Author Notes: Thanks for the reviews, I hope you're enjoying the story and I hope you like this chapter...it is in penultimate one, the next chapter will be last as this story finally comes to a close. It's been an interesting one to write that's for sure, I can't wait to share the final chapter and hopefully you'll enjoy reading this one.
Disclaimer: I own Skins...if you believe that, you'll believe that I invented chocolate and own six aeroplanes. (I of course do not own Skins, boo hoo hoo.)
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Two pale eyelids cracked open before closing again, the eyes flickered, adjusting to the light in the room. Emily stood over the bed, staring into the two eyes that finally opened fully. There was a shared look of confusion as Freddie groaned.
"Katie?" he asked, staring her down, a wonderment over her presence.
"It's Emily," she informed him.
"Emily, what are you...?" he began to mutter, before noticing his surroundings. "Where am I?"
"Have you not woken up before now?" Emily gasped, before leaving him alone in search of a nurse.
After a while she was allowed to re-enter the room. She took tentative steps, moving closer, fearful of what he might say or do.
"I heard someone mistook me for a cow, don't think I'd taste very good though, do you?"
She tried to laugh at his joke, but she felt guilty. He had spent several days in a hospital bed with no recollection of the events that led to his hospitalisation. She was about to open her mouth, hoping to explain her side of what happened before anyone else did it for her, when the door opened and a small crowd entered.
"Shh JJ, its a hospital not a theme park, you shouldn't talk here," Katie warned, an annoyed tone in her voice.
"No, I'm pretty sure that's a library, in hospital you can talk as much as you like, especially in the psychiatric wards,"
"JJ, shut up, you're not talking you're shouting," Katie snapped, sending JJ into silence. He was the first to see them, to spot Emily perched on the edge of Freddie's bed waiting for the moment to tell him that she had created a whole host of problems. But Katie's high pitched voice interrupted.
"What the fuck are you doing in Freddie's hospital room? You're well out of line, this is a hospital, not somewhere to get rid of guilt, you wanna confess, go to a vicar," Katie snapped, speaking louder than usual.
"No shouting," JJ muttered, emulating her own request earlier, "And it's Priests that hold confessions, not Vicars."
"Whatever," Katie muttered, turning back to Emily with a raised eyebrow. "Are you gonna tell him what you did or shall I?"
"What are you talking about?" Freddie muttered, looking at all the faces staring back at him.
"Freddie, I have something to tell you," she began, tears forming in the back of her throat, "The night, when you...when Cook stabbed you, I saw it happen, but I didn't tell anyone,"
Freddie's expression turned from confused, to shocked all in the space of a few seconds. Emily waited in anticipation, Katie breathing down her neck, obviously waiting just as hard.
"Did you call an ambulance or did you leave me to die?" he asked.
"What does that matter?" Katie snapped, folding her arms across her chest in frustration.
Freddie ignored Katie, looking to Emily for an answer.
"I called an ambulance," she whispered, daring to look up at her friends.
"The doctor said that I nearly died," Freddie sighed, "If I'm not mistaken, Emily, you saved my life,"
"Saved your life?" Katie cried out, "She fucking left you for dead,"
"For once in your life Katie, shut your fucking mouth," Freddie shouted.
Emily wanted to laugh at her sister being put firmly in her place, instead she just smiled at Freddie.
"Thank you...for not hating me,"
"Nothing to hate you for Ems," he smiled, much to Katie's annoyance.
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The hard wooden panel they claimed was a bed was hard and uncomfortable beneath him. The edge dug into the backs of his knees as he sat waiting. He didn't know how long he had been sat there, or how long he would have to wait for something, or someone to appear. The light from the tiny window in the corner was fading quickly as the dark night forced it's way into his tiny cell. Cook looked around at the four walls; drab, grey and mostly uninviting. He wandered if the harsh conditions were part of the punishment of sitting in a police cell.
"When the fuck am I getting out of here?" he shouted out, hoping someone would hear him, frustration building up as he felt trapped in his own mind.
His punishment fit his crime. He knew it was his own actions that brought him to the cell, that put him in the police station in the first place. Cook felt a draft reach his lower arms and he regretted not wearing a jacket when he'd turned up at the hospital. He stood up and walked around the cell, running a finger along the cold walls; after barely a minute he'd reached his starting point. He lifted up his knees and began jogging on the spot, hoping to build up some natural warmth as he lifted his knees faster, pumping blood around his body.
No one came. No one replied to his shouting. He wondered if they had forgotten he was there, forgotten that he was sat in the cell freezing his arse off. A small light in the centre of the room flickered on as darkness finally took over.
"Fucking pigs," he mumbled, resting two hands against one of the walls and leaning there for a moment.
The pain and guilt he felt for Freddie had disappeared into oblivion. He didn't know where they'd gone or why they weren't inside of him anymore, but he was thankful. The constant feeling of sickness had gone, replaced with an emptiness that he knew he couldn't fill. Effy's eyes were still imprinted in the back of his mind as he remembered being dragged from the hospital room. She lied. She never wanted him. She didn't care about him. She had fucked him so that she could get him to go home. She had done everything, just to return to Freddie. The empty feeling was quickly replaced with anger, a deep thread of anger that ran through him, forcing it's way into every vein and artery, pumping around his body at top speed.
"FUCKING BITCH!" he screamed out, pulling back, before pushing both his fists into the concrete wall.
Another scream fell from his lips when his hands began to throb. He collapsed in a heap on the floor, his knuckles bleeding, his face covered in thick tears that wouldn't stop flowing. The anger he felt was melting away, flowing out of his body in the same way that the blood from his knuckles was running down his fingers to the floor.
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After what felt like eternity a pair of hands clasped around his shoulders, pulling him to his feet and pushing him back down on the cold, hard bed. He looked up, his eyes hollow, his body emptier than it had ever been. The man in front of him opened a case and started to fix up the wounds on his hands. He was talking, but Cook's mind was empty, his throat dry with dehydration and the pain in his hands was throbbing all over his body. A police officer stood in the doorway, watching the doctor fix him up, a stupid grin on his face. Cook glanced at the doctor, his dry throat cracked as he muttered something.
"I'm guilty,"
He found his full voice and a second wave of anger as he reached his hands out to the doctor, clasping his fingers around his shirt collar as he pushed the man away, pushed him until his back was against the concrete wall. Cook's eyes were wild as he stared into the man's frightened expression, his voice picking up volume as he screamed into the man's face.
"I'm fucking guilty, you know I'm fucking guilty so just get me out of this fucking cell,"
Hands reached around his waist, pulling him away from the frightened man cowering against the wall. He didn't know why he'd done it, he didn't know why he'd made things a million times worse, but as the doctor and police officer disappeared and he was left sat on the cold, hard bed once more, he wondered how he would survive years when he couldn't even handle hours.
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AN: Thanks for reading...you know what to do...if you don't, you need to press the button below this to leave a review and tell me what you thought of this story, constructive criticism is accepted, so go for it!
