It's funny how one second you're over the moon with happiness, all it takes is a second for all that happiness to be stolen from you.

I feel nothing...

I feel numb like I'm somehow not connected to this world, anymore.

I feel like the universe is laughing at me, wanting to see me drop down onto my knees and surrender.

I'm constantly getting thrown into thunderstorms that get harder and harder to fight each time.

I don't know what I'm going to do.

Without him, I'm nothing.

Just a body with no soul and no meaning.

Just a beating heart but with no blood pumping through giving me hope, giving me life.

I want to scream at God and ask him why he's doing this to me?

What did I do to deserve this?

A knock on the door drifts me away from my thoughts, "Can I come in?" he says softly.

I nod, not looking up and still keeping my gaze on the floor.

Footsteps appear in my line of vision, my chin is gripped softly and pulled up to meet his gaze, "Everything is going to be fine, we're going to get through this."

You might, but I won't.

This is like the last tick... when is my heart finally going to stop beating because of heartbreak?

"I don't think so," I whisper as tears run down my face, I feel one land on my upper quivering lip, I lick it with a grimace at the saltiness.

"Don't say that hey, look at me."

No, I don't want to look at anyone in the eye, I can't.

Muttering up the courage I say through my body's sobs, "I want, and need to be alone right now."

He frowns, "I'll be right outside when you want to talk."

I nod unable to find words, glancing at the palms of my hands and seeing red and puffy half-moons indents in my skin.

"Why?" I choke out, "Why me?"

"Miss, are you Lola Wilston?" A doctor with blonde hair and glasses steps into the room with a clipboard in his hand.

I slowly stand up, my muscles winching due to the sudden movement, "Yes that's me," I shake his extending hand.

"You can call me Grant, I'll be the doctor tending to this case."

I nod and wrap my arms around my torso.

Grant sits in a rolly chair in the corner of the room and stares at me fiercely, "Have you've been checked out yet?"

No, and I don't intend to leave this room.

"No, I don't need to," when he starts to speak up I interrupt, "I'm not the problem here."

He clears his throat, pushes his glasses up on his nose before looking down at his clipboard balancing on his lap.

"Would you like to tell me what happened? It would help me out a lot."

No, I don't want to, I'm afraid that I'm going to pass out from a panic attack.

"I don't want to," I choke out grabbing my face between my hands and feeling the sticky liquid of my tears coat my cheeks.

He nods, handing me a tissue, "Try telling me as much as you can."

"I was going into work. He was walking with me, I don't remember a lot because I spaced out due to panic," I hoarse out, "All I remember is hearing shouts, gunshots, tire screeching, and finding him on the floor."

"He protected you, am I correct?" he asks.

I whisper, "I think so?"

"What do you think?"

"I was pushed out of the way by him, I flew through a store glass window display. I remember looking up and seeing his lifeless body sprawled on the cement sidewalk."

"Okay," he whispers writing fiercely down on a notepad, "Thank you for telling me honey, I know it was hard, but this information will help a lot."

I whisper the question that's been haunting me since I got here today, "Is he going to be okay?"

He sighs and takes his glasses off and places them on the table beside him. "I'm going to be brutally honest with you, it doesn't look good. He got shot centimetres short from his heart, and not to mention a blow to the head with a bat is going to cause long term damage."

"We got the bullet out of his chest, saving him just in time if we wasted only a minute more his heart would have stopped beating. We gave him two bags of blood that he needed, and other necessary things to him that you wouldn't understand," I frown.

"Doctor language," He explains with a wave of his hand.

I nod unable to find words.

"But his head is another problem, due to where he got hit at the back of his head, he could have memory loss or bad eyesight, but we have to see if, and when he wakes up from his coma."

Coma... the person that I can't live without is in a dreamless sleep for who knows long.

And I'm sitting here alive, when it should have been me.

The gun was pointed at my chest, the trigger was pulled to hit me directly, but the stupid bastard had to push me out of the way.

"I'll leave you to sock in the information I just gave you, please take some medicine and eat something from the food court downstairs." He says with a small smile while walking out of the hospital room, leaving me again in my thoughts.

Looking over to the hospital bed in drought I follow the lines of needles in his skin, the oxygen mask over his mouth, and his sickly white skin with blotches of blood that stains the skin underneath.

Their who lies in the hospital bed, looking like death is my best friend Mark.

Mark my best friend who I've known my whole life.

Mark who stayed by my side for a whole two months after Chase's death.

Mark who calls me every day asking how my day was.

Mark is the only person that loved me unconditionally, who loved every single cell in my body.

He even loved my flaws.

The person who's been my father figure, my brother, and best friend is now lying on a hospital bed because of me.

"Can I come in now?" Chris asks from the door.

I nod, not taking my eyes off of Mark.

He wraps his arms around my waist and places his face in my neck, "What did the doctor say?"

"He's in a coma, he can have eyesight and memory loss problems, he lost a lot of blood and the bullet was centimeters away from his heart."

He stills and turns me around to face him, "I'm not going to ask if your okay because I know you aren't, I'll just sit here with you and hold you." he says as he pulls me to sit on his lap, I cry for hours on end, wishing it was me instead on that bed.

Mark's body that looks so lifeless in front of me was the last thing I saw when I passed out from exhaustion on Chris' lap.

"You got this butterfly," was the last thing I heard Chris mummer in my ear while stroking my head with his hand while placing a loving kiss on my forehead.

I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!!

I know we all love Mark, but tell me what you think!

Do you guys like the new cover?

Let me know if there's mistakes.

I would appreciate if you would tell your followers to read my book and to tell their followers to read my book as well.

Peace out, till tomorrow...

Xoxo, Lexi