Categories > Original > Drama
Stark white hallways. Halogen lighting. It's meant to be comforting, but it does nothing to mask the pain of the souls that are unfortunate enough to end up here. I turn the corner, only to lead myself into another blinding white corridor. As I reach my destination, I get an odd feeling in my stomach. I'm not surprised, of course. No matter how many times I visit this place, no matter how often I become prisoner to its suffering, it still unnerves me.
Then I'm at the door. The very same door I've walked through hundreds of times over the last five months. I know this will be the last time I ever pass through it. Slowly, I push it open, stepping inside a room that is equally as white as the hallway. And there he is. A weak, tired shell of what was once a lively young man. He turns his head, and it takes him a moment to recognize me. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I hold them back for his sake.
“Hey.” he whispers hoarsely, giving me a weak echo of what I can only assume is a smile. I do my best to return the smile, and whisper out my own greeting.
“Hi.” He's gotten worse since my last visit, no doubt the effects of the deadly disease that has ravaged his body. I see him shift in the bed and he opens his mouth.
“The doctor says I'm improving a little.” There goes the doctor, giving him false hope again. I smile and nod. We both know it's not true, that he's only got a few hours left. I look at him, and his eyes meet mine. The pain and heartbreak I see in them breaks my heart, and, despite my efforts to keep the promise I made to him when this began, I start to cry. He wants to comfort me, I can tell, but he knows there's nothing he can say.
“You don't deserve this,” I choke out, “That should be me in that bed.” I see him struggle into an upright position.
“No,” He tries to sound stern, but it's a losing battle, “I'm here for a reason. This is part of God's plan for me.”
The tears start to flow faster and I look at him. He looks exhausted, as though just the simple movement of sitting up has drained him of energy. I wipe my eyes and walk over, sitting beside him on the bed. He tries to lay back down, but he needs my help. I tuck him under the covers and brush some hair from his eyes. We sit in silence for a moment before I hear his light snores. I sigh and look over at him, kissing him softly on the forehead as I stand up.
I head for the door, realizing that this is the last time I'll ever see him again. As I walk through the exit, I look back.
“Goodbye, Alex,” I whisper, “I'll see you in heaven.”
Then I'm at the door. The very same door I've walked through hundreds of times over the last five months. I know this will be the last time I ever pass through it. Slowly, I push it open, stepping inside a room that is equally as white as the hallway. And there he is. A weak, tired shell of what was once a lively young man. He turns his head, and it takes him a moment to recognize me. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I hold them back for his sake.
“Hey.” he whispers hoarsely, giving me a weak echo of what I can only assume is a smile. I do my best to return the smile, and whisper out my own greeting.
“Hi.” He's gotten worse since my last visit, no doubt the effects of the deadly disease that has ravaged his body. I see him shift in the bed and he opens his mouth.
“The doctor says I'm improving a little.” There goes the doctor, giving him false hope again. I smile and nod. We both know it's not true, that he's only got a few hours left. I look at him, and his eyes meet mine. The pain and heartbreak I see in them breaks my heart, and, despite my efforts to keep the promise I made to him when this began, I start to cry. He wants to comfort me, I can tell, but he knows there's nothing he can say.
“You don't deserve this,” I choke out, “That should be me in that bed.” I see him struggle into an upright position.
“No,” He tries to sound stern, but it's a losing battle, “I'm here for a reason. This is part of God's plan for me.”
The tears start to flow faster and I look at him. He looks exhausted, as though just the simple movement of sitting up has drained him of energy. I wipe my eyes and walk over, sitting beside him on the bed. He tries to lay back down, but he needs my help. I tuck him under the covers and brush some hair from his eyes. We sit in silence for a moment before I hear his light snores. I sigh and look over at him, kissing him softly on the forehead as I stand up.
I head for the door, realizing that this is the last time I'll ever see him again. As I walk through the exit, I look back.
“Goodbye, Alex,” I whisper, “I'll see you in heaven.”
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