“They told you?”
I nodded. My eyes brimmed with tears, but I wouldn’t let them fall. It was my fault. I didn’t deserve to cry or to be upset. I didn’t deserve anything.
I don’t deserve to be alive.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. I’m sure if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve hugged me. Even the hand was pushing it.
A beeping sound came from the huge monitor to the side of me; I watched as the lines went crazy. Luke’s eyes widened as if he broke me. Two nurses came running in and started checking me. One checked my heart while the other tried to calm me.
How am I supposed to be calm when two strangers are touching me and telling me to relax?
“He will come home,” Luke said. He didn’t even realize he was lying.
I did some breathing to make the loud alarm go away; once it did, the nurses left. Luke and I were alone.
We sat there in silence. He didn’t even know why I was upset. About the images that haunted me throughout the day. How I saw him, lying there, lifeless. How his blood spilled because of me.
“Kyle!” a new voice intruded. I turned and saw Noelle with Mom. Mom walked inside my room, but Noelle stood there, her black hair in a ponytail. Her emerald-green eyes stared into my blue ones. She smiled at me before taking in my injuries. All my cuts, bruises, and bandages.
I look awful.
“Hey, Noelle!” Luke waved, sat up, and offered her the chair. He gave me a look that I couldn’t read. I stared at him in confusion, and he just sighed before leaving. Mom followed him out the door, talking about food in the cafeteria.
Looking at Noelle made me angry and confused and most of all, guilty. I took her boyfriend away from her. She would hate me if she knew. She wouldn’t be here if she knew the truth.
“Kyle, look at me, please,” she begged. My heart ached as she pleaded. If Nick knew what I was thinking, he would never trust me again. He would hate me.
I looked toward her, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. It would torture me. Thoughts ran through my mind, and thinking clearly wasn’t an option. A pounding headache was making me nauseous.
I felt her hand on mine. The warmth of her fingertips traced the back of my palm. I stopped, and so did everything else that was going on with my body. And I looked at her.
She was looking at me.
Everything was okay.
5
Day Five
It had been three days since Nick was reported missing and three days I had been stuck in the hospital. Every moment I spent alone, I kept thinking of Nick. The guilt made me sick to my stomach, which caused me to eject my dinner at night. Another reason why the doctors wouldn’t let me leave.
Noelle and Luke had been visiting me since I got to the hospital. They came every day; Luke even brought me flowers. Noelle brought me herself, and that was better than anything.
“When can I go home?” I pleaded when Dr. Jones walked through the door. He chuckled at my impatience before grabbing my clipboard. “You already know what’s wrong with me, now can I go home or not?”
His eyes moved to mine before going back to the clipboard. Raged filled up in my body, and I had to bite down on my tongue to not scream at this guy. Whenever Mom wasn’t there, he didn’t do his job. Never answered any questions, barely stopped by, and mostly sent an intern to check on me.
“Nick Walter, a sixteen-year-old boy, is still missing,” I heard from the TV. I turned my head to see the same news anchor from a few nights ago. “He was reported last seen in a navy-blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants. His girlfriend, Noelle Seong-Hun, was being questioned a few nights ago.” The news anchor was gone, and soon enough Noelle appeared on the screen. The sun was shining in her face, and she was squinting. Her hair was down and wavy as if she just got up. I sat up in my bed and turned up the volume.
Dr. Jones faced the television as well. He held his pencil up to Noelle. “Isn’t that the same girl who comes in here all the— ”
“Shhh!” I hushed him. He widened his eyes at me before turning away. I didn’t care what he did, though. I was only focused on Noelle.
“Noelle,” the interviewer started, “why were you being questioned?”
Noelle’s ears were bright red, and she kept looking at the camera. I watched as her fragile, tiny body shook. “They wanted more information; I was the last one with him.”
She wasn’t.
I was.
“Did they think you were responsible for him going missing?”
Wow, that was harsh.
“Um, no.” She shook her head. Her hair bouncing as she moved. “I don’t think so. I think they thought I knew something about it, but I didn’t. Nick didn’t tell me anything.”
She crossed her arms and slid her hands on her biceps. She tried warming herself up by rubbing. She was only wearing a vest and a long-sleeve T-shirt—no wonder she was so cold.
“Is this something Nick would do? Just leave? Was there anything that would’ve caused this absence?”
What!?
“What!?” Noelle gasped, dropping her arms. “Of course not! Nick would never leave like this! He would’ve told someone! And no, nothing happened to make him want to leave!”
Dr. Jones was now staring at the TV with me, more invested in the news than my health. Nurses walking past my door kept peeking in. I figured my mother scared them half to death about me because each time they passed my door without looking, they came running back.
“Do you know who Nick would’ve told? Or someone who knows Nick well, better than you even?” The voice echoed in my ear.
Don’t tell them.
Noelle, please! Do not say my name!
She nodded her head. “Yeah, his best friend, Kyle Davis. They have known each other since they were kids. Never been separated until now.”
Crap.
Dr. Jones appeared at the foot of my bed, still looking at the TV. “Wow, kid, you’re famous!” He chuckled at his joke. I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re right, bad timing. Sorry, kid.”
I rolled my eyes and shut off the TV. I couldn’t believe that now my name was out there. Most kids knew about Nick and how close we were, but now the whole state was aware. The black TV screen seemed to taunt me. The wind rushed through the windows, picking up the papers from the counter. The bottom of the papers flew up but stayed to the counter because of the clipboard. I hadn’t noticed him place it down.
“Okay, now that I have your attention”—Dr. Jones deadpanned, his eyes shifting between my face and the door—“let’s talk about going home.”
“I’m going home?” I pled with him. He had given hope like this before, making me want to drive my fist across his face when he took it away.
Like how you took Nick’s life away?
I tried to push the thoughts away, but they came rushing toward me. Like a stampede, in a hurdle, and all at once. I started wincing at the pain, and it didn’t take long for Dr. Jones to notice. He moved closer and held a flashlight against my pupils. The light was blazing, and my eyes became teary. He put the flashlight away and watched me. Just stood there and watched me.
Like I watched Nick die.
“Hey, man, get away from me!” I screamed at Nick. His eyes followed me, red with anger. I could see the steam coming from his ears, and I knew I was in trouble.
“No! Why would you say that to her?” He barked at me, pushing my chest. I felt his fist and my temper run out of patience. I looked at his hand before looking him in the eyes. His were focused on mine, and I knew we were in a fight.
I must’ve fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes next, Mom and Dad were next to me. Dr. Jones was nowhere to be seen. There was a small breeze coming through the slightly opened window. The sun beamed through the shutters and cast a light onto the floor. I noticed a plant in my room, a small tree. A small tree sitting on a table.
“Get that out of here,” I grumbled. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It beckoned for me to get mad.
“Get that stupid tree out of here,” I ordered, louder than before. I heard Dad crinkle his paper, setting it down. His eyes were on me; Mom’s were on his. My eyes were on that branchy devil.
“Sweetie, I brought it to add to your room,” she coaxed. “To make it less like a hospital.”
“Well, I am in a hospital,” I hissed through my teeth. “And I don’t want that tree here.”
I felt my brain shut down; every other emotion was erased from my mind. I could only feel anger and only see red. Nothing else. That stupid tree seemed like it was the root of all my problems, but it wasn’t. I didn’t care, though; I wanted it gone.
“Honey, I—”
“Get it out!” I grabbed the nearest thing to me—a lamp—and chucked it across the room. The wires attached to me made it difficult to throw it, but I made it work. Anger burned through my body, and I had third-degree burns from it. I watched as the lamp flew across the room, and Mom gasped as it slammed against the pot the tree was sitting in. It fell over, breaking into a million pieces.
Dad stood up, staring at the broken tree pot. His newspaper was now folded in his chair, and his arms were crossed. A couple of silent moments later, his glare burned through the back of my head, and I was only focused on one thing.
Look at that tree; it’s dead now.
Just like Nick.
“Oh god.” Mom sniffled, walking away from me. Dad held a hand to her, but she waved him away. “I can’t.” I heard her footsteps race out of the room and down the hall.
She’s realized you’re a monster.
And she doesn’t even know all the things you’ve killed.
~
“Okay, we will be back in the morning to get you.” Mom kissed my forehead. Dad came back a few hours later, in between shifts. The alarming sound made him fall and drop all his papers. He spent the rest of the time trying to organize them and put them back in his briefcase.
Noelle left a little bit before that. We turned on the news only to be reminded that he was missing. She excused herself to go to the bathroom after that and came back all teary-eyed. She stayed, though and held my hand. Her soft, gentle palm on my scraped one.
After she left, Luke came back. I could tell he wanted to ask what happened between us, but he stayed quiet. Then he went on a tangent about the protest his mom was planning next. Something about the ocean or an ocean animal. I’m not sure; I wasn’t listening.
Luke, Mom, and Dad all left my room when visiting hours were over. Mom, however, didn’t leave. She was going to stay the night and work. She just wanted me to have a little bit of alone time.
“I’ll be right upstairs. Need anything, tell them to come and get me. Also, try to get some sleep; the alarms won’t go off until 10:00 a.m.” She lectured me before leaving the room.
I was alone in the hospital room with my thoughts. The last place I wanted to be.
You deserve this.
My room was poorly lit with a lamp on a nightstand a couple of inches away from my bed. The rails were up and blocking my sides. I finally had a moment to realize how uncomfortable I was. The IV in my arm started to sting; the heart monitor was getting annoying, beeping every second. There was no way I could sleep.
I lay there for hours. I watched the clock turn every minute until it was 2:54 a.m. I groaned, rolling over. I was sick of watching the clock, so I faced the windows. The stars glistened in the dark sky. There was a ridiculously small sliver of the crescent moon. I failed astronomy, though, so I’m not sure. It was beautiful, though. Almost distracted me from the bedsprings pricking at my back. I looked back at the clock, and the time was now 3:00 a.m.
I’m not getting any sleep tonight, am I?
Suddenly, this loud, obnoxious alarm started blasting through my room and out the halls. I covered my ears at the piercing noise. After a few minutes, it stopped. At first, I figured it was another shift change.
But they weren’t supposed to have one.
Something was wrong; I felt it in my bones. Every inch of me was screaming danger. I turned to my side to press the nurse button. It clicked, but no one came. The button didn’t even light up. I waited for a few minutes, and no one came. I pushed on the sidebar that was keeping me blocked in. I grabbed ahold of the machine attached to me with an IV but tore off everything else. The heart monitor machine slowly stopped.
I hate needles, so I knew pulling it out would be hard for me to watch. I held the IV in my hand and closed my eyes. I yanked it out as quickly as I could, stinging me along the way. I winced quietly, biting on my lower lip.
“Ouch,” I muttered. Blood dripped down my hand like a stream. I stood up from my bed and made my way to the door. The hallways were empty, not a single person in sight. The only movement was a flashing light down the hall. I heard faint screams from a couple of doors down.
Walking down the hallway of what seemed like an abandoned hospital was one of the scariest times of my life. My legs shook the whole way, and I lost my balance about halfway through. The light flickering above me created a headache. I pushed myself to stand up and continued walking. The screams were getting louder. It was a boy. A teenager.
It sounds like he’s really in pain.
I came across a door where the angered yells were from. I turned the knob to the door, but it wouldn’t move. It was locked. The screams continued from inside, and I tried to calm them down.
“It’s okay!” I tried to convince the boy. “It’s locked, but I’ll try to get in.”
The boy started begging for his life. Pleading with me as if I was God. As if I was the one taking his life away from him. He started banging on the door as if it was the door of life. I noticed there was a small glass window above my head in the door. I looked around and luckily spotted a chair. I grabbed it before placing it against the door as the boy suffered. The glass window was inlaid to the door, and I realized I only had one option.
Punch the damn thing.
I started swinging. My fists were bruised from the first punch, but I kept going. I saw a small crack and found its weak spot. My fists begged me to stop, but my head told me to keep going.
If you can kill a boy, you can save one.
I didn’t stop punching until the glass shattered. The glass cut my hands, but I didn’t feel it. I peeled away the rest of the glass and looked in the room. There was silence. The boy stopped screaming. It was dark, so I couldn’t see anything.
Moments passed, and there was nothing. I started banging on the door to get his attention. “Are you okay!? Dude!”
I heard shuffling on the other side. I stuck my head through the broken window. A hand suddenly grabbed my throat. Another one closed around my neck and started squeezing. All the air escaped from my body. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. I tried to swallow, but it felt like a boulder trying to go through a straw. It numbed my throat. He started to lift me. Pulling me inside the room while I gasped for air.
“Now you know how it feels to be murdered.”
My face, bright red, started turning purple. I could feel the veins trying to pop out of my body. The voice sounded familiar; the haunting-ness of it wasn’t. A face appeared from the darkness. Nick was bloody, cut up, and drained of color. I stared at him in shock.
I did that.
I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Nick’s dead, lifeless eyes stared into mine. Watching me as I lost oxygen. I heard footsteps bolting down the hall. Nick let go, and I fell to the ground. My back hit the hard, cold, laminated floor. I heard a crack, and I screamed out in pain. I crawled away from the door, leaving traces of blood around me. I wasn’t even sure where I was bleeding.
People came rushing down the hallway and kneeled around me. They started doing doctor things, checking my throat, oxygen, broken bones
, and all sorts of things. I saw Mom running down the hallway, and I felt safe. She engulfed me in a hug, and I wrapped my arms around her waist and started sobbing. She held me tighter. I felt my breath leave my body, and I struggled to get it back. I was sure my lungs were broken forever.
No, no, no, no!
I pushed her away. Surprised, Mom held my head back and saw my throat. I heard her gasp before she glared at everyone.
“Who choked my baby!?” she demanded. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. No words formed, even though I knew what I wanted to say.
Nick.
It was Nick.
The doctors stared at me, confused and concerned. Mom started screaming again, demanding answers this time. I held up my shaking hand and pointed to the door. A doctor walked in there and came out a few moments later.
“No one is in there,” he announced. All eyes were back on the trembling, crying, bloody teenage boy sitting on the floor in his mom’s arms.
Oh wait, that’s me.
6
Day Eight
Eight days since Nick died. Three days since I saw him last. Three days since he held my life in his hands and wanted to crush it. Two days since I was prescribed anxiety medication. Two days since I took the medication. They wouldn’t let me leave the hospital until I was fully examined and diagnosed. Mom agreed with them and made me stay more days.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I informed her three days ago. “They examined me and said it was just anxiety.” She stood in my room on the psych floor. They made me stay there while checking the scene and room where I was attacked. They claimed it was a panic attack, and I only thought someone was choking me. They diagnosed me with panic disorder. Told me that I need to take medicine to stop the attacks. I didn’t believe them; I knew someone hurt me. And I knew exactly who it was. But Dad told me to just agree with them to get out of the ward. Mom wouldn’t believe it either though; she knew that something must’ve happened to me. She took me to another doctor in the building to get a second opinion.
Believing Lies Page 5