Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“You like to be on the lake?”
Her eyes opened. And she smiled, ruining me. “Yes…especially in summer.” I nodded my head. “In a…boat.”
I held her hand. “When you’re better, we’ll do it.”
She smiled wider. “Yes.”
Bonnie’s eyes closed, and with my music still playing beside her, on repeat, she fell asleep. I stayed beside her until night fell. When Bonnie still didn’t wake, I kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” I got off the bed and walked to the door.
Bonnie’s mum stood by the doorway. She smiled at me. “That was beautiful, Cromwell. The music you played for her.”
I ran my hand around the back of my head. “Thank you.” I didn’t want to ask. I couldn’t take it if it was bad, but I asked anyway. “How long have we got?”
Mrs. Farraday stared at her daughter on her bed, listening to the music I’d composed for her. “I was just speaking to Clara. She thinks it’ll only be a few more weeks, maybe a month, before she’ll have to be in the hospital.” Mrs. Farraday’s eyes watered. “After that…” She didn’t finish that sentence. I didn’t need her to. Because after that, the time we had was only as long as Bonnie’s heart could hold out.
“She’ll get one,” I said, and Mrs. Farraday nodded.
“She’ll get one.”
I drove toward home, but I found myself driving in the direction of the clearing Easton had taken me to. I came here most days. Sometimes Easton came too. I pulled my truck to a stop and sat on the grass overlooking the lake. The same canoeist I saw every time was here. The one I believed didn’t sleep at night either. Needed physical exercise to exorcise his demons. And at the dock to the right sat a small boat. It’s like being on the lake…
I stared at the moon and its reflection on the water. And I found myself doing something I’d never done before. I prayed. I prayed to a God I’d never spoken to before. But one I was sure had brought Bonnie into my life for a reason. And I had to believe that it wasn’t to help me through this, through my rejection of music, only to lose her at the end, knowing she owned my heart as much as the failure owned hers. Completely and irreversibly.
I sat watching the canoeist in the distance until he rowed out of sight into the dark distance beyond. I got to my feet and drove back to the dorms. The place was quiet as I walked to our door. The room was dark inside. I flicked on the light and stopped dead as the smell of paint smacked me in the face.
Black and gray paint had been smeared on all the walls. Easton’s posters had been ripped down, the remnants lying on the bed. I stepped further into the room. What the hell had happened?
And then I saw a pair of feet around the side of the wardrobe. I stepped closer, a deep thud starting to slam into my chest.
Then I saw blood.
I moved quickly around the corner. The wind was knocked from my chest and the blood drained from my face as I saw Easton sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall, blood seeping from slashes in his wrists.
“Shit!” I dropped to the floor and covered his wrists with my hand. Warm blood coated my palms. I looked about the room, not knowing what to do. I ran to my bed and pulled off the sheet. I ripped it into strips and tied them around Easton’s cuts.
I fumbled for my phone and called 911. “Ambulance,” I said, my words rushed and panicked. “My friend has slit his wrists.”
“Is he breathing?” I saw he wasn’t unconscious yet. His chest was moving up and down. His eyes rolled around.
I moved my hand to his neck. “He has a weak pulse.” I gave them the address and dropped my phone. I held Easton in my arms, wrists held up in my hands. “Easton, what the fuck?” I whispered in his ear. My voice was hoarse with devastation. He lost consciousness just as I heard the ambulance sirens outside.
The paramedics burst into the room and took him from me. I stood and watched, feeling like I was seeing the scene from outside of my body as they got him on a gurney and rushed him from the room. I didn’t think; I just ran with them. I rode in the back of the ambulance as they worked on him. And when they burst into the emergency room and through a set of doors I wasn’t allowed to go through, I stood in the waiting room, with dozens of eyes set on me.
My hands shook. I looked down; I had blood all over my hands and shirt. I walked out of the doors and into the night air. My hands were still shaking as I took my phone from my pocket, shaking even harder when I brought up Mrs. Farraday’s name and pressed call.