Sleepless, a Poofless ff

An Aged Record

Listen to "Mr. Owl Ate My Metal Worm"- D.R.U.G.S (Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows)

Chapter 15, An Aged Record

Ringing filled the once silent room.

"Excuse me, your phone-"

Preston cut him off immediately, "Shut up." He muttered. His eyes were focused on the sheets. The doctor just sighed, leaving the room, which seemed to happen more and more. They honestly didn't know what to do with Preston, and were pushed to the breaking point. Nurses were praying that his family would fly over quickly, considering the rash anger, and lack of care was nearly impossible to deal with.

He had in fact, lashed out, various times in a result of his anger. The phone rang again, and he slammed his fist against the wall, groaning. He whipped the phone up, his actions tense, answering the call.

"Hello, I understand that, you know a Vikram Barn?"

Preston was tempted to say 'no' and hang up, although curiosity drew him in, and he responded with a hum.

" Well, He has been admitted into Faxton St. Luke's hospital at approximately 1:24 P.M. for attempted suicide."

He stopped, stunned almost, not quite sure how to respond. He seemed to think about his answer for ages, trying to comprehend what he was being told.

"Is he...okay?" He finally said, deadly serious. The man on the other end seemed to pause, and clear his throat awkwardly.

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't be quite sure yet." He responded, but Preston knew he was lying. He could just sense it. From the corner of his eye, he could see a doctor looking at him curiously, he felt like an animal, degraded. He returned the man's gaze by flipping him off, hanging up without a word.

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Grief. Was it a real feeling? Or more so a mixture of many? Rob felt pathetic, he had held something so important, a human life, in his hands. But he let it slip and fall. He didn't prioritize, didn't think at all. He tried to contain his own feelings, as he stood before the brunette woman, crying into her husband's chest. Guilt defined him at the moment, he was as fragile as an aged record, like he would fall into pieces with a meager amount of pressure.

The three were all, at that moment, defined in guilt. I didn't do this, I didn't do that. There was no turning back though, they tell us to learn from our mistakes, but what if we're gone before it's time to learn? What if our mistake prevents us from ever learning again?

Rob ruffled through the tattered pages, the corners stained, the ink smudged. Mistakes. The papers were all mistakes. He ravaged his brain, Make it a dream, please, just please make it a dream. He felt choked up, chills running down his spine.

Forcing his grip to loosen on the papers, he gingerly handed them over. He seemed to breathe again, feeling as if he had let them go. He let the mistakes go, and now it was his turn to learn. Hands gripping the sides of his pants, he looked up at the two. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts and managed to speak, "Mrs. Barn...I'm so sorry."

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Just ignore him, Mat thought. He looked down, trying to avoid the steely glare he was receiving from Mitch. He sat in the airport chair going back to Texas. At this point he was mourning everything. Vikk, Mitch, YouTube, all his other friends, and his life in general. It's not any other day that you get a phone call that your friend killed himself. Much less that it was probably partly your fault. He sat there, waiting for a cab, trying desperately to ignore the looks he was receiving.

He turned around, but Mitch wasn't sitting in the corner anymore.

"Ma..." Mat cut him off immediately, spinning around.

"Go away." He answered firmly.

"But Ma..."

"No."

Mat smiled so hard it hurt, seeing the cab arrive from the corner of his eye. He turned around and walked as fast as he could out of the airport, without another word.

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Alright, explanation time. I went camping, for about three days (which means no WiFi). Then I come back and I get hit in the back of the head with the motherload of all homework. It was horrible, to say the least. So I finish everything up, and I go on here to update, and guess what? Two chapters were somehow deleted. So thankfully I had backup, but I was typing back two chapter last night instead of writing new ones. But overall, the support is insane, and I'm gonna try and get back on track, but I'm writing an essay for a dance scholarship right now, so it's a lot of work.

Ugh. Productive-ness.

Bye!