Losing Luke

I don't know when the severity of our situation hit me. It could have been when the masked man pointed a gun at our heads. Maybe it was the reverberating shots fired into the darkness of night. Or the sight of Luke's blood soaking my hands. Possibly when I woke up in a hospital bed with no feeling in my legs. I don't know when it hit me, but when it did, the emptiness that swallowed me up could have put a black hole to shame. I was nothing, but an empty shell, lying on a pure white bed with a pure black heart. My brain a broken record, replaying the events that changed and ruined my life forever. My eyes no longer the window to my soul, but a doorway to the darkness that rested there. Without Luke... I had nothing.
He was everything I relied on, everything I loved and cherished. We grew up together in one of the many orphanages in New York. Best friends from the start and brothers over time. Even when he was adopted and I feared I would never see him again, he made it a point to write and see me when he had the time. I had never been adopted, I lived at the orphanage until I was eighteen and moved out on my own. It was a miracle when Luke found me, on the street, a cardboard sign with the words Work 4 Food scribbled across it in solid black letters. He brought me in under his wing, giving me his couch, helping me get a job, getting me back on my feet. From then on, we were never apart.
That is, until that night.
Luke elbowed me lightly in the ribs, jerking his chin further down the bar. I glanced that way, noticing a smiling blond with a certain twinkle in her eyes.
“Hey man, I think that chick is checking you out,” Luke laughed teasingly.
I looked away, giving him a bored look. “Yeah. I think she's looking at you, skirt chaser.”
He shook his head in defiance. “Nah man, she's totally giving you the look.”
I rolled my eyes at his antics. “She's pretty, Luke, but -”
“Yeah, yeah,” he cut me off in a light, chastising tone. “You don't do anything that doesn't come with dinner, flowers, and commitment.”
I chuckled. “Is that so wrong?”
His shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug. “No, but it ain't any fun either.” And then he winked, sauntering over to the blond who eagerly greeted him, uncrossing her tanned legs to invite him in. I just shook my head, throwing back the last bit of scotch in my glass.
“Mr. Neil?”
I blinked when my name was called, following the blur of blue walk around my bed to check the machinery next to me. A woman with pixie like brown hair and bright blue eyes smiled down at me, picking up my hand to feel my pulse.
“How are you feeling today, Mr. Neil?” She asked me, her voice light and pleasant. It reminded me of a harp, wise and astoundingly calm.
However, despite the pleasantness of her voice, I still found her question stupid. Today was no different than any other day, she ought to know that by now. I lifted my shoulders into a small shrug, composing my face into a bored mask to hide the pain of memories.
Her waxed brows furrowed slightly, her plump pink lips upturned into a frown. One of her hands rested comfortingly on my shoulder. She gave it a squeeze and then picked up her chart again, recording some more data. Probably noting my unresponsiveness.
Then she threw back the white blanket from my lap, taking my legs and swinging them to the side of the bed. I lifted myself up with my arms, her hands cupping my biceps to help guide me into the wheelchair Luke's family had donated me.
For Your Bravery was engraved onto a small plaque on the back of the seat. I found the chair a symbol of mockery, but what was I supposed to do? Return the chair and be ungrateful?
“Dr. Hughs has been telling me about your progress. She says you're improving,” the nurse spoke softly, as if speaking to a fragile child. With a small heave, she pushed the chair into motion, wheeling me out into the long, plain white halls. She continued to talk to me through the short journey to Dr. Hughs arena as I had taken to calling it. It was really just a physical therapy gym, but I swear Dr. Hughs thrived off the pain of the injured.
“Well, here we are,” the nurse chirped, patted my shoulder, and then left me to face Hughs's wrath.
After an hour of physical therapy with Hughs, where I practiced the usage of my upper body strength, the same nurse wheeled me back to the room I was soon to be checked out of. It was weird how the too white walls and the clicking noises of the machines became comforting to me. I guess when that's all you have left to call yours, your heart clings to the small things.
“How did it go, Mr. Neil?”
I looked up at my nurse lazily, wondering why she tried so hard to communicate with me. If she hasn't gotten the message yet, she never will. I simply shrugged in response, leaning my head on my thumb and forefinger. A dull throb began to pound on the surface of my skull, my eyes going in and out of focus, indicating another migraine.
“Mr. Neil? Are you alright?” My nurse knelt in front of me, taking both of my wrists in her small hands and peering up into my scrunched face. Her appearance came in and out of my vision, the throbbing in my head increasing to an unbearable pain. My nurse frowned, walked over to the pile of medication bottles next to my bed, dropped a few into her hand and came back. Forcing my mouth open, she threw the pills and a swig of water down my throat. She wheeled my chair closer to my bed and helped me into it, adjusting the covers up to my chin. Her hand swept across my forehead, pushing my hair back from my sweating face. A small smile danced across her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. “You'll be alright,” she murmured. “It'll pass soon.” That's when the darkness came over me.

The sky was dark, the moon surrounded by drizzling clouds, going in and out of sight. Luke and I left the bar, his arm thrown around my shoulders as we laughed drunkenly and staggered out into the night. We took a short cut, wanting to get out of the rain. Unfortunately, that meant walking through some shady alleys, but having done it before several times, we felt confident in our safety.
That was our first mistake.
It wasn't long before someone stepped out of the shadows, all dressed in black, a mask over his face. His eyes were dark too, menacing and ruthless, but there was a fear there, detectable to even the most unobservant people. He barked out orders for us to stop and give him our money, watches, and valuable items.
Luke was instantly cold sober, his face an impassive stone. He held up his hands in act of surrender, to get the guy to trust him. “Hey man, we don't have any money.”
The guy in black shifted on his feet, twitching. I was scared, inexplicably terrified, but I knew in my heart Luke could hold his own in a fist fight if that's what this encounter went down to. He was lithe, fast, and cunning in his tactics.
“Don't fucking push it,” the mugger shouted, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. He suddenly pulls out a silver handgun, the metal of the barrel glinting in the moonlight.
Luke took a step back, protectively standing in front of me.
“You see this?” The man questioned, his tone light and he laughed. “Yeah, I'll use it. I'll use it man. Just give me your money!”
“Hey, we don't want any trouble. Honestly, we don't have any money. We spent it all on that bar over there.”
The man's eyes flicked between Luke and me, conflict prominent in his emotions. His hand started to shake visibly and then he was hitting his head, muttering under his breath. When he looked back up, something was changed in him. His mouth curved into a cruel snarl underneath the ski mask, his eyes dark and malicious. A shot rang through the echoing alleyway, piercing through my ears. Blood splattered on my clothes and when I blinked, I was on the ground, Luke motionless on top of my legs. My hands fisted his jacket, blood oozing between my tightly squeezed fingers.
Oh Jesus. Oh God. What-? No... Oh God.
The mugger sprinted past me, but I paid him no mind. I clutched at Luke, smacking his face to get him to respond when suddenly another shot cut through my ear drums, a shattering agony pin pointed in my lower back. I screamed, writhing on the cold, wet pavement of the alleyway until I was sucked into a void of unending darkness.

My eyes jerked wide open, the scream dying on my lips as I slowly became aware that I wasn't actually in pain anymore. Well... not that pain. My breath returned to normal, the sweat covering my body cooling. I ran a hand through my hair, bringing it back down over my face. Tears still leaked forbidden from my eyes. I wiped at them furiously, struggling to push the memories out of my mind.
My nurse suddenly burst into the room, her eyes wide with worry. “Mr. Neil, are you okay? I heard you shouting!”
I blinked at her quick, almost too hard to distinguish words. When my brain had finally registered what she said, I nodded. She walked briskly to my side, feeling my forehead, checking my pulse, and then she scanned the machines.
“Bad dream?” She all but whispered in question.
I nodded again, looking at my hands folded in my lap.
My nurse sat on the side of bed, looking into my face, searching it for... something. I stared her in the eye, blankly. “Mr. Neil... I don't do this very often, but... would you have tea with me outside? It's a beautiful Spring day, the trees are finally getting their leaves, the flowers are blooming. The gardens here are something to see.”
I blinked, again surprised by her actions. Out of the other three nurses I've had and who inevitably quit because of my irritability and lack of communication, this nurse was the best. She was consistent, demanding, but not harsh. A small smile twitched at my lips at her request and I found myself happy to oblige.
“Yes,” I whispered in a rather raspy voice due to long disuse of it.
My nurse smiled brightly at me. “Good. I'll come again in an hour. I'll even bring some sandwiches.”
When she left, I realized with disdain and happiness that I was splitting my face with a grin.