Drowning

Thirty Eight;

I had so much to say to her. So much that I needed her to hear. So much that I needed her to do. I needed to tell her that everything was going to be alright, that I was going to be alright. I needed to tell her that I loved her so much that she was the only thing keeping me alive right now. And I needed her to go home, to rest. To sleep. I needed her to stop crying, stop panicking. But I couldn't tell her anything.

It was the most surreal sensation. I could feel my heartbeat, I could hear it, even. I could hear every word the doctors and nurses were saying. Every word Zahara was saying. I heard every tear she allowed to fall whilst she was by my side. But opening my eyes felt impossible. I'd done it not that long ago, but it was so brief that the only reason I know they were open for sure, is because I saw Zahara and I could never forget a sight like that; pale, distraught, but beautiful all the same.
It felt as though my eyelids were being closed by a force much greater than my own strength to open them. But every once in a while, I was given the energy to mutter a word or two. I'd stopped now, though. Because it was giving Zahara false hope that I'd be okay. That my eyes would open again. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I wasn't sure if they would open again. I wasn't sure if I'd survive.

Time kept passing by, but I didn't know how much. I didn't know how long I'd been here for. A few hours, maybe. It was hard to judge because I kept falling in and out of consciousness. I hated that feeling. So out of control of my own body; my own mind. I hated all of it.

I hadn't heard voices in a while. Perhaps I'd been sleeping, but either way, it was quiet in my room. It was so quiet that I began to feel suffocated by it. With my eyes unable to open, I couldn't tell if I was dead or alive at this point. Not a sound to be heard, other than that of my heart monitor. But maybe I'd still hear that in the afterlife. Maybe that godforsaken constant beeping would torment me for eternity.

But, shattering my fears of being dead, I heard the door open, followed by some familiar voices. Zahara, Lauren, and, unmistakably, Luke.

"Oh my god," I hear Luke say. "Fuck, man." he sighs loudly. I felt guilt consume me.

I wanted to sit up, open my eyes, and yell out, "I'm fine. Everybody stop worrying, I am fine!". But I couldn't, because I wasn't.

"H-he's, like-" Luke begins. "He's like, really bad. Like, really fucking bad," he says.
I could hear him begin to cry, which only made me feel more guilty. How could I have done this to him? How could I make my best friend cry like this? I was evil and I deserved all of this pain, this guilt.

"He's going to be okay, though," I hear Lauren tell Luke.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Luke cries.

"I-I couldn't," Zahara whimpers. I felt further guilt. She sounded so broken, and I wasn't there to comfort her. "I haven't really been thinking straight, funnily enough." she snaps.

"I know," he sighs. "Sorry," Luke mumbles.

"Would you like some time alone with him?" Lauren says. "He can hear what you're saying, for the most part." she says. For the most part, yeah. Before I lose consciousness again.

"O-okay. Yeah." Luke sniffles.

Lauren and Zahara must have left, because the door closed loud enough for me to hear it.

"Bro," Luke says. "You've really outdone yourself this time," he chuckles, sniffling a little after. "You're a fucking idiot, man. You know that? Scaring the shit outta me like this," he says.

Although I couldn't see him, I knew Luke well enough to know how he would look whilst saying these things to me. A sad smile, trying his best to be strong. His bright blue eyes would be glazed over by bloodshot-red. I wanted to tell him that, yeah, maybe I'd scared the shit out of him. But I didn't mean to. I hadn't meant to end up here. I could be stupid and get myself into bad situations, but this was never my ultimate goal. I never wanted to be this way.