Suffering Alone In Silence

I just got out of the shower, my skin is covered in tiny little water droplets and I can't find a towel. It's getting cold, standing here in the bathroom. I pick up my phone and decide to text Mikey and tell him to bring me a towel. I hear a knock on the door a minute after I send the text. I open the door and poke my head around, Mikey passes me a towel and I close the door, put it on and open it again. Mikey's left, so I find my pajamas on the floor and pull them on, before heading to bed for an early night.

At around 1:30, an annoying noise fills my ears. I open my eyes and look around, the light on the pager on my desk is flashing.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

I pull on a coat and grab my mobile and the notebook, before running up the stairs. Just as I'm about to leave, I decide to leave a note for mum, in case I don't get back till morning. I scribble a message down and tape it to the fridge.

I drive as fast as I can to the hospital without crashing and pull into the carpark at about two. The white lights beam down on me as I run to Frank's ward. I push open the door to his room, and come face to face with Dr Masters.

He gives me a stern look before explaining, “Frank woke up around three quarters of an hour ago, screaming and crying. When we got him to calm down a bit, all he said was Gerard, then collapsed. We're running a few scans, but he'll be back in here in around ten minutes. If you'd like, we can get you some scrubs and perhaps a coffee?”

“Okay... so he'll be alright? And yes, to both, thank you.”

“Yes, almost certainly,” the doctor said, before checking the clipboard in his hand. “If you go to the desk at the front of the ward, Trudy will show you to the change rooms and get you some scrubs. After, she can also get you some coffee.”

I thanked him before heading to the front desk. Trudy got me some scrubs and made coffee while I changed, once I had my coffee, I thanked her and went back to Frank's room.

Inside, Frank was lying on the small bed, his head leaning towards one side on his tiny neck. His skin looked so pale under the blinding lights, almost as light as snow. He was so fragile, he looked like a china doll, that could break with the slightest touch.

I sat on the hard plastic chair that every hospital room has. I pulled it up close to his bed and held his little, bony hand in mine.

When he woke up, he tightened his grip on my hand, his breathing was rapid and the heart monitor next to me was going wild. A nurse came in with a needle, and pressed it into his upper arm. She explained to me that it was a relaxant, and would calm him down.

“Gerard!” Frank cried, and threw himself into my arms. I hugged him tightly and tried to sit him back on the bed.

Finally, I managed to pry his arms off me and force him into the bed. He smiled sadly at me, before looking down into him lap.

“Frank, what happened?”