Thirteen - Spike

Ingrid went slack in my arms. I pulled away from her. Her eyes were closed, she wasn’t breathing and I couldn’t hear her heart.

Without even thinking, I slammed the button on the wall. Within seconds, a doctor rushed into the room, saw her, looked at the monitor that showed a continuous line, and shouted for help. He pushed me out the way and shouted orders at the nurses.

They worked around the room, trying to start her heart again. The doctor started CPR while a nurse charged the defibrillator. I backed away until I hit the wall. I slid down to the floor and buried my head in my hands.

She was gone, dead. Her heart wasn’t beating, she wasn’t breathing, she wasn’t moving. She was dead. The only girl I’d ever loved was dead.

Without looking at her, I stood up and left the room. Leda and Zack – her parents – were sat further along the corridor. The obviously hadn’t seen or heard the nurses rush into their daughter’s room; they were smiling and laughing.

As I approached, dragging my feet, they looked up. Their smiled dropped as they noticed my expressionless face.

Leda tried a nervous smile. “Spike?” she asked.

I swallowed. “She’s dead,” I said shakily, my voice cracking.

She gasped and grabbed Zack’s hand. Tears freely fell from her eyes. She looked like Ingrid so much I had to look away. Zack didn’t move, didn’t react in any way. But I could have sworn I saw tears swelling in his eyes.

My knees finally gave way and I fell to the ground. I couldn’t help feeling it was my fault she was dead. I had been the last one to see her alive, heart beating, lungs breathing, as gorgeous as she always had been

I couldn’t bear to think about her anymore, couldn’t even bear to merely think her name. I just wanted to die too, at least that way I’d be with her. I couldn’t be bothered, what was there left for me?

I forced myself to stand up. It took a while but finally I was stood on shaky legs. I walked down the stairs and into the noon light. I walked the three miles home, opened my front door and trudged to my bedroom door. I absent-mindedly slammed it behind me, slid the lock across and fell to the floor. I finally let the tears out, and when they started, they never stopped.

After a while of silently crying, Mum came to my door. She knocked on the wood. When I didn’t respond, she knocked again.

“Spike? Spike, are you alright?” she asked. I didn’t reply.

I went and shut the curtains. I crawled onto the bed and fell asleep to haunting dreams of her beautiful face. Ingrid Lane, and the one true kiss we’d ever shared.

The End

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