Don't Worry, I'll Keep You Warm

"Do you think this the right thing to do?"

Her voice cracked. By some act of God, no tears had slipped down her face yet. She squeezed her son’s hand as she waited for her husband to answer.

"I don’t know, Donna, the doctors said the damage was inside his brain and even if he did wake up, which he may never do, he’ll be a vegetable for the rest of his life. I think it’s time we let him go," he said evenly.

Biting her lip, she looked at the machine, eyeing the switch that would end it all. The doctors told them to do it whenever they were ready. “Good bye, George," she sobbed, standing up in unison with her husband as they put their hands on the button, together.

The T.V. in room was switched off immediately. Why it was even on the first place, the Quinns had no idea. Probably one of the nurses doing some sort of daily care-taking thing and trying to catch up on her show at the same time. Regardless, it wasn’t exactly the first thing you wanted to see on a day like this.

They took their places on either side of Kellin’s bed. The familiar sound of the monitors filled Mrs. Quinn’s ears; a sound that had become a comfort in the past two years as they reflected the fact that her son’s heart was still beating. “I don’t want to let him go," she admitted softly.

"I know you don’t," her husband’s deep voice, that had been so strong for so long, was cracking. “I don’t either. I never stopped hoping. I miss him."

"I do too."

But that was the thing. When you miss someone, it means they’re gone. If they were here, you wouldn’t miss them so much. You can’t long for something that’s right in front of you.

That’s why they knew it was time to let him go for real.

"Do you think he’ll feel any pain?" she asked, gripping her son’s hand even tighter. Across from her, her husband shrugged his shoulders, not taking his eyes off of his son’s face. A knock on the door made them look up, nearly startling them.

It was Kellin’s Doctor. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Quinn," he said, stepping in to the room and shutting the door behind him. “How are you today?"

"As good as we can be, I suppose," answered Mr. Quinn.

Dr. Adams nodded with understanding. He took a deep breath, ruffling his fingers through his hair. “I understand we’ve come to the decision to pull the plug on Kellin, then," he started. “Now, I don’t want to give you any sort of false hope at all. There is a chance he will never, ever recover. But there is one more thing I want to try. It’s a very experimental procedure, but it may work. He won’t feel any pain. It also may not work." He looked to both of them, and to the patient they were discussion.

"What is the procedure?" asked Kellin’s mother, willing the spark of hope in her chest to die down. She couldn’t handle another disappointment.

"We would basically plant electrodes in his brain to shock him in to being awake. It will only take around 5 minutes, but I’ll need to you to step out of the room while we do this, and even afterwards I’d like to talk to you both about his possible condition in my office."

Mrs. Quinn looked at her son, and at her husband. Her instinct as a mother told her to try everything and anything to wake him up. But the nagging voice in the back of her head also argued that maybe, just maybe, Kellin didn’t want to wake up.

"I think we’ll need a minute to consider it," she said, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

—-

It didn’t really hit Vic until he was running down the street. What in the world was he actually doing? He was sprinting at full speed on a busy road to a hospital, to stop a tortured couple from finally letting their son go. He couldn’t imagine the amount of pain they’d already gone through in the past two years. Now, they were ready to stop being constantly disappointed. They were ready to finally move on from this.

And he was going to try to stop them from doing that. And when that happened, what was he going to say? Just admit to the fact that he’d been sneaking in to their son’s room the entire time he had been working for them, which was a month or so?

They would fire him. Hell, they might even have him arrested. And for what? Just to bring about more pain on them. Breathing heavily, he stopped in his tracks and stared at the pavement underneath his feet. His heart was racing almost has fast as his thoughts. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to keep going towards the hospital.

His feet wouldn’t move. They stayed rooted to the ground. Cars flew by, a woman walking her dog walked on the other side of the road, not bothering to look at him.

It was such an internal conflict and it was making him feel sick. Turning his head to the sky, he wondered. Kellin was practically dead, but was he up there? No, he was trapped in his own head, that wouldn’t even allow him to wake up.

But God damn it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to go. That kid deserved the wake up. His parents deserved to see those eyes flutter open and Vic wanted to make that happen.

—-

All around me, there is darkness. I cannot see, except sometimes I’m thrown in to a memory. A baseball game from when I was seven. Flying down to Disney World. The first day of high school. The first day of kindergarten. A drawing I did when I was eight. Art shows I entered in.

It’s lucid, and its not. I’m confused by myself and I want out and it feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I feel trapped.

—-

The hospital was the same as it was the first time Vic had come here. He didn’t bother with the receptionist, he remembered exactly where to go. Many times in classes and at home he would sit and think about his visit, reliving it, picturing Kellin lying in his hospital bed with his hair splayed out on either side of his head. He was so frail looking.

Now, being back in that lobby, Vic felt himself start to drag along. What was he going to say to the boy’s parents when he just popped in unexpectedly? Letting out a deep sigh, he knew there was no easy way to do this and trudged on to the elevator.

He was on the second floor in no time. The ICU was quiet. But then again, it was probably always like that, save for when someone was dying. That thought haunted Vic - there were people that died here. Someone probably died in Kellin’s room. Or worse, someone was going to die there today.

"Fuck," he muttered, shoving his hands in to his pockets and keeping his head down as he walked. He stopped next to the room. He didn’t even need to see the numbers to know it was the right one, he just knew.

Sitting inside, he pictured Mr. and Mrs. Quinn, holding their sons hands. Both of them probably a wreck, saying their final goodbyes and questioning God, asking any higher power if this was the right thing to do, if they wanted this, if Kellin wanted this, and most importantly, why? It was a heartbreaking notion and Vic could not believe what he was about to do.

His hands were shaking as he grabbed the door knob, turning it slowly and then all at once. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his heart practically skipping a beat as he opened his mouth to speak, “No, don’t pull the plug yet."

There was no answer. Not a single word, because the only other person in the room was asleep. “What?" Vic said aloud, looking around. The lights weren’t dimmed like the first time he had come; and on the ground next to a chair was a purse that he had seen at the Quinns’ house before. Did they step out of the room or something?

Worse, was he too late? No, the beeping monitors told him he wasn’t. Were there more wires attached to him than last time? Vic couldn’t be sure.

sighing, he had no choice. He wasn’t going to leave and come back. He took a seat and placed his hand over Kellin’s.

"I won’t lie. I want you to wake up and I’m not completely sure if that’s what you want. But either way, I don’t think its time to let you go free yet." He squeezed the cold hand, almost feeling weird at the fact that it didn’t squeeze back like any other human would.

"I’m sorry for intruding on your life. Or death. I don’t know what you call this. But I’m sorry about it. I read your journal, Kellin. A lot of it. And the day before you got hit by that car, do you know what you said? You said you wanted more happy days. That’s what sent me running here at full speed. I want you to have more happy days."

He paused. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but the question was whether or not it should be said. It’s not like he could hear him anyways.

"And I want to be beside you during those happy days. I don’t really know you personally, but I know who you are. And I… I’ve decided that I like you, Kellin. Not just cause you’re cute. You’re talented and you seem like such a solid person, even if you’re a little troubled. It just really sucks I never got a chance to tell you all this while you can hear it."

He stroked Kellin’s hand with his thumb. His skin was so smooth and so pale. As a whole, this boy was delicate. Half of Vic just wanted to scoop him up and cradle him in his arms. “I’m sorry, Kellin," he said, his voice growing softer. “I don’t want you to die. I just want you to be happy."

He leaned forward, stroking Kellin’s hair. It was really soft. there were so many tubes and wires on his head; he looked like an alien or something. Still, Vic saw that boy underneath all the hospital equipment. He just wished he could see in his mind, know what he wanted.

"Oh, Kellin," Vic frowned. He bowed his head, pressing his lips to Kellin’s forehead.

It wasn’t fair that Kellin couldn’t react to what Vic had done. He didn’t have a say in anything. Sighing, Vic almost felt guilty for such a simple gesture, even though he knew in his heart that Kellin probably didn’t mind. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to clear his thoughts. What was he even doing here…?

Suddenly and without warning, one of the monitors started beeping louder than usual, and a whole lot faster. There were lines and numbers that Vic didn’t understand, and they were going off like crazy. He got up, unsure of what to do. Was Kellin dying or something? He figured he should call for a nurse, but the door was already opening and doctors and nurses were hurrying in with shocked expressions on their faces.

"Who are you?" asked one of the nurses pushing in a tray of different things and looking at Vic.

"A friend," he said. Beyond the nurse, standing outside the room were Kellin’s parents, looking just as astounded at Vic’s appearance. Mrs. Quinn looked to be an emotional wreck, clutching on to her husband for dear life. “What’s happening?" Vic asked, backing up to give the doctors more room.

They didn’t answer, they were too busy messing with the tubes attachced to Kellin’s face. And that’s when Vic noticed something. The boy’s facial expression - his eyebrows had scrunched up. They were taking the tubes out and the monitors were going crazy, and Mrs. Quinn was sobbing.

Then his eyes opened, if only for a second.