Paper Cranes

No One

Elizabeth sat in her bed, sharpening the creases in the small piece of gold paper - the final page in the last book. She cleared her throat to avoid the throat shredding cough that awaited her. Her hair, now barely past her earlobes, remained neatly in place. Despite the pain in her stomach, chest, and throat, she was humming.

Happily.

A smile was painted on her moonlit face. Quickly, she wrote something on the wings of the bird before carefully slipping the IV and other tubes from her skin and stumbling out of bed. Her legs almost gave way from sudden weight and lack of use, but she quickly held on to the side table. Using the walls and various objects for support, she barely managed to make it to the bathroom before puking into the toilet for the seventh time that day. She spit and she sputtered and made her way - slowly - to the sink tp rinse every last bit of stomach acid from her tongue and wash her hands.

Elizabeth opened the cabinet with little difficulty, having to figure out which way it opened, and struggled to rip open one of the toothbrushes and some of the toothpaste. She stared at herself in the mirror as the foam built up in her mouth with each stroke of the brush against her teeth.

If this were an normal night, Elizabeth wouldn't have worried about toothbrushes. No, if this were a normal night, Elizabeth wouldn't have bothered with getting out of bed; she wouldn't have put her body through so much struggle and pain.

Elizabeth spit the foam out into the sink and rinsed out her mouth before wiping water from her mouth with the edge of her hospital gown and flushing the pristine porcelain toilet. She stumbled back to her bed - using inanimate objects for support - to retrieve the last paper crane she had made and - using the same technique she had before - stumbled to the door and pulled it open with an effort.

The hall was even colder than her own room, but more brightly lit. Elizabeth held on to the railings as she treked to the nearest elevator...thirty feet away. She was panting from dizziness as she pressed the up button.

Elizabeth was dizzy from the upward motion of the elevator. She would have sat on the floor if she had thought she'd be able to stand back up again. Instead, she leaned on the railing with one hand and cradled her churning stomach, still holding the origami bird, with the other. The elevator music, which was supposed to soothe, annoyed Elizabeth to no end and she was relieved when the number ten lit up above the door.

Elizabeth walked out of the elevator, almost falling over a patient in a wheelchair. She quickly grabbed the nearest railing, greatful for the support.

The ICU was usually one room with sevral patients in it, but there were some private rooms. Elizabeth made her way to those. She was acheing and panting by the time she reached the doorway of one of the private rooms.

Brendon's room.

Elizabeth had the urge to cough violently, but managed to surpress it. Instead, she stumbled into the room, pins and needles surging through her legs. They'd finally awoken.

"Brendon," she whispered, reaching him. She was now standing - leaning, really - over his bed. She laced her fingers into his limp one, just like she had before. "Just once more."

"If you can hear me - If you can hear my voice, Elizabeth's voice, Brendon - please, please, squeeze my hand."

Elizabeth smiled as his fingers curled over hers. Her other hand tightened on the paper crane, crushing it. "Make one more wish with me."

Elizabeth closed her blue eyes. Brendon's face burned itself into the back of her eyelids. His eyes were open, his mouth set into a childish grin. He was grinning at her

That's all I want...

Elizabeth opened her eyes. She hadn't realize what she was doing until she did it. Her lips, trembling, pressed against his.

Brendon

The sun burned holes into my eye lids. I rubbed my eyes, and realized that one hand was a bit heavier than it should have been. I blinked a few times, but before I could clear my vision, I was being smothered. There were tears and sobs and I knew exactly who thought it'd be a good idea to suffocate a confused, and apparently injured, person.

My mom.

I did't know where I was. I didn't know what time it was. I didn't even know what day it was. My head hurt, my chest ached, and I couldn't feel one of my legs. My mom squeezed tighter, and I yelped, which probably made me sound like a hurt dog. She eventually let go.

I was in the hospital, but didn't remember what happened.

Aunt Fay walked into the room wiping away tears. Her eyes were puffy, her face red, but she smiled when she saw me and rushed over to squish me in a deadly embrace.

“Oh, Brendon! Thank God.”

“Fay?”

“Mm?” she grunted, not even caring that I forgot to say “aunt”.

“Why are you crying?”

My aunt pulled away from me immediately, startled by the question. She wiped her eyes a bit, but they only brimmed with tears.

“Aunty?”

“Because, Brendon.” She seemed to mute after that.

“Sorry, could you say that again.”

Fay took a deep breath, as if it took all her might to spit out her next three words.

“Brendon, Elizabeth's dead.”