I had a dream of you and me the perfect ecstasy
There's nothing left to say
The world flashed before Max’s eyes as he felt soft hands press onto his chest, people running around, phones being dialed, voices shouting. Where was he? Did he get lost? What about Ron…
“Mom, help me get him up!” a small voice shouted, cracking slightly.
Ronnie was the one who did this to him. He remembered now. God damn, clever bastard he is!
“Bryan, sweetie, the paramedics are coming to get him! Leave him on the ground and go find some dish rags to wipe up the blood!” a voice ordered.
Bryan, who the fuck is Bryan? Where the heck was Max? Some kind of stranger’s house?
“Here, I got the dish rags! Now where do I put them?” the same small voice asked.
“It’s going to be okay Max. You’re going to be fine.” The voice soothed Max.
Okay, seriously, how did this kid know his name?
“Bryan, the paramedics are here now, they’ll take care of him.”
Max felt multiple sets of footsteps surround him as they started spewing information about him through their mouths. “What do we have here?” one asked, as he felt a shadow cast over half of his face.
“Looks like a 17 year old male named Maxwell Green. He seems to be bleeding in multiple places. We’ll have to take him in to the ER. Son, what’s your name? Are you the one that called us to come here?” another one asked.
“My name’s Bryan. Maxwell is a friend of mine. He was beaten my his boy-best friend, Ronald.” The same voice from before, that had helped tend to his wounds, had said.
Max felt people picking him up as he groaned inwardly to himself. He could hear ambulance sirens wail as he overheard a conversation a paramedic was having with what seemed to sound like a walkie-talkie.
“Yeah, the best friend’s name is Ronald. I want you to call Fallenhawk and tell him to arrest that abusive boy!” one paramedic shouted to the walkie-talkie.
They were going to arrest Ronnie?
Max felt his body go up and be set down on something soft. A bed maybe? He felt wires being hooked up to him and repetitive beeping noises off to the side of the place he was currently lying in.
“Okay, check his blood pressure!” a voice ordered.
“It’s pretty high!” a voice yelled.
“Somebody get me a pulse!” the same voice ordered.
“Check his heart rate!”
“It’s high, boss. There’s nothing we can do.”
“He’s going down!” a voice cried, though gritted teeth.
At that very moment, Max felt his body fail as his eyelids became heavy, even though they were already shut.
“He’s gone….” The exact same voice whispered.
[Monte’s POV]
“Hurry mom, drive!” Monte screamed as his mom’s foot slammed onto the gas pedal, Mike, Mary, his dad and him all in the car with her.
“The car won’t go any faster!” His mom said.
“Just try!” He pleaded through tears.
“I’m trying my best!” She assured him.
“Try harder!” He pleaded again, desperately wanting to get to the hospital.
She slammed her foot on the brake pedal as they arrived at the hospital 30 minutes later. He was the first to run into the white wall filled building, flying past nurses, doctors and patients on rest beds. Monte thrusted himself against the check-in desk, panting from exhaustion and tears.
“What room is Maxwell Scott Green in?” He asked in one breath.
“Room 340.” The nurse replied.
He was running down the hall as soon as the room number was announced. “It’s on the second level!” she called after him.
Monte raced to the elevator as he slammed into the opposite wall on the inside. Once he finally regained consciousness, he pressed the level 2 button on the pallet.
“Come on, come on!” he muttered impatiently.
As soon as the elevator made a ding! noise, he, once again, raced out to find room 340. Upon reaching the room, he thought of what he was going to say to Max.
Hey how do you feel?
Nope.
Are you alright? Did Ronnie hurt you too badly?
Nada.
How does it feel when you’ve been beaten by your now ex boyfriend who could’ve killed you? Are you handling it well?
Obviously not.
Room 340. This was it.
Monte opened the door to see a passed out Max on the white hospital bed.
"M-Max?" he asked in a whisper.
“Mom, help me get him up!” a small voice shouted, cracking slightly.
Ronnie was the one who did this to him. He remembered now. God damn, clever bastard he is!
“Bryan, sweetie, the paramedics are coming to get him! Leave him on the ground and go find some dish rags to wipe up the blood!” a voice ordered.
Bryan, who the fuck is Bryan? Where the heck was Max? Some kind of stranger’s house?
“Here, I got the dish rags! Now where do I put them?” the same small voice asked.
“It’s going to be okay Max. You’re going to be fine.” The voice soothed Max.
Okay, seriously, how did this kid know his name?
“Bryan, the paramedics are here now, they’ll take care of him.”
Max felt multiple sets of footsteps surround him as they started spewing information about him through their mouths. “What do we have here?” one asked, as he felt a shadow cast over half of his face.
“Looks like a 17 year old male named Maxwell Green. He seems to be bleeding in multiple places. We’ll have to take him in to the ER. Son, what’s your name? Are you the one that called us to come here?” another one asked.
“My name’s Bryan. Maxwell is a friend of mine. He was beaten my his boy-best friend, Ronald.” The same voice from before, that had helped tend to his wounds, had said.
Max felt people picking him up as he groaned inwardly to himself. He could hear ambulance sirens wail as he overheard a conversation a paramedic was having with what seemed to sound like a walkie-talkie.
“Yeah, the best friend’s name is Ronald. I want you to call Fallenhawk and tell him to arrest that abusive boy!” one paramedic shouted to the walkie-talkie.
They were going to arrest Ronnie?
Max felt his body go up and be set down on something soft. A bed maybe? He felt wires being hooked up to him and repetitive beeping noises off to the side of the place he was currently lying in.
“Okay, check his blood pressure!” a voice ordered.
“It’s pretty high!” a voice yelled.
“Somebody get me a pulse!” the same voice ordered.
“Check his heart rate!”
“It’s high, boss. There’s nothing we can do.”
“He’s going down!” a voice cried, though gritted teeth.
At that very moment, Max felt his body fail as his eyelids became heavy, even though they were already shut.
“He’s gone….” The exact same voice whispered.
[Monte’s POV]
“Hurry mom, drive!” Monte screamed as his mom’s foot slammed onto the gas pedal, Mike, Mary, his dad and him all in the car with her.
“The car won’t go any faster!” His mom said.
“Just try!” He pleaded through tears.
“I’m trying my best!” She assured him.
“Try harder!” He pleaded again, desperately wanting to get to the hospital.
She slammed her foot on the brake pedal as they arrived at the hospital 30 minutes later. He was the first to run into the white wall filled building, flying past nurses, doctors and patients on rest beds. Monte thrusted himself against the check-in desk, panting from exhaustion and tears.
“What room is Maxwell Scott Green in?” He asked in one breath.
“Room 340.” The nurse replied.
He was running down the hall as soon as the room number was announced. “It’s on the second level!” she called after him.
Monte raced to the elevator as he slammed into the opposite wall on the inside. Once he finally regained consciousness, he pressed the level 2 button on the pallet.
“Come on, come on!” he muttered impatiently.
As soon as the elevator made a ding! noise, he, once again, raced out to find room 340. Upon reaching the room, he thought of what he was going to say to Max.
Hey how do you feel?
Nope.
Are you alright? Did Ronnie hurt you too badly?
Nada.
How does it feel when you’ve been beaten by your now ex boyfriend who could’ve killed you? Are you handling it well?
Obviously not.
Room 340. This was it.
Monte opened the door to see a passed out Max on the white hospital bed.
"M-Max?" he asked in a whisper.