People always say that their loved ones aren’t the same people when they drink, do drugs, get angry, etc.  And for the longest time, I always thought those people simply couldn’t handle the truth about the people they thought they knew.  After all, it’s been said that alcohol makes you less inhibited – therefore leading you to express things you normally wouldn’t were it not for some liquid courage.  However, following the shouting that ensued after Will finally came to, I realized the Will I knew was no more.

“He’s asking for you,” blue scrubs informed me, lending her hand for support.

As she led me down the hallway to Will’s room, I crossed paths with Mrs. Hawthorne who, despite her tears, looked even more flawless than she did moments ago.  I caught her eyes as blue scrubs brought me closer and searched my brain for something meaningful to say.  But before I had the chance, she came towards me and simply said, “Take care of my boy.  He doesn’t need me now…” and  walked down the hallway.

He looked the same – maybe a little paler – and sounded the same.  Were it not for our hospital surroundings I’m not sure I would know what brought us here.

“Hey,” I sighed, sitting on his bed, putting my hand over his.  “You know, if you didn’t want Thai you could have just said so.”

There was nothing – no laugh, no smirk, no recognition of my inability to deal with emotionally stressful situations.  All that remained was his body, my body, and the harsh truth that nothing would ever be the same.



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