Ahhh things aren't going quite well (I'm typing this up on the Mac, fer God's sake… can't get the bloody keyboard to work correctly) and I haven't seen Across the Universe since March. Know where I'm coming from on this—well… no… you don't have to.
I wish everything was owned by me, but sadly…

Chapter Nine

The next time I wake up I'm disappointed to see that Sadie has left, and instead that Jojo is sitting there looking strangely calm despite all the death and disease that usually come in the hospital. When he sees I'm awake he gives me a smile, soft and understanding. I feel like my mouth is full of cotton and my head feels lighter than air. Filled with helium, maybe.

"Hey." That's all he says, and I attempt to give him a smile but it just doesn't work.

"'Lo."

His dark eyes wander around the hospital room, at the depressing white of it all and the ugly curtains not chosen for any real enjoyment. "Prudence's coming in a little while… they uh… said you couldn't afford to stay longer." He looks pained for a minute, clearing his throat. "Had to sell some stuff—"

I'm filled with a sudden sick sense of horror. "W-What kind of… stuff?"

Jojo looks uncomfortable for the first time since I've woken up and he doesn't meet my eyes when he speaks next. "Your art, man… not all of it'd sell… some of it, though. And my guitar." I look down at my hands. They're shaking and I can see a bit of blood coming through the bandages.

"Jojo, I'm so sorry," I rasp, looking at him, seeing the way his eyes are fixed firmly upon his hands. They're calloused, from years and years of guitar playing… he was so fantastic… I'm filled with overwhelming guilt as I stare at the saddened expression, see the way his shoulders slump.

"Nah," he murmurs, giving me a shaky smile. "It's not a problem…"

"But what about Sadie…?"

He stiffens, blinks rapidly and then sighs. "She doesn't know what to do." A sort of humorless laughter bubbles up from inside him, and he shakes his head. "We almost made it, too."

I don't know how much more of this I can take, the memories of what happened to me in the basement and the way I've imposed on everyone, it seems. Taking time away from Lucy and Max's busy schedule, worrying Sadie, making Jojo sell his guitar just to keep me here… I glance briefly at the heart monitor and will it to stop going, for the rise of the line to vanish as if by magic and for that never-ending beep to sound throughout the hospital. For a moment I watch the progress of that ever-moving red line, hypnotized until the door opens and Prudence walks in.

Usually when Prudence moves she seems to glide, to drift in a way that's unique only to her. She has this optimistic way about her that I've only seen vanish a few times and it's such a drastic change. Now she moves quietly and gracelessly, her eyes wide as she takes in everything around her. I'm sure she's no innocent (I know she isn't) but the startled expression she wears as she looks around at the machines makes me think otherwise. Not so innocent in some ways, but there are others.

"Hey Jude." She wiggles her fingers in a strange sort of greeting and steps away from the doorway as Jojo leaves. He moves swiftly from the room with his head bowed and a defeated air to him, like he's just lost something more than a guitar. His best friend. His life.

I remember once he told us about how he started living in Sadie's apartment, and how his younger brother had been killed. One shot. He hadn't gotten there in time. I wonder maybe, if the guitar was what was keeping that guilt at bay, and without it, everything was spilling over for him.

What if I broke Jojo?

Pru's voice breaks into my thoughts, the horror that maybe I've just ruined another human being, as she tentatively sits on the edge of my bed. More forward than any of the others have been, save for Lucy who's insistence to touch me was more frightening than amusing.

"So they're going to discharge you," she says quietly, hands resting on her knees as she looks nervously at the heart monitor. "Um… Max is outside with the taxi… they're going to take you out in a wheelchair."

I glance down at my legs. Half of them are covered by a blanket, half aren't. My feet stick out awkwardly at the end, and in a moment of self-consciousness I move the blanket to cover them. I don't like my feet… I don't like feet in general.

Prudence notices this and her lips twitch, as if she wants to smile but isn't sure she should. "You can walk; they just don't want you falling over or anything. You're kind of pumped full of stuff." She motions to the IV connected to my arm, the other bags of God-knows-what. "And you get painkillers… don't let anyone get those," she says it seriously enough that I don't attempt to smile.

With a sigh that sounds a bit relieved, she stands up and claps her hands. "The doc's gonna be here in a minute, I'll wait outside." And she's gone before I can ask her to stay, or ask if they really had to sell Jojo's guitar. If he had any say in the matter and if Sadie's not going to get the big break she deserves.

What if they blame me?

When the doctor comes in I'm staring at the television which has been running General Hospital again, a simplistic episode that I realize is nothing like a real hospital. Not everyone dies.

But then again, some do.

The doctor helps me up, allows me to use the restroom although the IV is still stuck to me, and he hangs the bag containing the fluid on a hook on the bathroom door. I feel so strange using the restroom, being so careful because of the thing attached to the top of my hand. My head swims whenever I stand up, and I have to be careful washing my hands. Don't want to hurt my wrists.

Well, they hurt anyway.

He has to help me into my clothes, or at least, he tries to. I put up enough of a fuss that I'm allowed to do it myself but he watches carefully, keeping an eye trained on any stitches, on my side and on my hands, which are shaking as I pull the shirt Prudence brought with her over my head. As I pull my jeans up and button them.

The IV doesn't hurt much when it comes out, but he places a cotton swab right over it, and holds it down with medical tape. His expression is a sort of professional sympathy, one that he's probably told to give everyone regardless of how long their stay will be.

Mine wasn't that long. And they couldn't keep me… Jojo had to sell his guitar… as the doctor wheels me out to Max's cab I feel sick. Max notices this and asks me if I'm okay but I don't want to talk about it. There's a lot that I can't understand about him, but I always enjoyed the fact that I could tell him nearly anything. Now I just feel isolated.

We head back from the hospital with Prudence next to Max in the front seat, and Max glancing at me every once in a while through the rearview mirror. He's actually going to speed limit, although because it's the afternoon we're stuck in more traffic than usual, and there isn't much to look at.

All I can think of is the way Jojo told me about my sold paintings, the sold guitar. How his shoulders slumped and the pained expression… they were about to hit it big, but it's over. It's my fault.

Under normal circumstances I should be glad that I sold a painting, let alone a couple. I'm a real artist now (sort of), but that won't get Jojo his guitar back.

That won't stop him from hurting.

I feel my chest tighten, my stomach twist itself into knots.

What if I broke Jojo?

I'm so mean to them. DxBut considering how little money they had, Jude wouldn't be able to stay long anyway. Plus, I ran out of visitors. Suure, Desmond could come in but Desmond never really appears in any of my stories except the zombie one.
Also, I feel awful for doing that to Jojo. He's such a fantastic character, I love the guy, but for me, love means I make them extremely sad… which is what I did. You know what? We also don't have much mention of Jojo. Jojo or Sadie or Prudence. That makes me kind of sad.