Devin wakes up, and so does Pete.
"Can we see her?"
"One at a time, please. Is there any immediate family around?"
"Well, the closest thing she has right now is Patrick, her boyfriend...but I don't think he's stable enough right now." Pete said, gesturing to Patrick, who was a tangled mess of heart sickness and worry.
"You can see her right now, then. Follow me." Pete followed the doctor down the hall a ways until they reached a gray door. She turned the handle and gestured inside, and Pete stepped in. It was a heart-wrenching scene. Devin lay still on the stark white bed, her sheets pulled evenly up to her chest. Her chest was rising and falling sharply, and it looked like every breath was a struggle. She had tubes stuck up her nose. Her hair was still sweat drenched, and it was fanned out on the pillow. Worst of all were her wrists, which had been carefully placed on top of the sheets, each on a small pillow. The bandages were thick and Pete knew the wounds had been stitched up, but there were still patches of scarlet soaking through in places.
"Will she be ok?" Pete asked in a hushed voice to the doctor as he sat down in a plastic chair next to the bed.
"We think she'll live...but we have to watch her closely." She replied, and she turned and left.
Pete sat with his chin resting in his hands as he watched Devin's chest rise and fall.
"Oh, Dev, what did you do?" he muttered, and he slowly raised his hand and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. They fluttered momentarily, and Pete watched with wide eyes, praying she'd wake, but she lay still as ever. He sighed and turned away. He let Joe go in, and then Andy. Finally, Patrick stood up.
"Uh...dude, are you sure you want to see her?" Andy asked softly.
Patrick nodded, his tearstained face glistening in the fluorescent hospital lights.
"Maybe I should go with you." Pete said, standing up.
"No, I can do this myself." Patrick argued, and he bravely marched off down the hall. When he came to the gray door, he put his hand on the doorknob and hesitated...he didn't want to see her like this. But he needed to. He opened the door and gasped. It was a horrible sight. He stumbled over to the chair at her bedside.
"Devin...Love..." he sobbed. He lay his head down on the bed and placed his hand on her face. He cried for a long time. He hadn't cried like this since he was 12, when he fell off his bike and had broken his arm. Finally, he slowly sat up and dragged his feet back to the waiting room.
"She...she really hurt herself..." he muttered.
The four friends all fell asleep in the waiting room chairs, falling into a fitful sleep full of nightmares.
Patrick awoke the next morning with his head resting on Andy's shoulder. Joe's arm was stretched across his chest. Patrick sat up and moved Joe's arm, and looked around the waiting room. The clock read 10:36, which made perfect sense, seeing as how they had been in the hospital all day and had stayed up 'till nearly 2:00 a.m. Patrick ran his fingers through his hair, and fumbled with his glasses. Pete was gone; he figured he must be in Devin's room. He sighed and stood up, and went to make himself a cup of coffee. He couldn't cry anymore, he knew he had to be strong. For Devin's sake.
Pete sat at Devin's bedside, absently stroking her arm. She had still not woken up, but her breathing was deepening, and the doctor said that was a good sign. Pete sighed and looked up at the clock; it was after 10. He had been in there since 7:30. He figured the other guys must be up, and he began to stand up to give someone else a chance to see Devin. As he turned to leave, he heard a soft whimper, and spun around; Devin's eyes were just barely open.
"Pete?" she croaked softly.
"Devin! You're awake!" Pete said happily and he rushed back to her bedside.
"What...where am I...oh, no, Patrick! Is he ok?" she tried to sit up, but Pete pushed her gently back down on the pillow and frowned, brushed her bangs out of her eyes.
"Yeah...why wouldn't he be?"
"Kevon...he said he'd slit...slit his throat..." Devin whispered.
"Kevon? Dev, what happened right before you...well, what were you doing while I was in the kitchen?"
"Kevon called...said he'd find me..."
"Oh, Dev. So you went and tried to..."
"Pete, I just wanted the pain to go away." She whispered, starting to cry softly.
"Devin, we've told you repeatedly-"
"Well, you guys didn't seem to get it!" she cried hysterically, rather loud for someone in her condition, "I wasn't happy! After I left Kevon, I thought my problems would go away...then he called me..."
"Dev, why didn't you tell us this?" Pete asked, his voice barely above a whisper, "That you were...suicidal."
"I don't know...I thought I'd tell you later, after I was better."
"But how could you get better if you didn't ask for help? What if you'd..."
"Don't say the word."
"Well, when you feel this way, you need to tell us, so we can help you, ok?"
Devin nodded slightly, but I hurt her head.
"Lay still, Dev," Pete told her, and he grasped her arm affectionately, "Do you want to see Patrick? He's been a worried mess, you know."
"Really?" Devin whispered, "Yeah. Send him in."
"Get better, Dev." Pete choked, and he turned away.