Kill him that is.
I.....I'm weak, I saw him there I was ready to killl him but.... I might aswell tell you.
I went in last night ready to act, there were few medical staff about to stop me, so would probably put it down to a machine failure, or electrical, Manic would die and I'd be free. So I went into his room to act, the green glow the monitor gave off put his face in a weird perspective, and the breathing thing wheezed, inflating and deflating his lungs, giving him air to live. I turned off the lung but the monitor still showed Manic's heartbeat steady, steadier than mine, them I took the pillow, I saw his chest going up and down, how, how could he have been breathing if he was brain dead, nothing should be working. I positioned myself as best I could near his head and was about to press down, when.
I felt a hand squeeze around my wrist, I barely stopped myself screaming, I looked at Manic's face, it was.. aware, full of that fierce intelligence, he put his finger to his lips. I couldn't have made a sound if I wanted to I was too confused and petrified about what he might do. He just tried to speak but he obviously lost his voice from lack of use, he signaled to a piece of paper and pen by his bed. He tried writing with more success, but it still looked like a child wrote the letters. Initially he drew what looked like a worm wrapped around a stick, I tried to show I didn't understand so he tried to write a word it looked like 'oatabtearer', I still looked at him in confusion so he tried to speak again. one letter at a time.
O, he rasped, A, there were voices somewhere, T, H, he shuddered a little, B, there were now hurried footsteps that sounded far off, R, E, they were getting closer, A,K, The voices sounded worried and Frantic, Manic kept his steady stare, E, R. He then slumped back on his bed as the door burst open, I hid the paper, I don't know why and just stared into space. The doctors hurried around injecting him with stuff, turning the machine back on. I can't believe I failed, I let my memories get the best of me.
When I saw his face all the times he'd saved me came back, all the wounds he's treated, the nights he's stayed up and kept watch on me the frost as he looked at me through a snowstorm, and a kid hid behind a door, in a cell made for the damned. I couldn't do it, But I must do better, because there is one more thing he has to do to save my life.