Chapter 10- Jumped

A big/little announcement: the Pages document where I write all of these stories has reached 100 pages. A 100 pages! Look what you guys have accomplished! I have never written anything this long, but I'm still loving every second of it and cannot wait to go another 100. Now, this chapter's prompt comes from a kind and awesome reader named Floopdeedoopdee.

Floopdeedoopdee: "A couple of suspects get the jump on Jay and beat the crap out of him. He's alone for a bit and in a serious amount of pain trying to get to the team as they look for him. He's conscious most of the time so we get to experience how much pain he is in."

While reading this, I was immediately reminded of a Ryan Reynolds movie called Buried. It's a perfect title because the whole movie is about watching Ryan Reynold's character stuck in a box, buried underground. You're seeing things in a first person view and it's truly terrifying. All feelings and events are captured as if you were him. So for this chapter, we will be seeing things in a first person perspective. This is something I have never done so please forgive me if this doesn't turn out. Are you guys ready? Let's do this.

I felt like I was standing on the shores of Briny Beach, waiting for Mr. Poe to deliver a terrible report of an extremely unfortunate event. Please don't ask how I know about Briny Beach or Mr. Poe or A Series of Unfortunate Events. It was a desperate, middle of the night movie selection during a rough bout of insomnia. But I find that opening scene to be the perfect description for my current predicament.

First, it is the dead of January. Nothing is open along the North Avenue Beach. Beach chairs are tucked deep in their storage sheds while restaurants, life guard stations, and other odd structures are boarded up for the season. Against the wind, their shutters creak and groan, as if to be on their final leg of existence. Another swift, stout blow will be the one to take them down. The other weird thing is that everything is covered in snow or ice. Imagine your favorite beach covered in snow. Now imagine waking on that beach, sand mixed with snow and ice is crunching under your feet. It's an odd sensation and you just have to experience it to get it. I'm standing near the shoreline, looking out into the infinite blue horizon. There are pockets of ice floating on the top layer of the lake but further out, calm waves are coming towards the coastline.

Second, I feel as if I'm in the final moments. Just like those aged, moaning buildings I feel as if I'm a touch away from going under, completely disconnecting with the world. Literally, every inch of me is in pain. A good headache started not long after the unfortunate event and my insides feel to be inflamed or burst. It was a chore getting to this spot, but my determination and adrenaline saw me through. I feel this is a great place to let go. You're standing on the edge of the city, the state, perhaps the whole world. In this secluded, deserted location, the end seems to have come and gone, leaving you to deal with the aftermath. Before I know it, my emotions decide to come out. Tears are silently streaming down my face. I don't lose my focus of the water, but it becomes blurred against the waterworks I'm producing. It's beautiful and scary and poetic. I'm at an edge, deciding if it's time to jump in to the other realm or stay put. But, you're probably wondering why I'm here and what drove me to this life and death dilemma. I think it's best if we start from the top.

…

Two Hours Ago

Everything was going normal that morning. I pulled into my usual parking spot and did the same jog up the Intelligence steps. Hailey was running late that morning but everyone else had gotten in before me. I maybe got two sips of coffee in when Voight strolled out of his office, informing us of the day's activities.

"Just got word of an active shooting in the Lincoln Park Zoo. They're requesting us for back up and investigating when things subside. Gear up and get out there ASAP."

We all spring to our feet, realizing the time we spend asking questions is time away from the scene. We pretty much grab our weapons and amo and protective gear while sprinting to the vehicles. There wasn't time for the usual pre-game routine, just enough time for a grab and go. It was a bit of a throwback to the Rangers. Often times, you'd be chilling in your room only to have your door pounded on seconds later, letting you know battle was calling in five minutes. As I climbed into the truck, I had to remind myself that while I was headed into a fire fight, this was not Afghanistan and things wouldn't end as they did over there.

There was an odd number of us, so I became the only person driving alone to the scene. It's heavily preached that officers and detectives shouldn't go at things alone and for good reason. For starters, the last thing you want to be is outnumbered. There is no better way to be over taken than letting your enemy know you're all that's coming. Also, should anything happen to you, it's vital that you have someone there to get you to safety. It felt weird rolling up to a scene by myself. I looked over at the passenger seat to find crap, not Hailey. But it was very temporary because Voight had told Hailey to head over to the park.

"Does anyone else find this odd? A shooting at a zoo in the middle of winter? Who's even there," Adam questioned over the radios. I find myself coming to these same ideas.

"I don't know. It's odd, but it can happen," I reply back.

"50-21 George, any update from the Lincoln Park shooting?"

"No reports of casualties, multiple shooters," dispatch crackles back. It raises a lot of suspicion. It is expected for there to be a sparse amount of people at the park, but zero casualties is rare. Even if it was a gang shooting, multiple shooters would mean multiple victims. The warning flags are waving high as we all pull up to the zoo's main gates. Everyone quickly comes to a halt and is out and running not long after. I glance around to find Hailey still not there, but I move into the facility. Waiting around seemed cowardly at this point. Better to go alone then wait and watch people's lives be at risk. Atwater and Kim headed towards the larger animals while Adam and Antonio went straight towards the indoor portion of the park. I grabbed heading right, in the direction of the nature preserves and barn.

Worst case scenarios are flying through my head. Every weave or intersection I met, I couldn't help but feel this is the point where something will happen. Running comes to an immediate stop. Crouching works best because it provides you the tactical advantage to progressing without being caught. About ten feet before a turn, I get low and tip toe to the edge. When you meet corner, it's best to do a quick peak, point a gun or extend an arm, ready for something to jump at you. When nothing happens, you rise and continue running. This was the routine utilized for most of the trip to the barn. It wasn't the faster way to go, but the most effective. Along the way, Intelligence was whispering on the radio, letting everyone know things were clear and appearing to be untouched. That eerie, scary movie music was blaring in my ears now. Nothing about this call made sense and the more we ventured in, the more things felt like a trap. I was near the red barn when I noticed the first sign of problems, a padlock had been blown off, most likely from a shot gun. Furthermore, one of the gates was halfway off its' hinges, more indications that things were awry. Running became cautious walking, each step getting that much closer to the problem.

I can't be the only one that find it weird there's a barn full of normal animals in the middle of Chicago. It really shows our city side. I'm sure tourists come here and laugh at our 'farm.' All the animals here can easily be found not too far outside the city limits. Zoos aren't designed to display horses, cows, and pigs, but that's all that's residing in this barn. Furthermore, it's bright red with white tresses, how stereotypical of us. My hands were on the door when I got that vibe that I wasn't alone anymore. Half of me reasoned it was because of the animals inside, but the rest of me warned that the mystery shooters were hole up inside.

With cautious' hands, I rolled the door enough for me to venture in. Heads popped out from their stalls as I stood at the doorway. Horses snorted while cows gave me hungry eyes, thinking it was another feeding session. Hay was scattered along the main walk way, the stench of animals and bodily fluids permeated the place. Looking left to right, I made my way down the aisle, crouching at each stall door and looking through the thin slips of space between the doors and frame. For the most part, things were fine. But it was at the seventh gate that a thud twisted me around. Now fully standing, I announced my title and told whoever to come out. When nothing happened, I walked closer to the stall, repeating the phrase. A smirk and redness came on my face when I realized it was just a horse kicking his foot against the floor, proving just how on edge I was. But perhaps that's what the attacker was waiting for: me to lose my guard. Because as I was in the process of turning back and resuming the search, something blunt and fist-like shoved into my forehead, causing me to hit the ground, hard.

Thanks to the rattling of my brain, vision was completely gone. I went from being perfectly healthy to experiencing the worst migraine of my life. This wasn't my first concussion, but I instantly knew this one was going to rank up there. I maybe got a blink in when another blow came down, meeting my right side that time. Now breathing was becoming a harder task. Something kicked in now, training or adrenaline or both, but I was on my feet before I even realized, swinging blind punches at whatever was out there. My fist made contact with something, only angering the thing on the other side. My punch was answered with a kick to the leg. I could've sworn I heard a small crack as I tumbled back down to the ground. A series of leg kicks began as I rolled on the floor. I covered my face in an effort to shield my head from sustaining anymore damage, but the rest of me was taking a serious punch. Things came to a head when I felt my gun slip out from the holster. Protective instincts and adrenaline kicked in. Now this wasn't about enduring something terrible, but making sure I got out of here alive. Everything was screaming in pain, but I lunged at my opponent, smiling as he screamed in shock. Now with a better view, it was a tall, skinny, kid. He couldn't have been more than twenty years old. He was terrified, But I didn't care. He had my gun and had a major advantage now. In a battle of living versus dying, I had no doubt I would come away victorious.

We struggled for a moment, me grabbing his wrist and squeezing the life out of it. He shouted in pain and flung his elbow at me, but the gun soon dropped onto the concrete floor. Since I was on top of the human pile, I sprung first, securing the gun and pointing it right at the kid's center point.

"Don't get up. I don't want to do it," I yell at him in a pant. He hesitates a bit, but then this evil grin comes on him as he steps forward. I had no other choice. The animals were startled from the blast, all of them shuffling and crying in their stalls. It must've rang through the park because my radio was blowing up with questions.

"Jay, you alright?"

"Jay, talk to us."

"Where are you?" The events of the last minute are catching up with reality. I was doubled over when the calls rolled in, but was in a heap on the floor when the strength to answer arrived.

"The…barn…" was all that came out, which I was somewhat proud of. Adam and Atwater radioed that they're on their way when I look up to see another figure, standing at the end of the walk way. He hesitates over the body before the two of us make eye contact. He mirrors his friend in height and build, but looks to be even younger. I get as far as raising my gun when he bolts out of the barn.

"UGH!" The absolute last thing I want to do is move, but my body had other ideas. In my hurried, altered state, I drop the radio and charge, ignoring the questions and concerns echoing on the other end. The pursuit continues.

…

The kid was crazy, stupid fast. Partly because he was taller and longer legged than I, but mostly because I wasn't in peak running shape. Surprisingly, I was keeping up with him for about the first hundred yards. Granted, I was constantly a step or two behind, but it was in shouting and tackling distance; just waiting for that perfect moment to grab him. However, as we left the zoo and entered the actual park portion of the park, I just stopped. The adrenaline was drained out, leaving me a depleted, dying person. In a couple of steps, I went from sprinting to walking to throwing all my body weight against a tree, not losing sight of the kid still frolicking ahead. My scrambled mind told me shedding layers was a great idea. Lighter meant more energy, my mind reasoned. The kevlar vest went first, the jacket right behind it. Now in jeans, and a thermal long sleeve shirt, and thigh holster on my leg, I jogged on, feeling like such a smart person running in below freezing temps in very little clothing. The path transitioned from ice coated sidewalks to the small hills and dips of the park's green space. We wove between trees and hills, me pausing every now and then to retain whatever amount of energy was left. We are on a crash course for the lake and in the moment, I'm sure we both won't make it to the shoreline; one of us wasn't going to cross that finish line and it was a toss up.

I finally caught up when the baseball fields came over the horizon. Right before, the kid had miscalculated the upcoming hil, running full tilt before rolling down. I stopped at the top, watching him scream and pause at the bottom, allowing me time to jog down a less steep portion of the hill. As I came closer, his body jolted, alerting me he'd passed out from the impact. I managed to get my hands on him before his writhing body kicked me in the gut. I reacted, he bolted. We both found the strength to cross onto one of the fields before coming to a stop. With the snow in place, you couldn't tell where the inflield met the outfield and base lines were undetectable. The way you even knew it was a sports field were the back stop fences and dugouts a few feet further down. The kid stopped himself on the back stop fence, allowing the springiness to offset his momentum, the bounce sending his tired body to the ground, clutching his sides and breathing heavily. He was reaching for something in his back pocket as I got closer, stopping somewhere where the pitcher's mound would be.

"Put…your…hands up." He didn't move a muscle.

"I'm not going to ask again. Drop whatever you have and let me see you're hands." He finally obeyed, but after flashing a small handgun. We were now in a bit of a standoff.

"Drop it now. I will shoot." The kid's hand was shaking as tears were running down his cheeks. It was slowly connecting. This whole thing was probably some sideways gang initiation. He was about that recruiting age and the growing amount of tattoos told me he was going in the membership process. He was scared, knowing he wasn't going to get out of this alive. I wanted him to walk away from this, work on his mistakes and try to live a normal life. But as I watched his finger squeeze the trigger, the sad realization came over: he wasn't going to get that opportunity. I ducked and fired, watching his body go limp and crumble to the ground.

"Dammit!" The snow was piercing my body as I laid against it in a snow angel way. It hurt, but it was somewhat relaxing as well. The sore, stiff, throbbing muscles and cuts on my body were thankful for the numbing substance under me. I laid for who knows how long, breathing through closed eyes and forcing breaths out of my exhausted lungs. You could've told me a meteorite was about to crash into the world and I wouldn't have cared. Probably joked about looking forward to the fiery show. I couldn't move, twitch, or even blink. I was there, barely existing. Head to toe, I knew I was a mess and in serious trouble, but I didn't care.

After some time, a mental snapshot of my phone flashed in front of me, my arm letting the rest of me know it had it. I tapped my chest twice before the mental tape rolled back, revealing both the phone and radio were back at the beginning of the running course. I loudly sighed, forcing myself to sit up. I had no clue where I was, the team wasn't even aware I had taken off, and I'm in jeans, a long sleeved shirt, shoes, and a thigh holster. The universe cued a stiff blast of wind at that nanosecond, conforming the stupidity of shedding those extra layers. So on top of the current physical issues, I was now racing against the hypothermia clock. Way to go, Jay.

…

The water called me. There was this invisible magnetic luring me in, offering peace and healing. In this type of situation, going further away from buildings and people was the worst idea. But the temptation was tantalizing so onward I went. I took a quick inventory of myself. Starting on the top, a nice egg had formed on my forehead, super sensitive to the touch. As I pulled my hand away, a thick layer of dark blood came with it. I didn't feel bone, but didn't need a mirror to know the thing on my forehead was bad. Let's not forget the pounding migraine that hasn't let up since the whole incident began. Arms were examined, finding multiple bruises and cuts from the punching and kicking in the barn. The chest a mixture of red, blue, and swelling around the stomach region, indicating something internal was going south. The leg that was kicked could still be moved and support some weight, but its' swollen appearance told me things weren't completely all right. Overall, I was a walking miracle, a little shocked I wasn't unconscious. I took a final snapshot of the world around me, hoping this wasn't the final moment of life. Everything was either black or white and everything was silent. You could see the zoo and trail I just ran through, but that was it. From this spot, you'd never guess a swarm of police were over there, picking up the pieces of a shooting, hopefully now looking for me. Trees occasionally rustled and birds danced from limbs, but for the most part, it was like living in a piece of art.

The trip to the shoreline was, expectedly, slow. Coming down from adrenaline, pain was all that I experienced. It's so hard to describe. Perhaps the best adjective would be bruised. Imagine your whole body hits something hard and you're at that day two part of healing, where the area is grotesquely black and blue and every movement is met with a stinging, deep soreness. Now imagine pushing yourself to walk half a mile to a frozen beach front. Sounds insane, because it is. The bridge over Lake Shore Drive was the worst part of it all. I walked four steps, stopped to brace myself on the ledge, and then repeated the process. To those approaching the bridge, I'm sure it looked like something dark and terrible was about to happen, but I didn't care. I had to make it, there wasn't another option. I cursed, loud, when I arrived at the stairs down to the beach. Walking was bad enough, forcing one's entire weight on one side of them was near torturous.

"This is so stupid. You're such an idiot," I repeated with each step. It took baby footfalls, but I made it down, still conscious and moving. I'm really not sure what's propelling me at this point. I made it to the Lakefront Trail and collapsed, smiling as I took in the tranquil blue water in front of me. I finally get why people enjoy beaches. Growing up, we only went to the beach at peak seasons, when you're literally fighting people over the smallest amount of sandy real estate. Swimming is a no-go because there are too many humans roadblocks in your way. And forget building a sand castle because it'll be trampled halfway through. I hated going, it was too loud and hectic and the farthest thing from relaxing. But now, realizing it was just me and the water, I finally got it. Water forces you to relax, makes you follow the pattern of waves coming and going; almost like the water is inhaling and exhaling. This tranquility puts things into perspective. A whole other world is on the opposite end of the pond, with people doing exactly what you're doing. Well, in this instance, I hope there isn't some poor soul resting at the water's edge, accepting they're in their final moments. I work myself into turning around and looking at the cityscape. Everything towers: the buildings, lights, cars, trees of the parks. I can't help but feel like an ant staring at Heaven. I'm so small and minute compared to the structures. People will not notice if I'm gone, the smallest of objets in this towering world. And while that may scare some, in this finale mindset, I'm at peace with it. I've paid my dues; I've done my time; and now my quiet exit has arrived. The final ounces of strength push me upright, guiding me to the water's edge. If there's a place to call it quits, no better place than the quiet, serene, freezing shore of Lake Michigan.

The lack of people became a two-pronged dilemma. On the one hand, I wanted people to find me. With no way to communicate with the world, I would need the help of people to get me out of this. But on the other hand, I was fine with being alone; refusing to have people see me like this. So now we're here, back at the Briny Beach situation, standing at the edge of solid ground and contemplating the two option question.

"Are you ready," the world asks? Tears are all I can give. Screw the acceptance speech from five minutes ago, this is my life. I haven't lived it to its' fullest yet. I haven't traveled the whole globe; haven't fallen in love and married her; haven't worked my way to the top of the leader chain. I've gone down this path with relatives before, but I'm not ready to say goodbye. Perhaps not everyone on Earth will notice, but a strong group will forever be changed and I didn't get to say farewell. I need to see Will a final time, poke fun at his stupid freak outs. I need one more case, a final hurrah with Intelligence; my swan song.

"No,' I whisper back, convinced the world is about to tell me otherwise. The loneliness now scares me, realizing the fact I am alone, help isn't coming. I take a final inhale, falling flat onto my back as I exhale. Vision is fading out, like I'm on the verge of falling asleep. Heart rate is slowing, breathing is crackled now. My mouth is open, about to verbalize my farewell, when shouts fill the stillness. Another breath, another blink, and I'm fully under the darkness.

…

Life became a series of ten to fifteen second audio clips. Eyelids weren't ready to reveal the world, but everything else was a bit of a light sleeper. There was the ambulance ride to the hospital. Hailey was finally there, telling me to hang on. There was beeping going off all around and something in my throat made speaking not possible. But a hand was attached to my right forearm, squeezing life into it. If I had the capability, I would've moved, blinked, done something to let her know I got the message. I couldn't stop shivering, the whole body in a constant shake, feeling more and more like a popsicle with each breath. Someone told her to back away, that things were getting bad. That was the mind's cue, telling me to hang on as it sent me back to sleep.

The shivering improved the next time things surfaced, but everything else felt worse, my headache being the worst of all. Things were calmer this scene. People were talking in hushed tones, being considerate of my dozing self.

"He's fighting it," I vaguely heard.

"Body temp is a little higher but the other…"

"Put him back under. He's too unstable to get off of it." I was paralyzed. I tried so hard to move, alert people this thing in my throat really hurt now. But couldn't move to save my life. Whimpers weren't even able to get out. It was like I was a mirror, looking at someone that resembled me, but couldn't match the mental commands to the muscle reactions. This moment truly was an out of body experience. The last thing I felt was this prick in my neck, instantly making the painful protesting of my throat cease. Then after that, things went black and I was floating in space again.

The smallest memory of all was, I'm guessing, when I was first reunited with everyone. Hands touching various sections of my upper body were what stirred me from slumber. Words were undetectable, but the tone is what scared me. I'd feel their touch, heard the sorrow and fear, and then they'd let go. How eerily poetic and contradicting is that. They were telling me to hold on while simultaneously letting go, allowing me that opportunity to slip away. Again, I couldn't return the gesture, let them know I was still on this Earth, for the most part. But instead, this altered place I was in only allowed me to hear, perhaps stacking up these audible reasons for me to keep fighting. I cherished it, despite being petrified I'd forever be in this paralytic predicament. My chest heaved deep in tune with the whooshing sound to my left and I hoped they got that that was me, saying hello from down here. But their unchanged tone and vibe said otherwise. Unconsciousness took me under, for a lengthy visit this time.

…

"There you go, Jay."

"What," I mentally asked? Time has completely left me, but I just have a feeling it's been awhile since the last check-in. I was still sore and in pain, but things feel to have improved. The thing blocking my throat is now gone, leaving a trail of spit and gravel behind. Something sucked out the first part, leaving the second thing to go away on its' own. I tried moving my hand, and felt fingers twitch against a cotton material. My head felt to be made of soup, but it wasn't throbbing as much. Will or whoever was in the room must've seen the hand movement, because the other hand was filled with something warm moments after.

"Hey, can you hear me?" There was my cue, the opportune moment to speak something, but all that popped out was half a groan. Someone be proud of me, it's the first time in Lord knows how long.

"What was that?" Nothing answered back. I tried again, full gusto this time. Alas, the smallest of whines was all I could produce. The warm thing tugged on my hand harder.

"Please don't tell me this is permanent. He should've been further along now, right?"

"It's early. Brain injuries are different, there isn't a set timeline." Permanent, brain injury, what the heck did these people do to me? I wanted so desperately to open my eyes, peel myself out of this world and jump back into the normal one. The voices on either side of me go back in forth, asking about pain management and reflex tests, but I'm just panicking, trying to get their attention. But the energy isn't there, the ability to do the most normal of functions hasn't returned to me. Despite my fear and unanswered questions, I fall back into bed with the unconscious one, hoping in the next round of resurfacing I'm able to finally break through.

…

I was never so happy to see a drop tile ceiling in my life. My eyes were open before I can even acknowledge I'm awake. I was terrified to blink, figuring this was a slip up of the darkness. My movement would alert them of my escape, sending me deep down into that dark world. But I blinked and I stayed, a victory indeed. I grew tired of the ceiling, asking to rove around and it was granted. I saw machines, stands, and things sticking out of my arms. The place smell of hand sanitizer and sterile things, evidence I was in a hospital. The beeping from several resurfaces ago was there, but it didn't sound as bad as that time. Something felt to be stuck on my head, almost on the back of it. My hand felt around, landing on a smooth section of my head, this large, tube-like thing connected to that area.

"Will," I asked, completely freaked out now. What did they do to me while I was away. Two heads sprung up in unison, one male and the other female: Will and Hailey.

"You're up," Hailey squeaked through a smile. She sat on the right side of my bed, eagerly awaiting for a response to her greeting. A full sentence was in my mind, but all that came out was a slurred version of it all.

"Wht…hap'nd?" Her face flipped, what was once ecstatic was hopeless. She turned away to face Will, her voice brimming with tears.

"What is wrong with him?" Will grabbed my hand and pulled it back to my side, his face full of observation and contemplating.

"Jay, blink if you can hear me." I easily obliged.

"Hearing is in tact," he concluded, I shrugged my shoulder and nodded. He then shone a bright light in my eyes, which I blinked from before turning away, refusing to close my eyes for too long.

"Sorry, but I've gotta check stuff." I nodded and faced him, focusing on breathing as he went about the poking and following things. Eventually, he concluded things were good for the recovery, still totally clueless as to what he was talking about.

"Do you want to sit up?" I wasn't even aware I was flat, but it was a considerate thing for him to ask. I nodded. He pressed a button on the bed, adjusting the thing coming out of my head as I rose.

"Wht…is…this," I asked again, really trying to communicate this time. Hailey didn't let go of my hand, looking over at Will to do the speaking. He sighed, pulling up a chair before replying.

"You were attacked a week ago. I were at the Lincoln Park Zoo and you got into an altercation with two people and they seriously hurt you. You made it to the lake before collapsing. By the time Hailey and the rest of the guys found you, you had developed a bad case of hypothermia and were unconscious, suffering from a decent brain bleed which became an epidural hematoma. They brought you here and you underwent an emergency surgery to relieve the pressure. The thing in your head is a drain and it'll come out in a couple of days. Also, you broke a couple of ribs and had a collapsed lung, most likely from the struggle with one of the attackers. You had a good amount of internal bleeding but it was fixed in surgery. You've got a lot of cuts and bruises, but things should heal on their own. You've been through a lot and you really scared us there for a bit." Hailey gave me the bravest of smiles as I glanced over at her, now understanding the tears and fear from the prior resurfaces. I really shouldn't be here, but somehow made it. Call it luck. Call it determination. But I'm here, thanks to whatever force intervened on my behalf. Despite the pain and short-term memory lapse, I was alive and it was all I could ask for. While some may feel scared of the circumstances, I was grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to heal and just be.

"What's…the…thing." I point to the back of my head, the proper words not coming in at this moment.

"They had to shave a strip of hair on the back of your head for the surgery. You won't be able to see it with a hat on and it'll go back in a few months." I pulled my hand away from the sight, not caring if I had to look different for a few months. It was better than the alternative.

"I'm sorry," I said, fighting tears as I looked at them. Hailey nodded as she inched closer, enveloping me in a cautious, but comforting hug. Will joined in as well, make a three human high pile. My chest was stiff, but it felt good to heave deeply, to feel alive and able again.

"I'm good," I alerted the two after a minute, both of them pulling away and smirking.

"You haven't eaten in over a week, hungry," Will asked? I vigorously nodded.

"Ok, we'll start you on something soft. Jello?"

"Sure." There was a pep to his step as he left, seeming to be rather happy to fulfill the Jello delivery role. Hailey watched him leave, inching closer to me as the coast was clear.

"If there's anyone who should be apologizing, it's me. I was late, I wasn't there to help you. I'm the whole reason you're in here."

"No, I didn't wait and I didn't keep people updated. This is all on me," I rebutted. She sighed, cocking her head as she spoke.

"We're going to have to agree to disagree." I reluctantly nodded.

"Let's make a deal, we don't go about things on our own. No more trying to do things solo." I held a pinkie out, which earned a dorky smile.

"Promise?" We locked fingers.

"Deal."

"Great! Let's eat," Will interjected, holding up three cups of Jello and spoons, an oath to the newly inked deal.

This was so hard to write. I really stepped out of my writing comfort zone on this one. My style is from a third person perspective. I like to imagine I'm a nosy girl sitting in the corner, notepad and pen in hand documenting everything I'm seeing, hearing, picking up from the characters. I have never written things as if I was the character. But you know what, it was a lot of fun. It's fun to push yourself, to keep trying new things. I encourage everyone to step out of their zone once in awhile. It's scary, but can also be rewarding and adventuresome. I hope you guys liked this. I'm very excited to see where we're going next!