Madness

Chapter 58

~To love is to burn, to be on fire.~

I woke up a short time later in a groggy state and watched as the purple of the horizon grew clearer and clearer. I took off a black jacket, confused, not understanding what had happened or whose jacket it was. I gasped when I heard a voice right behind me.

"Take it easy, you didn't get much sleep, maybe a few hours!"

When I saw Steve in front of me, I immediately had a flashback of what had happened a few hours earlier. I sat up straight, slowly feeling my head start to pound as I settled down more comfortably. I could feel my eyelashes sticking together from the melting of my mascara from the rain. As he sat down next to me, I looked into Steve's eyes, which were circled in black.

"Is he out?"

"No, not yet."

"And Maat? Have they found her at least?"

"No, unfortunately, they are still in search of her. The car rolled for several meters, destroying itself more and more, by the time I saw it, it didn't even look like a car anymore."

"Did it make it to the beach?"

"Not all the pieces."

This news sent a shiver down my spine and only added to my dissatisfaction as we waited in silence for the end of the surgery. After about three more hours, the surgeon emerged from the operating room. He was followed by some of his staff and John, while others carried Douglas out of our lives. The doctor, quickly surrounded by the two of us, came toward us as he took off his mask and latex gloves.

"How is he?"

"The head injury was quite extensive, and the pulmonary edema is not helping his condition at all."

"But can we see him?"

"Yes, miss, but... he's in a coma!"

I was on my way to the intensive care unit and stood in front of the door of the room. I sighed as I still had my hand on the handle of the door, trying to find the courage to open it. When I finally found it, I felt sick to my stomach to see him lying helplessly in that hospital bed. I shivered as I saw the tube attached to his chest draining blood and felt my legs give out slightly. Several other tubes were connected to him. A machine was scanning his heartbeat, the only thing that made it clear that he was alive. His head was wrapped in white bandages, lightly stained with red, and the various scratches and cuts adorned his face. It was strange to see him like that, the way he usually was: active, energetic, dynamic, lying there as if he were asleep. It hurt to see him so helpless, like his grandmother. It was hard to see him lying there without his usual appearance, both of them were born to dazzle, it was as if they no longer had their light. The grandmother, who always fought like a tiger, looked more like a fluffy kitten at that moment, he was no less. Looking so frail and thin, he seemed to be ready to... die. At that thought, I took a shuddering breath to fight back the tears that were about to break out. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. I didn't notice or care about Steve's presence. I didn't want to see anything or anyone else at that moment.

"It's strange to see him so, usually my brother doesn't even lie down to sleep."

"When I fell asleep next to him, he would always read a book until late and smoke a cigarette. The next morning, he would be up after taking a shower."

"It was never easy for him to sleep, he had nightmares ever since he was a child." I looked at his swollen eyes and saw in them the ghost of something very different from hatred: envy. "If he does not survive my father..." he sat down in one of the small chairs in the room, started to rock and began to speak, addressing himself more than me. "You know, for many people their destiny is written by the stars, for others it is written by their parents. I did everything in my power to be an impress to my father: I followed in his footsteps, I went to the same university as he did, I worked with him, and yet... compared to Douglas, I am not considered. I was never better than Douglas! Even when we went to high school, he was the popular one, full of friends. I admit with shame that I would have liked to have seen him in the miserable state he was in in middle school. I remember every afternoon I would study until late at night and return in the morning after spending the night with some girl or friend. He would go all day without opening a book, and yet he was averaging higher than me. At dinner, my father would praise his talents and I would feel no reaction from him, but instead my blood would boil. All the attention was on him, every girl I ever had chose him... it was as if I was... the spare tire, the second choice. I often wanted him to die, and I am so ashamed!"