FicWad

I pulled my legs up to my chest, lighting the cigarette that had been dangling in between my lips. The room was silent. No one had anything to say. Spencer sat next to me, a cup of warm coffee attempting to keep his shaking body warm. Jon was talking. He was the only one brave enough to ask anything.
I knew I was terrified.
No matter how many times Spencer tried to tell me that everything would be fine, I just couldn't seem to believe it. I knew I should have done something sooner. That I should have been smarter. But my child like mind just couldn't think of doing something that you would hate. And now we're here.
I stared at the door in front of me, allowing the smoke to blow past my lips as I let out another shaky breath.
There was no definite way to see what was going to happen next. Everything just seemed to blur together. All I wanted to do was sleep. Take a break from reality. It just didn't seem to work. I couldn't sleep. Not with the thoughts about....you...running through my mind. I couldn't do it. Not with the state of things.
Spencer placed his hand over mine, the feeling sending chills up my body. Maybe his coffee had finally gone cold.
"It's going to be fine. He's going to be fine." I looked at him, my eyes hopeful. I took another drag of the cigarette, Jon walking back up to us.
"Brendon, you know you're not supposed to smoke in here." I looked up at him, and sighed, giving him my half smoked cigarette. I hadn't really been smoking it anyway. I mainly lit it for the sake of watching it burn. It was nice to watch something other than our life burn.
"What did they say?" Spencer asked in an almost silent voice. I looked back at the door, wanting, no wishing, that I could go in. I didn't want to hear what Jon had to say. It couldn't be good. At this point, nothing could be good. The white walls and tiled floor seemed to be the only things that reminded me of where I was as I went of in my own world. The occasional worker walking in and out of the room being the sharp reminder of what had happened. I wanted to take it back.
Regret is a terrible thing. It changes people. It makes them worried, nervous, sick. It makes me cry. And once that little hand moves again on the clock, I will have been feeling it for over four hours.
It looked almost as if the white paint on the door was chipping off in front of my eyes. The longer I stared the older it looked. The more worried I got. The more tense I got. The greater sense of dread washed over me. I couldn't help but sit and wait.
Breathe in.
Wait.
Breathe out.
Wait.
Breathe in.
Wait.
The door opened, and I closed my eyes.
Breathe out.
Everything will be fine.
Breathe in.
There's no more waiting.
Breathe out.
I don't want to know what's going to happen.
Breathe in.
I want to wait. I'm not ready to know.
Breathe out.
"You can see him now." I opened my eyes, staring at the man for a moment before he walked off.
Hold your breath.


~~~~~

It's going somewhere! I promise!

BackgroundNoise:I just don't understand why you have to be such a fucking twat! Why can't you leave me alone?

AnotherKnifeInMyHand:We're all hoping for a happy ending. (But we all know that it's not going to happen.)

RydenBeliever:You have an awesome username. Anyways, I'm glad you love it.

-xoxo Pansy.