Guilty 1

Hospital machinery beeped methodically around him. The whole room had that stale smell of blood, sickness and disinfectant, common to all public hospitals. How was anybody supposed to get better in these places? It was awful.
Sitting in a white chair, the unforgiving plastic kind, sent to earth purely to annoy, Zac breathed in the scent of the two bunches of flowers sitting on the bed-side table, so he wouldn't have to smell the hospital. Another thing common to these bleached white laboratories, the smell of death.
The pale sheets covered what would have been an even paler body, had it not been for the livid bruises. Bandages and plaster casts were wrapped around every limb. The only movement from the body was the rise and fall of lungs; little more than a flutter.

How long had they been sitting there?

Angevin sat on the plastic chair with the over-stuffed cushion – they'd flipped a coin for it – opposite him, her slender fingers gently clutching the body's bandaged one. She and the body – better known as Div – were so close. Maybe because they were so alike. They were both what Zac liked to term pseudo-Goths. Dyed black hair and black clothes but that was about it. No Marilyn Manson look-a-likes here. Zac sometimes felt like he was the odd-one-out. Still, he'd done his best to fit in today, dressed all in black. His hair, in the little braids that he couldn't be bothered taking out, was pulled back. Angevin had actually given him an approving half-smile when he'd walked in. She mustn't have been able to see the bright yellow Docs. His excuse? They were the only shoes he could find. The real reason? They looked better when he wore all black, in his opinion.
This wasn't the first time they'd had to come and visit Div in hospital. Apparently he was extremely clumsy. This time he'd fallen down the stairs in his house. Angevin knew that was bullshit, because Div had confided in her. Because the exact same thing happened to her. She hoped she'd packed on enough foundation and concealer to hide the fading bruise on her left cheek. And the long sleeves of her black Shakespearean dress hid the painful stitches in her arm. She knew that Zac was suspicious about Div's supposed clumsiness, but how could she tell him? How could she tell anybody but Div? He was the only person who understood. Because the exact same thing happened to him. It'd put them both in hospital more than once before. And it looked like Div wouldn't be coming out. A single tear trickled from her eye. Quickly, she brushed it away, hoping it hadn't smudged her make-up. There were more recent bruises there too.
Gently, she looked at Div's hand. Underneath all the bandages and casts, she knew was skin almost completely black with bruises. The wrist had been totally crushed, this arm alone broken in at least four places. The doctor's grim humour had been injected into one summary statement,
"It looks like confetti in there,"
Div'd had such beautiful hands. Angevin could tell a lot about people just from studying their hands.
Hands couldn't lie like faces or words could. Div, his hands were strong, but crisscrossed with scars. He was a strong person on the outside, but inside he was a network of open wounds and weeping lacerations that would never heal. Whereas Zac, his hands were a little stubby, his fingers callused and blistered more often than not from playing the drums. If, in the way of pain, he had experienced nothing worse than blistered fingers, then he was luckiest person alive!
She felt like crying. If only she could've had Zac's life! No, she wouldn't wish her pathetic excuse for a life on anyone! But if only Div could have had Zac's life, then he wouldn't be lying here, clinging to life by a burning thread of cotton! Oh yeah, she knew it'd take a miracle for him to come out of this alive. The doctor hadn't just made that stupid joke,
"I'm amazed he's held on this long,"

Standing up, Zac went over to Angevin. There were tears trickling down her otherwise perfectly made-up cheeks. All he could do was put an arm around her shoulders and let her cry. No words of comfort, no smiles, no empty reassurances. He knew as well as she did that Div would never get out of this bed.
"Why did it have to happen to him Zac? He never hurt anybody," she sobbed softly.
"I don't know Vinn, I don't know," they sat there for a long time in silence, when suddenly, he felt Angevin stiffen.
"Vinn?" a hoarse voice, no louder than a wheeze.
"Div?" her reply was choked.
"Zac?"
"He's here too. Don't speak Div, save your strength," the ghost of a smile appeared on his bruised and bandaged face.
"No," there was a long silence.
"What do you mean 'no'? You're gonna get better Div! You have to!!"
"No, Vinn. I don't wanna stay. Let me go,"
"No! I won't let you die!"
"Zac?"
"Yeah Div?" Zac was trying very hard to control his runaway emotions.
"Take care of Vinn, don't let this happen to her. Promise me,"
"What do you me–"
"Promise, please,"
"Promised," Div seemed to relax at that.
"Div? Please, don't leave!" Angevin was getting desperate. She wouldn't let her best-friend, her pillar of strength, die. She couldn't!
"Would you make me stay, Vinn? After this?"
"I can't do it alone! I need you Div," she was hunched over the bandaged hand she grasped with both of her own.
"You've got Zac," his voice was getting weaker and weaker. This was taking too much out of him.
"He doesn't understand! You're the only person I can count on! Div, please don't leave me!"
"You're stronger than I am Vinn. I can't do it any more," he was looking beyond her, "She's calling me, I want to go to Her. I want to see what the next world is like. Let me go to Her, Vinn,"
"No,"
"Please," it was barely a whisper. She shook her head, but he couldn't hold on. He didn't want to hold on. "I love you Vinn. I'll be watching out for you," his eyes drifted closed as the last cotton thread gave and his soul was flying free.
"Div?" Angevin felt the grip on her hand ease; she backed away slightly, "Div? Div?!"
"Vinn, he's gone," the tears ran glistening trails down either side of Zac's face; she didn't hear.
"Div?! Div! DIV!!" she screamed and shook him by the shoulders, "WAKE UP! WAKE UP DAMN YOU!!!" grabbing her by the arms, Zac forced her to look at him.
"Dammit Vinn! He's gone! Don't you understand?! He's not going to wake-up! Dammit to hell, he's dead!!" she collapsed on top of the empty shell that had once been Div Willetts and wept. Zac collapsed into the chair, leaned against the wall and buried his head in his hands.
"DAMMIT TO FUCKING HELL!!!" he screamed and bashed his fist against the concrete wall.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there crying when the nurses came and escorted Angevin and himself out of the room. The last thing he saw was a doctor turn off all the methodically beeping hospital machinery, then cover with a pale sheet what would have been an even paler body, had it not been for the livid bruises. . . .


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