The first thing I did that morning was go to the bathroom. At 5:51am while still in the clothes I wore to therapy. I rinsed my mouth and washed my face with the lukewarm water that dripped from the sink. And as I am me, I inhaled some water and had a massive coughing fit. It was horrible. Horrible enough to wake Ashton up, that is.
"I'm so sorry. I was just," I coughed. "I was just washing up a bit."
"Nah, nah. That's ok. I usually wake up really early anyway. Uh, you need any water?" He pointed his thumb behind him.
I nodded, my throat itching for something to drink. He came back with a glass of water. He put a straw in it too so it wouldn't be hard for me to drink it. I refused to drink from the straw and I pulled it out of the cup and into the sink. I chugged half the glass with my first sip, and finished the rest of it in little swigs.
"Thanks." I had plainly said, and walked out of the bathroom, putting the glass on the counter where 4 bottles of water were standing.
"Uh, you're welcome." Ashton followed me to our beds and we sat there; probably for a few minutes, before talking. "Do we have anything planned today?"
I heard some sirens close by. It was probably an ambulance coming to the hospital. "Nah, I don't think so." I sat back and turned on the TV. There weren't any other channels so we were stuck watching the news. "Bummer. Nothing else on." I listened to the news reporter on the screen. It looked like they were at the intersection just before the hospital. The reporter spoke about an accident happening, with a 2 cars piled up behind her. One of the cars, the one on the bottom, looked awfully familiar, making my stomach twist.
"The driver of the maroon Land Rover has been confirmed dead." But, Aiden had a car like that. "He has been identified as Mister Aiden Reynolds. Aged 21." No Aiden. Ah fuck. No. No this can't be real. It can't be. No it can't. He takes care of himself and he's good at it. He wasn't suicidal. He would never do that.
But just saying that he wouldn't do such a thing didn't bring any comfort to the fact that my only friend and person to take care of me was dead. Shit.
I started crying. And bundling myself up in the blanket. It wasn't much to hide myself in but I was small enough to fit under it. I screamed and screamed, but nothing would come out. I kicked my legs and finally, I got out of the blanket and shut my eyes, hoping that I was just dreaming.
No, no, no no no.
He can't just die on me like that. No. He's stronger than that; he's carried me through everything and HE CANT JUST DIE ON ME.
I didn't know what I was feeling. All this anger and rage, but then there was a wave of grief and sadness. He was the only person who actually cared about me. He's the only person who loved me.
"Uh..." Ah shit. Ashton was still there, watching me have my fit in silence. "Are you," He scratched his head and shifted himself to face me. "Are you okay?" He put his hand on my shoulder.
"Don't fucking touch me." I sat up, just to pull me knees to my chest, and bury my head between them.
"Uhm, uh, okay? W-why?" He didn't know what was going on, and I planned on it staying that way.
"JUST DON'T FUCKING TALK. AND DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME." I started hyperventilating. "Just, please. Please. I need some time to think." Fuck it, I didn't need time to think. I needed Aiden back.
Ashton started listening to the TV and just then realised. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry." He sat face-down on his bed and frowned.
"Just, please don't speak. It's a lot to take in. You know, and right after he found me in the fucking bathroom, half dead. It, it really gets to you." I covered my mouth with my left hand, and held my stomach with my other arm. I started sobbing, over and over again. Tears staining my cheeks when I wasn't crying into the pillow.
I looked to the TV; it showed the maroon car with him inside. He was drenched in blood, his eyes closed and glass shards in his face. It looked like his head was smashed in from the windshield. I gasped and looked away. I started sulking into my blanket again and hid under it to muffle the sniffles and cries.
Ashton had fallen asleep at around 6:15, but I hadn't slept since 5:50. I was up thinking about what I just saw. Blood everywhere and all the glass in his face and eyes. I still heard sirens outside but I guess it was normal, since it was a hospital. I looked out the window, and just realised.
It looked like they were at the intersection just before the hospital.
The intersection just before the hospital.
Just before the hospital.
The fucking hospital. The fucking hospital that I was in. He died because of me. He fucking died because of me.
It's my fault he's dead.
I'm the reason I don't have my best friend with me anymore.
I'M THE FUCKING REASON MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD.
He died on the way to visit me in the hospital. He wouldn't just go out in the morning like that. He's not stupid. He said if I was ever put in the hospital, he would try to visit me everyday, and he would be waiting for me to wake up, so he would be the first thing I saw.
I held my stomach as if I was about to throw up, and I nearly was.
I checked my phone which was on the left bedside table.
No. No. NO.
I thought it couldn't get any worse, but the odds are never in my favour.
It was my 18th birthday.
He came to visit me on my birthday, but instead, fucking DIED.
I can't do this anymore.
I just can't.