Jumper

Devon sits inbetween me and Sierra, holding our hands and closes his eyes. The seconds tick by slowly, chanting the fact that life eventually ends. It's absolutely inevitable and there is nothing we can do about it. We are all ticking time bombs, and when the timer runs out, we detonate, leaving a trail of destruction, sorrow, and tears in our wake.

Sierra hasn't been able to stop crying. I don't blame her. I have no idea what I would do if Devon was in Ryan's predicament. I glance at him and I feel all the love that I have ever felt for him over the years accumulate into one powerful wave. Tears trickle down my face as I lean my head against his shoulder. I squeezed his hand tightly as I closed my eyes. The door opened harshly, the handle knocking against the wall.

Sierra shrieked slightly, sitting up abruptly. A man wearing a white coat and a blue stethascope hanging sround his neck stood at the threshold. "Ryan Harding's friends?" he called.

We stood up nervously. Devon and I glanced at each other but Sierra's eyes were riveted to the doctor's.

"What's the news?" Devon asked, daring to be the one to broke the silence.

A slow smile crawls over the doctor's face. "Your friend is just fine. He can have vistiors now."

We followed him down the cold hallway, Sierra right on the poor man's heels. After too many turns and hallways to keep up with, he opened up a handleto a room, holding the door open for us. "He's just in there." Sierra flew into the room, landing at the side of his bed in a disgraceful slump. Devon and I cautiously walked in.

Ryan was smiling, granted it was very weakly, but he was smiling. Other than that, he didn't look so good. One of his legs was in a stark white cast that dangled from the ceiling, he was wearing a neckbrace and bandages covered his entire body.

Devon sat in the only guest chair to the left of Ryan's bed, pulling me onto his lap. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Ryan peeled his eyes away from Sierra who had been showering his hand, his arm, his face, anything she could reach with kisses. "Kind of broken to be honest. They said it won't be too bad though. That I will be able to walk again in four months or so."

"Four months?!" Sierra squealed.

He gazed down at her again, "I'm lucky. They said landing the way that I did could've killed me. I almost snapped my neck. I'm just grateful that I'm not paralyzed."

Sierra's tears came back full force. She tried to choke something out but all we heard were incoherent sobs. Ryan frowned and rubbed slow, smoothing circles into her back and she eventually calmed down.

"I guess they don't call it Dead Man's Bluff for nothing," Devon said trying to lighten up the mood. It only seemed to make us more upset. Ryan winced in pain, trying to move his suspended leg into a more comfortable postition.

I looked around the room, sensing how incredibly impersonal the whole room was. There was absolutely nothing that belonged to anybody. The walls were cynically white, cold and harsh. I wonder how many deaths these walls have witnessed, how many times they've seen people weep at their loved one's side. Maybe that's why this room was so impersonal, so cold, so unfeeling. If walls could talk, I'm sure no one would want to hear what these four had to say. Everything about this place was drenched in sorrow.

Devon must've felt my foul mood because his arms tightened around my waist. "When will your parents come to visit?" I ask.

"Well, they're still in Cancun, but they're getting on the next flight they said." We all shared a doubtful glance. Ryan's parents weren't exactly the type to leave a trip to Cancun just to see their son. They were barely involved in Ryan's life. In fact, the only paternal figure he had in his life was his nanny Debra, but he let her go a few years ago while he was searching for his independence. "Guys, they'll come. I am their only son after all."

"I'm sure they will," Sierra pronounced, shooting daggers in our direction.

The doctor arrived then, declaring the end to our visit. "I'll visit you every day," Sierra promised.

"We'll come as often as we can," Devon vowed.

"Don't stay away for too long. It gets kind of depressing in here all by myself."

"We won't," I said with a smile. Personally though, I was glad to be out of that room. I absolutely hate hospitals. How cold and uncaring they are, how impersonal. Too white, too formal, no personality. To be honest, I was glad to be rid of the too white walls.