Beep. Beep. Beep.

Holy shit…what the fuck is wrong with me?

I slowly come to realize that I am awake. I try to breathe in, but nothing happens. My whole body aches, but mostly my throat. My arms lay at my sides, but I can't find the strength to move them.

When my vision finally clears I look around the room: immaculate walls, flowery wallpaper and pleasant pictures on the walls, beeping machines. And Mark. Slumped in a chair in a corner, looking tired and drawn. He has his head leaning against the corner of the walls, and he is asleep, snoring quietly.

So this is how it ends, I guess. In a fucking hospital.

Even blinking seems to take too much energy. My eyelids are heavy. I gaze around the room some more. A respirator. I follow the cord connected to it…to myself. Protruding from my mouth. There's a giant thing sticking out of my mouth, with a tube passing through it. I move my tongue around and find another tube in there.

I couldn't speak even if I wanted to; there's a fucking tube shoved down my throat. God, it aches. Someone take it out…please…it hurts.

This is wrong. This isn't how it's supposed to be. No, no, no. Someone, help me.

I look down at my arms. They are laying palm-up to the ceiling. There's an IV drip tubed into my bicep and another clear tube in my wrist. After so many months of shoving needles into my arms and injecting heroin into my system, this is nothing new—but it makes my stomach turn just to look at them. And the numerous scars, everywhere.

God, look at them. That's horrible. What the fuck was wrong with me?

While my body may be dying, my brain is still alive. The sight of the scars makes me think.

April…

I close my eyes and see her face. The reddish, unruly hair, the black makeup, the gorgeous smile. I can't help but start to hear an internal dialogue within my feverish brain.

I loved her so much.

You did?

Of course I did. She was everything to me.

Everything…sex and drugs and rock n' roll. Everything, huh?

Shut up.

She did this to you. She killed you. Are you sure you loved her?

I open my eyes again and stare at the ceiling and listen to the beeping of the respirator. I hated the way my brain split itself like that.

I did love her. I did.

You loved her with your body. You never loved her with your soul. Not like you loved Mimi.

My eyes start to burn as tears well up in the corners. I try to blink them away, but it won't stop.

Don't think about Mimi, don't think about Mimi. I miss her. I wish she were here. Why isn't she here? Why'd she have to leave me, too?

The thought of that Christmas so long ago enters my brain. When she came back to me, half-dead…but she lived for me. For me.

Now I'd die for one more day…

Well, you are dying. And you don't get to have one more day. How can you die for one more day? Once you're dead, you're dead. No more days for you. It doesn't matter anyway. She's dead too, remember? And here you are. Stuck in this hospital bed barely alive, with no one.

Mark's here.

Mark's over there, sleeping. You'll die in a few minutes, and he probably won't even notice. Your time is up, Roger. Your time is up.

I feel tears start to slide slowly down my cheeks. They burn. My whole body is cold. I look over at Mark. He looks horrible. He always worried too much. Over me. What's there to worry about?

Everything, stupid. I always fucked it up, didn't I? And Mark was there to pick up the pieces. Always. Even the time I punched him because I was so pissed off that he wouldn't let me out of the loft for a hit. He just stood there and took it, and picked up the pieces of my life, the ones that I had so carelessly misplaced. Oh, Mark. I wish I had been better to you, I do. I really do. Please don't let me die without noticing me. Please Mark, wake up. I need you, I need you. Wake up, Mark.

There's no way to tell him that I was dying, that I need him. Not with this stupid fucking tube in my mouth.

Mark, you're my best friend. And I love you, you're my brother. Mark, please, wake up. I don't want to die alone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I ever fucked up.

I feel my heart start beating faster. The machine starts beeping at a faster pace.

No, no, no. Please, don't take me yet. I have to tell him. Mark, wake up. Come over here. I'm not out of time yet, please, give me more time.

I struggle to breathe. My crying had made my throat constrict and now I can barely bring in any air to my lungs. They start to burn. The beeping machine goes faster.

Mark, how can you not hear that? Come on Mark, wake up.

I feel weak, weaker than I have ever felt in my life, ever. This is how it's going to end. I can barely even open my eyes now. There's a weird feeling in my chest, like…like something trying to escape. I can't breathe. The machine is beeping like crazy now, but it seems…slower. It's in slow motion.

And the only thing I can think about is Mark.

I use every ounce of energy in my body to open my eyes. The room is spinning, but there's Mark. There's Mark. Standing by the bed. If I can feel anything in this moment, it's the sheerest, most blissful happiness.

Thank God, you're finally here. How long have you been there? Thank you, Mark. I didn't want to die alone. Take this tube out, I should tell you something. Don't cry, Mark. Please don't cry. I've made you cry too many times before.

He's crying too. I think he's saying something, but I can't hear it. My head is pounding. I can see his lips moving, in slow motion. Tears sliding ever so slowly down his pale cheeks.

I'm sorry, Mark. Sorry I'm leaving you. I wish I could tell you everything, I wish, I wish, I wish. I'm sorry I couldn't be better. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

My lungs are going to explode, I just know it. I stare up at Mark but I can't see him anymore; everything is white.

Then, for one brief and yet eternal moment, I hear nothing but the machine flat-lining.

That's all.