✔ DRUNK words, SOBER thoughts ✖ hemmings au

43: Letters & Aftershocks

ARI.

Chaos couldn't compare to my life at that moment. This was more than unjust frenzy. What this was, was bedlam at its finest hour. It was complete pandemonium; a war with no end and no hope in sight. This was an uprising turbo fueled with extreme pain and God, did I want it to stop. But there was no stopping it; it was like a fiery bullet straight through my heart and Luke was the one who fired.

Apparently I passed out.

And I don't blame my body's innate ability of falling straight into fight or flight. I just wished I could've fled farther in the unknown. I just wanted to be back into a state of happiness and carefree; a mindset of pure ecstasy. But life wouldn't let me.

I didn't know what extreme desolation felt like until this horrible Christmas morning. Even when my dad died, my shattered heart seemed to mend itself and I knew I was going to be okay. But this, this was a burning torture and I didn't think I could survive the impeccable pain that shredded every part of me. My head was throbbing, my heartbeat low and when my eyelids finally had the strength to open, the fluorescent lights above me blinded my weak eyes.

"Whoa there Ari," a voice softly spoke, "don't get up."

"What's going on?" I croaked. My eyes squinted, as my head slowly turned to find the mystery voice.

Calum stood at my bedside with concern painted upon his tanned face. As my vision adjusted to the light and I observed the boy before me, I could see that his brown eyes were glossed with fresh tears and that his cheeks were stained with dry trails of previous beads.

"You were sedated," he calmly spoke, but as his best friend I could easily hear the slight crack in his voice. Calum reached over to hold my hand, his nostrils flaring out slightly before he bit his bottom lip, "I thought we were going to lose you too."

Then it hit me.

"Too?" I breathed, "where's Luke? Where is he? Is he okay?"

I looked up at Calum with tears streaming and a pathetic pout on my face. Without saying a word, I was silently pleading that Luke was okay. Praying hard and pinching my innermost mind that what I saw earlier was just a nightmare; a cruel joke that the Devil was playing on me.

"Ari," Calum took a deep breath inward before exhaling. A solitary tear dribbling from his eye and I began to shake my head in denial.

"Don't you say it Cal," I whimpered, "don't you fùcking dare say it. God! Please, don't say it! I need Luke, please... just let him be okay."

Crying was inevitable - so I pulled my hands away from Calum's and hid my face into my palms. I gasped for air, struggling to breathe as I sat in complete, utter pain. I heard the chair next to the bed skid against the floor and moments later, two large hands cupped the sides of my face.

"Luke's not dead," Calum declared, and the second that revelation was spoken, my head slowly lifted. I was met with the truth in Calum's brown eyes as his hands trailed from my wet cheeks to assuringly hold mine.

"What?" I spoke cautiously; slowly even, in attempt to shield my heart from any unwanted slashes.

"Luke's not dead," he confirmed. "But he's not okay."

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

Calum swallowed the lump in his throat, "he was hanging for so--" he cried, hiccuping and stumbling across each word, "for so fùcking long. And, he, something about oxygen and the brain and I don't know what the doctors were saying and--"

My best friend couldn't hold it in anymore and an ongoing slew of tears filtered from his eyes. His normally strong demeanor faltered, and his knees buckled, prompting the tall figure to collapse onto the chair. This entire room spun at 360 degrees, as Calum was now the person who needed a friend.