Page 12 of See Through

There has only been one other time in my life I’ve been as panicked as I am right now, and that was when my brother died.

I can't believe I stayed outside for so long. How long was he like this before I ran in and found him on the floor? He was barely breathing, his skin pale and sweaty, how mine was before he got me out of there. I called an ambulance, tried to drag him away from the operating room and the building, but I didn’t get far, because not only is he an entire foot taller than me, but he also works out on the regular.

Now, he’s lying in a hospital bed in an emergency room much like the one we were just investigating, and it’s all my fault. The worst part is, he got scratched too. Three long lines right down his back, hot to the touch. If Dean was awake, I would have made a joke about his favorite superhero, but all I cared about was getting him help.

I didn’t expect tonight to go as it did. I was excited to edit all the footage we got and splice it all together, but I can’t think about that right now. My head is spinning as I look at my best friend.

The doctors who treated him said he was severely dehydrated, his blood sugar was low, and they thought he might have passed out due to stress or something. I wasn’t really listening when they came in. All I could focus on was him in the hospital bed in front of me.

I did this to him, and I don’t even know how I got here. I remember finding him and them loading him into the ambulance. I remember grabbing our cameras and everything from the building and loading it into his truck. Thank goodness I grabbed his keys before they took him.

I don’t remember driving here or coming to the room they put him in. It’s a big blur, because all I can focus on is the fact that this is all my fault.

Maybe my parents are right. Maybe this isn’t what I should be doing with my life.

Even so, as I write down a recap of the investigation, I can’t help but feel guilty. I didn’t tell him I was bringing the scalpel. I didn’t tell him I was trying something different tonight, and look where that got us.

After every investigation, Dean and I always do this together—recap the night with an entry in my journal. We write down any voices, noises, and anything else we heard, from memory and as we go through the footage. Doing it by myself feels wrong, but my brain needed a distraction, and there’s nothing more distracting than feeling the familiar leather of my journal I’ve had for years. Some of these entries even date back to when Adrian and I would investigate our childhood home—the one he would later die in.

Focus on the entry, Aubrey. This isn’t time for a pity party.

“Aubs?”

I wipe the tears from my eyes before I scooch my chair forward, grabbing his hand. “Dean?”

“Where am I?”

“The hospital.” I press the button on his bed to call for a nurse. “You passed out while you were grabbing our equipment.”

“I did?”

“How are we feeling in here?” the nurse asks as he walks in. “How’s your pain level?”

“I’m not in pain. Just a little weak.”

“That’s normal.” He types on the computer by his bed. “We did a head CT to check there was no bleeding in your brain, and that came out all clear. We’re giving you fluids, and your girlfriend here has agreed to watch you overnight.”

“Oh, I’m not⁠—”

“She’s the best.” Dean smirks. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” is all I can manage. My heart rate is beating how it was when I found him, and I’m all too aware of his hand in mine. I can feel the callouses on his palm from holding the camera, and his hands are weirdly dry. Probably from all the hand sanitizer he uses at work.

“We’ll check on you again in an hour and once you’re a little stronger, you’re good to go.”

“Thank you so much,” I say as he leaves the room, and Dean and I are alone again.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me your girlfriend.”

“Am I wrong? You’re my friend, and you happen to be a girl.” He lazily waves his arms around. “Girl friend.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs, a stupid smirk on his face.