by Angela Mack
“What are you drawing this time, Georgie?” Sammy was sat in a high-backed armchair. It was light blue and made of a stiff, plastic-looking fabric. It looked uncomfortable as hell. She leaned over to peer at Georgie’s drawing. She looked tired. She was usually so neat and stylish, but her clothes were rumpled and loose.
“A dog. When Ryan and Josh wake up, I want us to get a dog. I love dogs.” Georgie carried on colouring, not looking up. Sammy smiled but it was more of a grimace, her lips squashing into a thin line as she closed her eyes.
“A dog loves you no matter what. I think they need that.” Tears sprung to my eyes as I saw the pain that flickered across both Izzy and Sammy’s faces. Neither of them responded to Georgie.
I took a step closer to Izzy. If I were awake she’d be able to rest her head back on my stomach. I’d be able to stroke her neck, rub her shoulders. Comfort her. I growled, furious that I was helpless. She’d think that I’d abandoned her. But I hadn’t! I was right here. As I clenched my fists, my periphery caught sight of the person lying in the bed. My heart plummeted through my chest. It was me. It was so obvious, yet my brain had not guessed it. For a second, I was frozen. Part of me wanted to run out of the room and never look back. Another part of me was desperate to get a closer look. Eventually, I took another step forward, closer to my body. It felt like the walls were starting to close in on me.
My face looked like a toddler had used it as their own personal painting project. They’d used their grimy hands to smudge shades of blue and green, and purple and yellow across my skin. The blotches of colour bled into each other, barely any of my natural skin showing. The purple grew darker and darker closer to my eyes, until it was almost black. My hair had grown long and messy, my fringe hanging down low over my eyes.
I took two more steps until I was standing next to my shoulders. My head started pounding and the edges of my vision blurred. The walls definitely seemed closer now. I winced, a sudden pain in my side. I lifted my t-shirt and saw a faint red line that wasn’t there before. My skin looked brighter, more solid. I skimmed my thumb across the mark and could feel the indentation. What the fuck?
I stumbled backwards, my head feeling clearer with the growing distance. I grasped the doorframe, clinging to it. I was breathing heavy, sweat dripping down my forehead. I swiped it away with the back of my hand, doing a double take when I noticed how strange my hand looked. I held it up, looking at the sweat glistening there. It looked almost translucent. I turned my hand, watching the room spin through it as I rotated my wrist. Beneath the slick of sweat and my skin, I could faintly see Izzy still holding my hand. I looked down and checked my side again; the red line was gone. My skin was back to being unspoiled. I trembled as I looked around for Ryan, but he was gone. He wasn't there anymore.
Chapter 3
Isabel
Dad and the doctors were gone by the time we got back to Josh’s room. I resumed my vigil by Josh’s side, glancing at the curtain as I sat down. Someone had pulled it across again.
Georgie settled at the end of Josh’s bed, as he did almost every day. Sometimes he’d read one of his books to Josh, or he’d talk to him about a new movie he’d seen, or he’d draw him pictures. His pictures were always of his dreams for the future; a big house with apple trees out front, or the three of them holding hands on a beach, or a dog. Georgie retained the blind optimism that only children seemed to possess. Every day, he’d start his sentences with ’when Josh and Ryan wake up’ and he’d carry on drawing, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. When he was finished with each one, he’d stick them to the walls. Mum would hand him the blu-tack and he’d drag a chair over to a wall, stretching as high as he could to hang it up. They were everywhere you looked. I goddamn hated every single one of them.
With every drawing Georgie completed, it was like my heart cracked a little bit more. I wanted to stay positive, to believe with every fibre of my being that Ryan and Josh were both going to wake up. But every drawing signified yet another day that neither of them had opened their eyes. Time was stuttering on. Tick tock, tick tock. The more time that passed, the more their odds were dropping. They might not be able to go to the beach. They might not be together ever again. The thought made me gag.
So, I would smile each time Georgie slapped his paper against the wall, but inside I was twisting and constricting. I wanted to rip them all down and shred them to pieces, screaming until my voice grew hoarse. I could imagine doing it so vividly; the paper crumpling beneath my fingers, my wails echoing down the hospital corridors. I had so much pain inside of me. I needed to let it out.
As Georgie finished colouring in the dog’s tail, for the first time, I didn’t feel anger towards his drawing. I felt shame and sadness. Today was the first time that Georgie’s hope had wavered. When he’d said at lunch that he didn’t want to be an only child, it was like he was finally admitting out loud that it was a serious possibility. Hearing him say that hurt even more than seeing his stupid drawings.
The squeak of pen against paper stopped and I looked up at Georgie. He was still as he looked down at his paper, at the drawing he had been carefully crafting for the past thirty minutes. Without warning, he scrunched the paper up and jumped off the bed. He twisted to face me, launching the paper ball across the room behind me. It hit the curtain, the fabric cocooning it as it slid down to the floor. Tears filled Georgie’s eyes and his little fists clenched by his side. He glared at the paper ball; eyebrows drawn in as his chest heaved. Mum had half-risen from her chair, unsure what to do. She reached out towards Georgie’s shoulders but then thought better of it. She looked at me, anguish in her eyes.
I stood up and retrieved the drawing, unfurling its edges. I laid it across my right thigh, smoothing out the creases with my palm. I tugged at each end of the paper, stretching it out to make it as flat as possible. Georgie didn’t try to stop me, but he didn’t look happy about it either. I took the drawing and rifled through the drawers at Josh’s bedside, searching for the blu-tack. I pulled some pieces off and then positioned the dog drawing on the wall opposite Josh at his eye level. It would be the first one he would see if he woke up. When he woke up. I pressed the corners of the page further into the blu-tack, making sure it was secure.
“What shall we call him?” I asked, smiling at Georgie. His frown deepened and I didn’t think he was going to answer me. Finally, his nose began to wrinkle as he gave my question some serious thought.
“Oreo,” he said.
“Oreo?”
“Yep, Oreo.” He walked to my side and we both looked at the drawing. Mum joined us, wrapping her arms around our shoulders, pulling us both into her sides.
“That’s a great name,” she whispered, giving my shoulder a squeeze. The sound of running boots snatched our attention and our heads swivelled to the doorway. A man and a woman in dark uniform flew past and I could hear shouts nearby. It sounded like Dad.
Mum scooped Georgie up, running out of the room to follow. I was hot on her heels and we rounded the corner to see the man and woman restraining Dad. The man had his back to us, his arms wrapped around Dad’s middle. He had ‘security’ in large letters across his back. The woman was in front of Dad, her hands pushing against his chest. The three of them were struggling outside another room, with a broad policeman standing guard in front of a closed door. The policeman leaned over the security woman, his hands seizing Dad’s shoulders.
“I know you’re upset Charlie, but I cannot let you in here.” The policeman spoke firmly, sounding familiar. I took a step closer and realised it was Superintendent White; he had been the one to question Georgie about what had happened on Boxing Day. Apparently, it was unusual for a Superintendent to get this involved in one particular case, but for some reason, he had taken a special interest.
“He doesn’t deserve to live! He’s a MONSTER!” Dad wrestled against the security officers and Superintendent White, trying to get inside the room.
“Charlie, I―”
“NO! He
’s killed him! He’s fucking killed him and now you’re protecting him!” Dad was like a wild animal, bucking and thrashing to be free. I started to shake a little, confused and frightened by Dad’s behaviour. I’d never seen him like this before.
Mum set Georgie down next to me and rushed over to them all. She squeezed in front of Dad and rested her hand on his cheek.
“Come on, darling. Let’s go get some fresh air.” She searched his eyes, desperate to understand what had caused his outburst. As soon as she touched him, I saw all the fight leave him, like a balloon that had burst under too much pressure. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Georgie and I watching. He rolled his head from his left shoulder to his right, trying to ease the tension. He shrugged his arms, shaking off the security guards before turning on his heels and striding off. Mum gave the Superintendent a meek smile before following.
“He’s in there, isn’t he?” Georgie tilted his head up at me, pointing to the closed door. I nodded.
“Yes. He is.”
Chapter 4
Joshua
Where the fuck was Ryan? I had searched the entire first floor but could not find him anywhere. I hitched a ride in the lift to the ground floor and began to aimlessly roam, not having a clue where to look for him. I felt the panic bubbling inside me. He was still around, right? He hadn’t...left?
I was about to have a full-blown meltdown until I spotted Charlie marching around the corner, distracting me. He pushed open a set of double doors beneath a sign that read ‘The Quad.’ He threw himself through the doors, Sammy running to catch up with him. I followed them and realised we were outside in a square-shaped garden. The hospital loomed all around us like a concrete jungle. It was bitterly cold outside, and I could see Charlie’s breath fogging in front of him. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking around at the trees, taking deep breaths. Most of the trees were bare, their leaves shed over winter. It was so quiet and calm, soothing.
Sammy threaded her arm through Charlie’s and pulled him down a narrow path. Gravel crunched underfoot as she led him to a bench underneath a small willow tree. They were silent for what felt like forever before Sammy turned to look at Charlie. She took his hands and rubbed them between hers, trying to keep him warm.
“Talk to me, babe,” she urged. Charlie sighed, his head hanging low.
“They―the doctors―don’t think he’ll wake up.” His voice cracked and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Sammy nodded, as if she’d expected him to say it.
“There’s too much damage. The swelling in his brain isn’t getting any better and they’re not seeing much brain activity.” I was horrified to see tears roll down Charlie’s face. I had never seen a man cry before. I was always told that ‘real men don’t cry’ or ‘man up,’ but Charlie didn't seem embarrassed. Sammy wasn’t shocked by it at all, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to see a grown man cry. She stopped rubbing his hands to squeeze them tight. He looked up at her and her eyes shone.
“We are going to get through this. And we’re going to do everything to help Izzy and Georgie get through it too.” Sammy’s face shifted into fierce determination. Charlie nodded.
“Did they say anything about Josh?” she asked. He laughed, but it was more like a huff, and he shrugged his shoulders.
“They’re happy with his progress; he’s healing well, and he has plenty of brain waves. They’re monitoring him as he’s still at risk of infection from his surgery, but he’s doing great.” Charlie’s expression didn’t match the words he had just spoken. He didn’t look pleased at all.
“But?” Sammy prompted. He sighed again.
“But he should have woken up by now. They don’t understand why he’s still in a coma.” The cogs in my brain were stiff and sluggish, turning frustratingly slow. I couldn’t quite grasp what they were saying. I was OK? But Ryan wasn’t? Icy terror trickled into my veins and I whirled away from them, sprinting back inside. I had to find Ryan.
I leapt back into the lift, trying not to wince as I breezed through the group of people inside, hovering in the middle of them. My legs bounced with impatience as the lift crept upwards. The doors opened with a swish and I launched out, looking left and right. I ran back towards my room, hoping he had circled back. I skidded in the doorway, my stomach plunging when I only saw Izzy and Georgie inside. I growled in frustration. Come on Ry, where the fuck are you?
I looked further down the corridor and spied someone staring at the vending machine again.
“RYAN!” I screamed. He looked over and wiggled his fingers hello. I barrelled towards him, grabbing his shoulders.
“Where the fuck have you been? You scared the shit out of me!” My heart slowed to a more normal rate. He was still here. Thank fuck.
“I went for a walk," he shrugged.
“Well, tell me next time, dickhead. I thought you’d...floated off, or whatever.” I waved my hand about in the air and he laughed at me.
“As long as you stay in the hospital, that shouldn’t happen.” I frowned at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I think if you try to leave the hospital, that’s when you, you know. Float off. It’s just a feeling I get every time I get too close to an exit. Like something’s pulling at me to leave.” He shrugged again.
“OK, well, make bloody sure you don’t go near one, then. I’m not losing you again.” I gave him a brief hug, relieved that he was OK. Bloody doctors didn’t have a damn clue. He was obviously fine.
“Why do you keep lurking around by this vending machine, anyway?” I turned to look at it and saw rows and rows of sweets and chocolate.
“I keep craving a Double Decker,” he grinned. Trust him to pick the biggest chocolate bar in there. I rolled my eyes at him.
“You’ll have one soon enough,” I smiled. His face dropped, eyes avoiding mine.
“Have you...seen me yet?” he asked.
“I’m er, looking right at you.” I scrunched my face up in confusion.
“No. I mean, have you seen the real me?” I shook my head, my jaw feeling stiff and slow as I moved it left to right and back again.
“You should. Go look. I’m in the same room as you.” Ryan turned back to the vending machine, dismissing me. A horrible feeling settled in the pit of my stomach and my tongue felt heavy in my mouth, my throat dry. I began to make my way back to the room, my feet dragging. I didn’t want to go in there, but I couldn’t seem to stop moving towards it either.
I saw Georgie and Izzy again. This time Izzy was sitting in the armchair and Georgie was on her lap. She held an iPad in her hand, both with their heads bent towards it, watching a movie with the volume down low. I took two more steps. I hadn’t noticed the green curtain before, but I knew now that Ryan was behind it. Another step. My nose was almost touching the fabric and I lifted my hand, pausing. I took a few deep breaths before trying to pull the curtain across. Of course, my hand slid right through it, as if I didn’t exist. I shook myself, puffing out a breath―I can do this.
I took one last, large step, lunging through the curtain. I flinched, still expecting to get tangled up in it, but obviously, that didn’t happen. There was no resistance. I stood at the foot of my brother’s bed, not daring to look. I was angled away from him, staring out the window instead.
The sky was crammed with dark grey clouds, not even a hint of sunlight visible. The feeling of dread grew, like the weather was trying to warn me what was ahead. Don’t be such a pussy, Josh. He’s your brother for fuck’s sake. I turned. My breathing stuttered. Fear and shock lodged in my throat. I clung to the end of the bed; my fingers curled around the plastic footboard. It was the only thing holding me up as my knees buckled.
Ryan’s bed was raised into a sitting position. Whichever chubby toddler had painted my face had just given up when it came to Ryan’s. They had wrangled a tin of dark purple paint above their head until they had eventually lost their grip. The paint tin had smashed down onto Ryan’s face. Over and o
ver. And over. His face was bloated, so swollen and uneven.
There was some kind of brace around his head and neck, like a black cage. The curved part across his forehead reminded me of the halo that Formula One cars had. It was supposed to protect the drivers from injury during serious crashes. But this didn’t look like it was protecting Ryan. There were four bolts stretching from the brace, drilled into Ryan’s skull. Into his fucking skull! How was that protecting him?
There were also four long rods coming down from the head part of the brace, one disappearing behind each of Ryan’s shoulders and two reaching down towards his chest. They were connected to a clear, solid plastic vest that he was wearing. The vest was lined with sheepskin, an illusion of comfort for the wearer. But there was no fucking way that this was in any way comfortable.
I tore my gaze from the sickening contraption, noticing that his right arm was in a sling and his left leg was in a cast. My hands began fidgeting and they brushed across a clipboard that was half-tucked into a holder at the edge of Ryan’s bed. I bent, peering to look at the handwriting scrawled there. Words started jumping out at me: mandible fracture, broken C2 vertebra, distal radius fracture, fibula fracture, elevated intracranial pressure…
I bolted from the room, no longer able to withstand the torture. I needed air. I kept running and running, my feet pounding against the floor, no longer squeamish about passing through people or objects. I needed to escape, to be free of this fucking awful place. Where was the fucking exit? I felt like I was trapped in a maze, blindly charging downstairs, around corners and across corridors. I skidded to a stop, spying a sign for the exit. I pivoted and followed the direction it was pointing in, looking out for another sign guiding me towards my freedom. I sped up, seeing glass doors at the end of a wide corridor. It was so bright outside, everything appearing almost white. I could make out glowing silhouettes―trees, birds, a car passing by. I sprinted towards the doors, watching as they slid apart to allow people entry. I smiled, already tasting the fresh air even though the doors had closed again.