I’ve fallen behind a little with 
This is the second part of the story. You can find the first part here:
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https://steemit.com/fiction/@mydivathings/day-363-365-days-of-writing-challenge
Photo by Alex D'Alessio on Unsplash
In gulps I took in the cold air, which lead to another bout of coughing. More blood. It wouldn't be long now.
Ben had pointed to the sign "Do not trespass. Danger!" But I had called him chicken. We climbed over the fence and I found an old brick which I used to break the window. We crawled into the house, which smelled of damp and dust.
I remember us pretending we'd found an old pirate's den, full of treasure I said.
"Let's see if we can find it!" Ben was reluctant to go up stairs, he said we should go home, mum would be worried. I told him he needed to grow a pair, but he said he wasn't sure why he should grow a pear, as he preferred apples and we laughed.
Then Ben went upstairs and there was a crashing sound and suddenly the upstairs was downstairs. The air was thick with dust and Ben hung amongst it, suspended from the ceiling, by one foot, his head and neck at an angle that was not right.
I knew he was dead, and I cried and cried and then I wondered what I would tell mum.
I was going to be in trouble.
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https://steemit.com/fiction/@mydivathings/day-364-365-days-of-writing-challenge
Photo by Paul Carmona on Unsplash
At first I had felt panic overwhelm me, like an ocean wave it engulfed me and threatened to drown me. And then I ran from the house. It was raining outside, and it wasn't long before I was soaked. I was hungry - turkey sandwiches in the bag that Ben had been carrying. I walked back, tears joining the rain water that flowed down my face. My mother was at the door, worried I guess that we'd been caught in the rain. When I saw her anxious face my tears became a flood and I bawled and she hugged me, covering me in kisses. "But where is Ben?" she asked anxiously, repeating the question over and over. I lied. I told her that when the storm came we were separated. That Ben had run off, I didn't know where. I'd looked for him, I told her. I couldn't find her. The police were called. And I told them the same story, when they came. A rather stern looking man, and a woman with a gentle face and a calming manner. They found him the next day. He must have broken in, they said. Seeking shelter, they said. Terrible accident. They said.
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https://steemit.com/fiction/@mydivathings/day-365-365-days-of-writing-challenge
Photo by Keisuke Higashio on Unsplash
I was in hospital. I was dying.
It was hot. Hot as the desert. My throat was dry, dry as sand.
Ben stood at the end of the bed. "Are you coming?" he asked. "Come on."
"I'm scared," I said, coughing up blood again. "Don't be a chicken," he said. "I did it. You can to."
"It was easy for you," I said. "You didn't see it coming."
He laughed and faded away.
The nurse asked if I was alright and administered some medication in the drip bag that hung beside me. Her name tag dangles in my face as she does so. “Mrs Davinia Plage,” it reads. Outside I can the sound of cars. I know the junction. It looks like the red cross that hangs above the hospital. Only it is black and white.
My mind rambles.
Poor Ben.
That is what people said for years after the accident. "Poor Ben. Why did he ignore the signs?"
The building was condemned. It was riddled with asbestos, they said. That's why it took so long to find him. They had to go in using breathing apparatus. Dust everywhere.
"You’ve got to be careful. You breath that in," I'd heard someone say. "You might get lung cancer."
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