A Waste of Time

Brett's whole body ached. His lungs burned with every breath, his heart was hammering against his ribs, and his legs felt like jelly. He kept running, though. He had to keep running.

What had started as a dull roar behind him had swelled to a deafening groan that vibrated through Brett's whole body. The trees around him were bending in the wind, leaves and branches stinging where they hit his body. All Brett wanted to do was stop running, catch his breath, crawl into a hole and cry, but he had to keep running.

Unfortunately, he was starting to slow down. He kept tripping and stumbling over the uneven ground, unable to see where he was going in the dark. He could have sworn there was a full moon tonight, but it was nowhere to be seen in between the thick roof of branches. He cursed under his breath. Where was he even going? He knew there was no outrunning the thing chasing him. It was gaining on him, gaining speed while he didn't know how much longer he could run. More times than Brett could count, he considered just stopping; turning and accepting his fate. Why are you running? The annoying voice in the back of his mind whispered.

For Corah, he reminded himself. I need to save Corah.

Focusing on thoughts of the girl he had loved since they were twelve, Brett forced himself to pump his legs harder. Everything around him seemed to slow down as he thought of her. Her crystalline blue eyes, her porcelain skin, her dimpled smiles. He loved her, had loved her for most of their lives, an he needed to save her.

You can't save somebody who doesn't want to be saved, the pessimistic voice whispered.

She does want to be saved, Brett insisted. She loves me. She doesn't want to go.

Subconsciously, he noticed that the roaring sound behind him faded. The wind calmed, the trees stilled, and the moon made its appearance. Brett still kept his pace, desperate to get to Corah. He needed to save her, to take her home. But where was she? Suddenly, Brett realized that he really didn't know where he was going. He didn't know where to find Corah, or even where to start. He didn't know where he was: Hadn't they been on their way to Corah's parent's house? They lived in the city, not near any woods. And what had that sound been?

Slowly, images flashed across his eyes. Being in the car with his girl, laughing and singing to her favorite songs. Her getting playfully upset when he'd purposefully sing terribly, or her joy when a certain song would come on. Those blue eyes of hers would light up and she'd sing along, word for word. He'd only taken his eyes off of the road for a second. He'd just wanted to soak in the look on her face.

He hadn't noticed when he'd crossed into oncoming traffic.

Tears streaked down Brett's face and his strides faltered.

You can't run forever, the voice told him. You'll have to stop eventually.

The voice was right, he knew, but how could he stop running? Corah's life was on the line, he had to get to her in time.

A sharp pain radiated through his side, but it was different from what he usually felt when he was running. It didn't feel like a stitch, but he refused to look down to investigate.

Wake up, Brett, the voice urged, louder now. You have to wake up.

No, Brett thought, I can't. I need to find Corah.

You can't, the voice seemed to cry out, getting desperate. You have to wake up. Stop running, Brett, stop running. You. Can't. Run. Forever.

It was almost like somebody had thrown freezing cold water over him, and he stopped running. Panting, he put his hands on his knees and tried to breathe normally, to catch his breath. The tidal wave of emotion he'd been running from crashed over him, and he could barely keep himself upright.

Wake up, Brett, the voice begged. You have to wake up.

"I can't," he whispered aloud. "I can't wake up. Corah needs me."

There's nothing you can do for her here. You have to wake up.

Brett didn't respond. How could he? He knew the voice was right, but how could he abandon Corah? She was so good, so sweet, so loving. He couldn't leave her behind... Right?

You can't save somebody if you're drowning.

The tears seemed to be falling faster, and Brett's heart was breaking, but he nodded with a heavy sigh. "Okay," he murmured, "okay."

Closing his eyes, Brett took a deep breath. He felt almost like he was falling asleep, and the next time he opened his eyes, he had to blink against the fluorescent lights.

"Brett?! Oh, my God, Brett!"

He tried to turn his head, but it made his neck throb. Wincing, he blinked a few times and focused his eyes on the woman standing over him.

"Hey, Doctor Greyson," Brett rasped. The woman rolled her gray eyes, identical to his.

"I'm your sister, Brett," she reminded him, "no need for the formalities."

Brett groaned; the ache he'd thought had been from running was affecting him here, too.

"Corah," he whispered.

Greyson's eyes went from worried but amused to a dark stormy sadness.

"Brett," his sister started, her voice catching. "She, um... She sustained some serious injuries in the crash-"

"I'm your brother, Grey," Brett whispered. "Not a normal patient."

His sister's face reddened slightly, tears shining in her eyes. "She's gone, Brett," she breathed. "She died in the crash."

Brett felt like he couldn't breathe. It was like somebody was sitting on his chest. "It's my fault," he gasped, tears stinging his eyes. "I killed her..."

Greyson looked at him in surprise. "Hey," she soothed, placing a hand on Brett's arm. "It wasn't your fault."

"I crossed into the other lane," he said hoarsely.

His sister shook her head, sympathy in her eyes. "No, B," she replied. "You didn't. The other driver did. He was driving drunk, he crossed into your lane. It wasn't your fault."

Brett stared at his sister in shock. "It wasn't me?" he whispered. "I didn't kill her?"

Grey shook her head again, her tears rolling down her cheeks. "No, B," she said again, her voice almost as rough as hers. "No, it wasn't your fault."

The emotional dam inside him broke. He sobbed like a baby, covering his face with bandaged hands. "Oh, my God," he cried. "Oh, God..."

Greyson sat on the edge of his bed and hugged him as gingerly as she could, careful to avoid his injured side.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered. "You're okay."

Brett thought of those blue eyes- the eyes he'd never see again.

"I don't think it will be."