“I need to go see him,” I told Simon, and sprinted off, ran as fast as I could.
When I got home, I swung the door open and called out to my dad. “I need to go to the hospital.”
The expression on his face said it all. He knew. Everyone probably knew.
As much as he hated Gavin, he seemed genuinely upset. He grabbed his keys off the hook by the door. “Let’s go.”
It was the longest ride of my life. The radio chatter assaulted my ears, and my pulse raced all the way there. I jumped out of my dad’s truck before he even had a chance to park it. I ran to the emergency, and talked to the first receptionist I could get a hold of. I asked about Gavin Foster, beaten and brought in by ambulance. Her face fell instantly. She told me he was in surgery.
Complete desperation hit me. I’d never believed in God, but I pleaded with him then.Please, let Gavin be okay.
I sank into one of the chairs in the waiting area. A little boy was playing with a yellow Tonka truck at my feet. I watched him as tears slid down my cheeks. I’d imagined having a little boy just like him with Gavin, and a little girl too. They both had Gavin’s dark locks and kind brown eyes. Just like this boy.
I sobbed into my hands, and the woman next to me, the boy’s mom, pressed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t speak. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. I knew Gavin was gone.
He died that night.
The details of his death and previous events trickled in over the following days. He’d been attacked earlier in the day, right in his own backyard, in bright daylight, in front of everyone. He’d received a bad blow to the head. He’d fallen unconscious, and when neighbors came to his aid, they managed to bring him back. His ear was bleeding, according to Mrs. Harris, but he’d told everyone he was okay. Only later, did he come out of his place, disoriented, seeking help. My dad came to his aid. He fainted in his arms. That’s when my dad called the ambulance.
Gavin died from intracranial bleeding. The surgeons tried to get in to stop the bleeding, but didn’t get to him on time. If only he’d agreed to go to the hospital straight away when Mrs. Harris suggested it, he might have lived. But that was Gavin for you, stoic and stubborn as hell.
I cried all night. And the next day. And the day following. I couldn’t eat, could barely breathe. My dad and brothers worried for me. Nick told me I could die if I didn’t eat something.
I hoped he was right.
I desperately wanted to die too.
