DAYS BEFORE NEW YEARS : 9

Casper?

Casper….

CASPER!

WAKE UP!

“HUFF! HUff… huff….” I breathe in and out, as if been dead for the past few minutes. The air was thick, stale, and bitter, tasting like metal and dust in my lungs.

“I thought you were dead…” I flinched as my head automatically snapped toward the voice that had spoken the very thought I hadn’t meant to say aloud.

Sammie’s locks got caught in the moonlight, like the stars reflecting the sun’s rays onto us. Reminding each night that whenever we feel lost, always look at the stars. They always make you feel at home, just like how Sammie is to me. His hair still smelled like outside, like fresh air mixed with the sharp sting of dirt and smoke. 

It didn’t fit the place. 

Didn’t fit us anymore. 

His hair was alive with that freshness, while the room felt... dead.

Until the gears in my brain started to get back to work on the statement he previously spoke.

I slowly lifted my upper half on my elbows in anticipation-

There was a bullet stuck in my abdomen.

Buried halfway into the side, the bullet sat, jagged, ugly, and with dried blood, lodged beneath torn skin and ruined bloody hospital fabric. Like a metal seed waiting to sprout rot, the surrounding flesh acted as the soil—pulsing dully, catching up to the shock that had been numbing my senses.

Sammie as if he read my mind for the second time, clamped down my mouth with his hands. And god, did they taste like blood.

My blood.

“Listen closely,” he whispered. “They are here…. Coby’s friends were here in this room….. a few minutes ago….. They were the ones who shot you.” He kept stealing glances behind the curtains, awaiting the madness to regain its momentum.

“They…. are monsters…” His hands lifted from my opened mouth, replacing it with a dry and hopefully clean towel. I felt his hands again, slowly helping me back to lie down on the bed. I could taste and smell my blood at the same just as how oxygen is abundant in our atmosphere.

Pretty cool…

No hospital….

No stars….

Just breeze….

The swimming pool-

“HMPH!” My teeth on reflex bit the towel down while I yanked my arms and legs against newly-tightened straps.

Since when did they get strapped on-

“OH MY GOD! SAMUEL! Hurry… now, gentle pressure on the wound with the clean towels you found.” I heard the speaker blabber the nagging tone of a very familiar person.

“Thalia! I was right— OH! HE’S WAKE!” With a flashlight strap on his head, he waved at me.

““Grnfh…..”” I mumbled against the towel.

The iconic ‘we already have it home’ aurora borealis, blinded my eyes to awake.

What felt like a blissful minute to me was a horrible hour for them to drag me back to this atrocious torture.

“Hey, pal! Ahh-ah I didn’t know what to do after you passed out. BUT! Then I realized that your wound stopped bleeding which was okay. BUT! Then it started to move, like as if like an alive organism.” He started to patch up or something, but it hurts so much that I wanted to boil someone.

I grunted at him to speed the hell up, which he did not take the hint.

”— BUT! Then I remembered about Thalia’s satphone number—” He removed the towel, finally letting the stored up salvia flow out, letting me breathe in big gulps.

“Buddy, I can’t keep up with your pacing….. Slow down, would ya?” I wheezed, blinking tears away in relief, before the sirens regain its power back online.

“Sammie… How did you get here?” I gently nudged his fingers, in the midst of his talk.

“Watcha’ mean by that?” He retorted.

“What I mean to say is …. Your parents aren’t the type to let you-”

That stopped his train of a mouth.

Bingo… but in a bad way.

“Sammie…. What happened to them? You can’t-”

“For once... shut up, Casper.”

His hands trembled.

Shaky breaths.

Eyes whose veins were ready to pop any second by now.

I know that pushing him away from me and closer to the edge, is not such of a good of an idea….. But it’s better than not to see human remains every night.

I switched up my tone from soft to rough, making sure that his heart would finally listen up and would stop making reckless and risky moves.

Just like me and Coby are doin’.

“You shouldn’t be here. Your parents are gonna be mad. Go back home—” Before I could even process my own words, the sting of his slap exploded across my cheek. 

My brain scrambled to catch up, but the damage was done. 

His eyes, furious with a hint of hurt, told me everything.

But by now, it's too late.

So, I closed my eyes for the incoming impacts.

SLAP!

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! YOU’RE DYING HERE AND A CLOSER TO DEATH, AND ALL YOU WANT IS ME TO GO BACK CRAWLING HOME? WHAT ARE YOU SOME FILTHY-ASS RICH KID ORDERING AND TREATING THEIR NERDY FRIEND AKA, ME, NO LESSER THAN A GODDAMN BUTLER? HELL YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME, AT LEAST, FOR PREVENTING YOU FROM HOSTING ANOTHER FUNERAL FOR YOU INSTEAD! “

SLAP!

“You know? Here I was planning my apology for punching you back in that funeral. Guess what? HERE YOU GO : My bad, I should have kicked you in your dick. Oh! WAIT A MINUTE! You're using that condescending debater bitchy voice again at what… four in the morning? So extra fucks for that, and I am taking back my shitty apology. Why? BECAUSE YOU DON’T EVEN DESERVE THE TRASHIEST OF THE TRASH! ”

Slap.

“You are…”

A sloppy slap.

“....are everyone that I have.”

He barked a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

The bed shuddered beneath me, the straps pressed against torn skin, dragging pain like claws. His words were just as sharp, cutting through the tension like glass shattering. 

I wanted to say something, but the truth was I didn’t have the strength. 

The pain in my side was rising, and it felt like the world was closing in around me.

Time stretched.

Pulled.

Until it finally let go.

The restraints slipped loose — falling apart like old rusty irons.

The cage cracked open.

And for the first time in what felt like forever,

I opened my eyes.

Slowly. Finally.

And the first thing I saw—

wasn’t Sammie.

It was the ceiling.

Plain. White. Quiet.

I think that’s what peace looks like, when you haven’t earned it yet.

But, Sammie didn’t say anything after to earn that yet also.

He just stood there — fists trembling, jaw locked, eyes red like a warning light that never turned green.

And me?

I just breathed.

For once.

Without screaming.

With silence, he gestured towards the bandage.

Right.

I almost forgot about it.

Just almost.

I straightened up slowly, with my hands on the now freshly cleaned wound, waiting for it to be bandaged up. With a couple of hisses, the hospital gown no longer matched the cynical white tiles with its dry redness, a constant reminder that no matter where we would go, the bloodshed would follow regardless.

“At 8pm, we got to know that there was gonna be an electricity shutdown for maintenance. A knock came after we were done with the dinner. Pa was the closest to the door, so he went to answer. My ma and I decided to take a peek at his UNO cards, just a glance. My mom giggles ended with a bang.”

He continued the gore he had to hear from the attic. In just a few minutes, his mom was able to grasp the situation before rushing upstairs to hide her son. In the end, his mother’s quick action resulted in her uncracked egg in the basket to be safe.

A family of three, reduced to one.

“They came over first to my place before coming to the hos-sipital…. Th-they… came to gi-ive us some mai-il and…. They shoo-ot m-my parent-ts.” He wiped his face with his sleeve — smearing snot and tears like some battle-scarred war paint.

“And guess what? They were here too… to finish up the job and cut up any loose ends.”

He laughed.

Ugly. Wet. Broke somewhere between his ribs and his heart.

I always thought being an only child was a luxury.

It meant I’d have everything.

No hand-me-downs. No sharing birthdays.

But when my sister died, I realized—

It came with a price tag : loneliness.

And I paid in full price.

No discount,

no stalls,

just full price.

As it turns out, loneliness is the only thing you don’t get to share.

It was thick.

Heavy.

Neither of us knew what to say. 

The weight of it pressed down on both of us, a suffocating pressure that lingered in the air.

And I hated it.

So what did I do next, to break the silence?

I hugged him.

I probably should’ve let go, but instead, I held him tighter.

Maybe he thought it was just another reflex. Maybe he thought I’d pull away, like always.

I bet he even expected me to return the favor, but when I pulled him in for a hug…..

Sammie froze. For a heartbeat, I thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Same for me.

I stayed. So, did he.

And in that stillness… I felt peace.

And I hoped, just for a second, that maybe Sammie did too.

I mean…. No pain, no gain?

Sure, I didn’t return the favor of slapping him right away, that's for another day, but right now…

Sammie needs everything I can give it to him.

It’s not about me anymore. And that excruciating pain in my abdomen.

It’s about us. And we can all forget about me being depresso.

Because right now : it’s about time we get our shit sorted out.

I pulled away to see the familiar crybaby again.

The tears, the red eyes, the same old crybaby expression.

It felt like home.

Haven’t felt in that way for a long time. In a really long time.

“Are you cheating on me?” I got pushed away from my own initiated hug.

“No-oo-oo! Why would I, Thalia?” Sammie squawked, limbs flailing like a caught-in-the-act sitcom dad.

Both of us were shock to see a fully geared up Thalia and her boots clicked on the tiles at the entrance, each step loud against the silence.

 There was something about the rhythm of it—

click, click, click

—that made it feel like the world was moving around us, but we were stuck. 

We didn’t know if we were running out of time or running into something worse.

Thalia stood there—fully geared up, puffed-up jacket zipped high, a pocket knife glinting in one hand like a threat disguised as a fashion statement.

Honestly? She looked ready to lead a resistance movement and a Pinterest board at the same time.

Thank god we had a national fencing champion in our arsenal.

Speaking of arsenal, she catapulted a duffel bag at the crybaby, thanking god once again for not letting her launch the bag at me.

“Both of you seriously need to wash up. Since the washroom was working on our call, it best if you two get to freshen up. I mean look at yourself.” Her hand flopped in speechlessness as I can’t help but feel embarrassed in my rubber-ducky theme underpants.

She tried to wave her hand, vaguely, at the state of us, like words just weren’t enough.

My cheeks started to brighten up as Sammie somehow caught on and could barely hold his laugh. He looked one breath away from bursting into laughter—or tears. Or both.

So I did what I had to.

I promptly snagged a bright orange shirt with the ‘NIKE’s logo and a pair of loose trousers ahead. Then, I pushed and ushered Sammie with those to go to wash up. With a defeated look, he finally closed the door to the in-room washroom, betting that it would take him at least thirty minutes tops to finish up.

I mean,,, he looked like he bathed in blood…. Quite literally.

With the duffel bag now on my lap and the running tap sound coming from the washroom, I finally turned to Thalia.

Time for the talk.

“What happened while I was out in the cold?” I pointed to the spared bed diagonally to mine for her to sit.

Thalia walked over, gave it a quick inspection like it might explode, then plopped down with a bounce that squeaked through the silence.

“It’s a long tale,” she said, stretching her legs out. “Best if you don’t interrupt me. Or else—” She nonchalantly raised her pocket knife and drew it across her neck in a mock ‘I’ll end you’ gesture.

“Hahaha, funny. I promise I won’t.” I snorted in remark, to which I got a try-me-look from her. 

I sighned and showed my pinky finger.

So did she.

We both made a pinky promise.

Now, with that out the way, she began.