I hate hospitals.

I've always hated them and I will always hate them.

Now more than ever.

It's like I'm reliving one of the worst days if my life but everything is different.

When I waited this time until Elliot was stable, Thomas sat by my side. When my parents rushed into the hospital and wanted to know what happened I couldn't say a word.

Thomas spoke only when it was necessary, the nurses did the rest.

I shed a tear every now and then but otherwise I felt numb, which I'm grateful for. All the pain and guilt would drive me crazy. Drive me crazy.

Maybe so much that I would start to panic.

My gaze wandered to my hands. I washed them, though a little red was still there. His blood on my hands.

Blood on my hands. My fault.

My fault. I should've opened my eyes and see how much he struggled.

I should've accepted his no and we would've never went to Target.

"We walked to target. We laughed. And when we arrived and went into the store there was this kind man asking us where to find kitchen utensils. Eli told him and we went to get our things. The kind man appeared in front of us and wanted to take our money, a kitchen knife in his hand. Eli pushed me behind him and told the man we didn't have any but obviously the man knew we lied so Elliot took my hand and we started running. At the exit was another man standing. He had a mask and approached us. Mom, dad he had a gun and pointed it at us."

My words.

"Elliot pushed me away, the man shot at him and the lights started to flicker and I was so scared and it happened so fast and I feel so bad and it's all my fault."

I gasped. This was a bad idea. I should have just sat their in silence like I'd done the past hours.

My breathing came out ragged. "I'm gonna get myself some water." I croaked and stoop up.

On wobbly legs I turned left to find a vending machine. My sight was hazy and I was hot. No I was cold.

"Are you okay?" A nurse approached me. "You look pale. Wait come here." Her hand lay on my back as she guided me into an examination room.

What had I done? I didn't feel pleased with this outcome. I only thought about myself while Elliot was fighting for his life. If he is alive.

A sob made my whole body shudder and I felt myself being ripped apart. I was thinking about myself again. Why was I like this? Why was I so selfish?

The way he lay lifeless in my arms. Cold. Pale. Blood everywhere. The way everything repeated itself. Like I was falling into the hole again. The one where  I nearly reached the top.

I was so close to getting some old parts of me again. Everything I do makes me hate myself. I can't even care about a person long enough.

I hate myself. I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself.

"Here." The young nurse held out her hand. A pill. It looked familiar. "This will help calm you down for a bit." She also handed me a bottle of water.

Without hesitation I chugged both down. My plan worked out. But at what cost?

"Thank you." I sniffed. "I'm going back to my family." She helped me to stand up and gave me a reassuring smile.

The bottle was clenched between my fingers as I sat down again. I couldn't look Thomas or my parents in the eyes. They'd know and if they knew I got something they would be furious.

The lights from the ceiling blended my eyes and made my eyes tear up, though I didn't look away. I felt so much lighter.

The voices and noise around me got tuned out, the hospital blurred into a void as I sat there, staring at the ceiling.

"He's stable. We brought him to intensive care unit. It's only a matter of time until he wakes up. One person at a time can visit him."

I didn't notice the person coming or going again, just heard the words. The words that changed everything. He was alive. He made it. He's not dead.

We l stood up and even my parents eyes were glistening with tears in them.

I fell into Thomas' arms, clutching his shoulders to prevent myself from falling as I sobbed into the croock of his neck.

He was alive. Elliot was alive.

//°°\\

My mom went first, then my dad, then me and lastly even Thomas.

He was asleep so nobody stayed thag long, though my mom went in again. When I heard voices inside, my dad rushed to get in. I also wanted to jump up but soon I heard yelling.

They shouted at each other. A loud bang followed inside, followed by my parents both leaving the room. Mom cried in Dads arms.

Without thinking I opened the door. I stood still, looking at my brother. He just stared back looking angry. Or sad.

My first instinct was to cry, embrace him in a hug or scream at him for why he would do something like that. But that wouldn't help. He wanted to die but now he's alive. Of course he's angry.

I looked down to my feet. A book. He threw a book at my parents. I crouched down to pick it up.

I felt Elliot still eyeing me. When I looked up again he indeed was staring at me with fury dripping off his face.

So I just threw the book right into his direction.

It hit him in the stomach and he groaned. "What the fuck?"

"You throw books at our parents, so why shouldn't I be allowed to throw it back?" I stepped closer to his bed. "And you looked at me like you wanted to murder me a few seconds ago. I'm angry as well. You're not different."

That must've caught him off guard. His expression was shocked and he couldn't bring out a single word. So I continued.

"When I woke up after taking too much medication." Wow I said it. Out loud without hesitating. "Everyone around me wanted to pity me. They walked around me as if I eggshells surrounded me."

"So why would I treat you differently when that was the thing that made me feel like I was different?"

He laughed. Out of the top of his lungs. "You threw a book at me." He threw head back. "You threw a book at me and now I feel better. How ironic is that?" A tear formed in the corner of his eye and he rubbed it away.

"You understand." He said after a while, more serious. "You understand."

I did. I understand the way he must feel even though his situation is kinda different.

Even though I did understand I couldn't help the anger and the sadness tying a knot in my stomach. I didn't even understand why.

In fact, I didn't understand anything. Not even my own thoughts.

Nothing at all.