Cullen- Thinking Of Her
CULLEN
"Get the fuck out." Mr Sullivan snapped.
I was turned into silence. What the hell did he mean?
His eyes narrowed at me, and I was just about to tell him to go fuck himself when Cyrus's hand landed on my shoulder. I turned toward him sharply, my chest heaving, but then my eyes met my dad’s across the room. He motioned toward the door.
I wanted to fight it... God, I wanted to fight it but Cyrus’s grip tightened, and I knew I had to let this go.
I swallowed hard and walked out, not sparing the Sullivan clan a single look.
I kept walking. Past the hallway, past the nurses' station, past the quiet sobs and the humming machines. I didn’t stop until I reached the doors that led to the stairs.
"Cullen," came my father’s voice behind me.
I stopped and turned.
He approached with Cyrus and my mom by his side. His face was tight, serious.
“We have to come up with a plan. A way to deal with this,” he said.
I just shook my head. “I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I just want to get the hell out of here,” I told him honestly.
“Now you listen to me....” he started, stern, stepping closer.
But then my mom touched his shoulder. Whatever silent conversation passed between them made him slump a little, his edge softening. He let out a breath, then said,
“Okay. Just go. We can do this tomorrow.”
I didn’t wait. Didn’t say anything else. I went to the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time, like maybe if I ran fast enough, I could outrun the guilt clawing at my chest. By the time I reached the bottom floor, I was sweaty, out of breath, tired but still full of the same hollow ache.
I stepped outside and sat on one of the cold metal chairs outside the hospital. The sky was beginning to lighten, the sun almost rising.
As I looked up, I thought, I didn’t deserve to see the sunrise. Not if Sarah doesn’t.
The guilt swelled, twisting deep inside me. It was as if I had pushed her into the pool myself. Had someone else pushed her? Was it an accident? Or… did she do it?
No. No way.
She was full of love. She laughed with her whole soul. She was light, even when I brought darkness. There was no way she would do that to herself. No way... But the drinking?
Goddamn it.
I stood up and made my way toward the parking lot before remembering, I didn’t have my car. I came in with the ambulance. And there was no way in hell I was going back upstairs to ask my father or Cyrus for keys.
So I did something I never thought I’d do. I walked to the bus stop and got on the first bus I saw. I didn’t ask where it was going. I just got in and sat down.
It went from one neighbourhood to another, round and round, as the city slowly came to life. I just sat there, letting the city blur past me like a dream I couldn’t wake up from.
Eventually, the air in the bus grew too heavy, too thick. I felt tired. Suffocated. So I made my way to the front to get off.
“You’ve been here a long time,” the bus driver said, eyeing me. “Looks like you had a lot on your mind. But it’s gonna cost you.”
I gave him a tired smile, opened my wallet, and pulled out a few bills—hundreds. Dropped them in the tray. Didn’t wait for change.
I stepped off the bus and realized I was downtown. The rough neighborhood. Just great.
I started walking the streets, getting looks from people around me. I was wearing a thousand-dollar suit. My watch alone could buy most of the buildings I passed. I screamed money, and the eyes around me noticed.
The neighbourhood looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight or hope in decades. Rusted fences. Broken glass. Buildings that leaned like they were tired of standing.
Eyes tracked me from every corner. From shadowed doorways. Cracked windows. One guy spat on the ground as I passed. Another muttered something under his breath. I didn’t catch it. Didn’t care.
And that’s how I ended up in an alley, face-to-face with three guys who thought they could point a gun at my head and make me hand over everything I had.
I turned the corner into a dead-end alley. Two guys stepped out from behind dumpsters like they’d been waiting just for me. Another appeared behind me, and just pulled a gun and levelled it at my chest.
“Well, well. Look what money dragged in,” One of them with a cigarette said, eyeing me.
“Wallet. Watch. And shoes,” one in a hoodie added. “Now.”
I raised both hands slowly, almost like I was cooperating. “You’re really doing this?” I asked, voice low, calm.
“Buddy, don’t try to be brave. We’re not scared of pretty boys in silk suits,” the one with the gun snapped, stepping closer.
And something in me snapped back.
All the guilt. The pain. The pressure in my chest I’d been carrying since I saw Sarah motionless on that bed, it all turned cold. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t even angry.
I just wanted to hit something.
So I did.
My hand shot forward, grabbed the wrist holding the gun, twisted it hard until he yelped. The weapon dropped. I kicked it away. Elbowed him in the throat. He stumbled back, gasping, and that’s when the other two moved in.
Fists flew. One caught me across the cheek, sharp, stinging but I barely flinched. My elbow cracked against a jaw. I ducked, turned, slammed someone into the wall.
Breathingheavilyy now. Suit torn. Blood on my lip.
They backed off.
“You picked the wrong fucking day,” I growled, stepping over the guy still coughing near the trash can.
One of them reached into his pocket for something, I wasn’t waiting to find out what. I lunged. We tackled. Fists flew. He groaned and crumpled.
And then… silence.
I looked around, my chest rising and falling. Three men down. Groaning. Spitting curses.
One of them had keys dangling from his belt loop. So I took them.
The car was a rust bucket, paint peeling, mirror hanging by a thread, smelled like smoke and failure but it started when I turned the key. That was enough.
I pulled out of that alley and I drove. All the way back to the only place I had left...Home.
Bloody, bruised, and exhausted but still alive. Still guilty.
Still thinking of her.
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