Song is "Mad World" my favorite remake of the Tears for Fears rendition.

Warning*** we are not out of the woods yet lovelies with the sad stuff and you are forewarned.

My mother grasped my arm, tethering me to that spot. "Sebastian, I can't. I don't--"

The monitor's alarm buzzing a shrill monotone cut her off. A mixture of a few nurses and another doctor dashed to Shelby's aid.

They started chest compressions, and I had to look away. It was too much. All of it was too much.

"Mom, please?" My voice caught in the back of my throat.

Other hospital personnel scattered about as two paramedics ushered in a gurney with another person in need of help. Mason and Luke peeked their heads into the hallway to see the flurry of activity.

"What is happening?" I heard Luke ask.

I couldn't find the words to speak. The lump in my throat saw to that. Instead, I stared at my mother, hoping the weight of everything would vanish.

My legs wanted to give way as I watched the doctor placing the paddles to revive Shelby, my Shelby, on her chest.

He called, "Clear." There was a muffled oomph noise as her little body bounced on the table. He gazed at the monitor, waiting to see if it helped. If it made a difference.

There was no change.

I stumbled to the side once the ground seemed to move beneath me. The room spun, and I couldn't catch my breath. It was far too hot, and there was nothing more to keep me here anyway. Turning as fast as I could without throwing myself even more off balance, I started down the hallway toward the exit.

It was a little hard to discern, but I swore my mom told me to "go to the waiting room until Robin arrives," at some point.

A simple head bow was the only response I mustered. I was already rushing as quickly as my weary legs would carry me.

My movements, unsteady, only progressed by using the wall as a mediary support. A few people walked past, a couple brushing into my arm and murmuring their incoherent words. I needed fresh air. To breath something other than the over processed air wafting through the vents to mask the awful stench of this place.

Luckily someone opened the closed door as I needed to make my way through. My eyes stayed peeled to the floor, counting my long strides until the automatic double doors parted and a gust of damp, chilly wind welcomed me. Once outside the main entrance, I breathed deep enough to fill my lungs. Only it caused me to gag on the bile at the back of my throat. I doubled over and made it just in time to a row of nearby bushes before vomiting.

"Are you all right?" a male voice asked. It sounded familiar enough that I turned to the source.

"Ummm." I cleared my throat a couple of times, trying to rid the hoarseness. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Are you, Sebastian?" he asked and stopped moving once his feet hit the edge of the sidewalk.

I stood straight, trying to find my bearings. Only that awful clenching in my stomach meant another wave of nausea could strike at any moment. "Yes."

The man, in his mid to late forties by the look of it, rubbed his hands down his face. "I don't know if you remember me. But I'm Chris Ryan. Kyle and Shelby's uncle."

Shit. That explained the puffiness to his eyes along with the blotchy red streaks to his cheeks. Chris must have received a call letting him know about the accident and Tom and Tonya and Kyle and...

My heart wanted to put a wall up for the duration to curtail any more pain. And discussing the situation wouldn't help.

"Oh. Umm. I," I stammered while bolting from behind the line of bushes. Where was I supposed to go? Back inside? No way that was going to happen. They couldn't pay me enough money ever to step foot back inside that place willingly. It wasn't like I could just stay out here, though.

Chris gawked at me like I was some deranged person in need of some desperate help. There were no words, or I didn't know the right ones to say. At least not now. Not when I wasn't coherent enough to rationalize what to do next. Except to run and retreat.

I stayed silent with my head bowed and darted across the parking lot in the misting rain to my truck. After fumbling with the keys and slamming the door shut, I scrambled to find a pack of gum. I checked the dashboard, empty. Above the visor where I usually kept a pack, empty. Glove compartment, nothing. Finally, I opened the middle console and found an old battered lone piece.

My fingers ripped the wrapper off in record time, and I closed my eyes once the gum hit my tongue, savoring the minty taste. For a second, I cleared my mind, welcoming my routine. The ten quick chewing movements relaxed and stretched my jaw which led to the pressure in my head immediately subsiding. For just as long, I pretended none of this was real. Just some hellish nightmare I needed to wake from tomorrow morning.

"Ahhh," I sighed and gazed into the rearview mirror. The person staring back at me appeared lost. Broken. Affected. I looked like a ghost with my pale skin and eyes a few shades darker than the usual. I looked like I was dead. I looked like--my mind stopped as the rage inside of me compounded exponentially to the point of no return.

Why them?

Why did this have to happen?

Why?

I knocked my head into the headrest behind me. Once. Twice. Over and over this continued as my eyes remained locked in the mirror. It didn't take too long before I couldn't take it anymore. I screamed and tore off that damn mirror, throwing it to the passenger's side of the cab. It hit the glass with enough force that it cracked the window. I didn't care. I didn't want to care about anything anymore.

It hurt too damn much otherwise.

But not seeing the pain didn't erase it. It only made it worse. I slowly rocked back and forth in the seat while my hands tugged and pulled at my hair. Wrought with anger, this sharp ache inside of me wouldn't stop and needed a release. My heart throbbed, my pulse raced. The sweat forming and collecting at my brow dropped to my cheeks. Or was it tears? I wasn't sure.

The sensation to hurt something, anything, continued until I thought I would surely break otherwise. My hand instinctively formed a fist, and I began punching. Again and again, and again, I hit the leather surface until the horn of the steering wheel stayed on, blaring and caught the attention of a few passers-by.

Pulling back my right hand, I inspected the damage while the harsh noise rang in my ears. The skin across my knuckles was swollen and bloodied. Only there was nothing. Just a void.

The overwhelming emotions I held inside controlled everything, but it had to stop. And I knew how.

It wouldn't last long. But all I needed was a reprieve. Even if just for tonight.

The horn still bellowed to the point that it garnered everyone's attention. They exited their cars on the parking lot while I drove off and didn't bother looking back once.

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https://www.wattpad.com/story/110772104-the-blood-reader