What do I see across the way?
See myself molded in clay
Stares at me, yeah I'm afraid
Changing the shape of his face
Alice in Chains - Angry Chair
At Warren's words, I could feel the blood drain from my face. This wasn't right. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Tentatively, I stepped forward, close to Warren who placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Where's Jack?" I whispered, searching his eyes for any hint of what may be going on.
"He's here," he answered shortly, nodding.
A small amount of relief. "Alive?" Another nod from Warren, who caught me as my knees turned to jelly at the relief.
"Whoa, whoa, hey," he eased me gently to the floor. "Easy, doll. Ya with me?" I blinked my eyes to his and nodded once. "They cut him again, babe," he gestured across his lips with his finger. "Real bad. We had to stitch him up. Got him knocked out now so he ain't feelin' none of it," I didn't move as he spoke. This couldn't be real. This had to be a nightmare. I stared expressionless at his face as he continued. "He lost some blood. A lot of blood, really, and -"
Warren was cut off by a blood-curdling, inhuman scream coming from somewhere up a set of metal stairs. I launched myself from the floor and threw Warren's protesting hands from my shoulders, shooting a look back at him that had him reluctantly put his hands before himself defensively. I ran to the stairs. Some men made to stop me, but Warren must have said something to stop them, as I made it to the stairs and up them without and obstacles. All I could hear was the screaming. Jack's screaming. And the muffled voices of people trying to subdue him.
I found the room easily, but unprepared for the horror I was about to face. There was my Jack, with strength he oughtn't have been able to possess in his state, trying to fight off four people who were pushing him down to a bed. The room was bright, white but streaked everywhere with blood. His blood. His screaming went on and on. Like his smile. But he wasn't smiling. Yet there it was. Wide, red, harsh and ugly. Black stitches torn and hanging from several spots along the wounds. For the second time, I felt my legs grow weak and for the second time, Warren - who must have followed me up the stairs - caught me before I hit the ground, shushing me gently as my loud, red and white world went black and quiet.
I awoke with a start, disoriented, in a darkened room on a musty, lumpy bed. Dim light streamed in through an open door and through the heavy curtains on the window. I heard the muffled sounds of conversation from somewhere outside the door. Eyes adjusting to the light, I took in my surroundings, realizing my throat was dry when my eyes fell on a glass of water, I grabbed it and drank it greedily down. I licked my lips as I set the glass back down on the table beside the bed. My lips. "Jack!" I gasped, standing. I took a moment to steady myself before walking slowly, but with purpose, out the door.
Warren saw me a second before I saw him and ended what appeared to be a heated telephone conversation as he made his way over to me. "Kaylie," he greeted tiredly. "I-"
"Jack," I cut him off. "Where's Jack?"
He nodded understandingly and took me gently by the shoulders, leading me to the staircase I had ascended earlier. "This way," I could tell he hadn't slept. His voice was hard and strained. "He's not conscious," he warned me as we climbed the stairs.
"How long was I?" I asked him.
"Just a few hours," he informed me, sounding almost jealous. "It's only 8." I nodded my understanding as we reached the door, which was closed now. "There's a chair in there. Stay calm, doll. I'm gonna go grab you something to eat. No arguments," he insisted as I opened my mouth to protest. "I'll be back in a bit."
I took a deep breath as Warren left me at the door and braced myself for what I was about to walk into. I closed my eyes and willed myself not to burst into tears right there before I brought my hand to the doorknob. Another breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, before I slowly pushed the door open.
I took in the room before I looked at Jack. The blood was absent from the walls, and from his bedding. Someone had cleaned up. I was glad for that. Bracing myself once more, I let my eyes reach Jack's face. Both cheeks were, thankfully, covered in white bandages. His skin was almost grey. He looked terrible. He needed to be in the hospital, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. I looked at the table to his right and there was a glass of water with a straw in it. Had he been awake? I wondered to myself. The glass was full, and there wasn't any blood on it or the straw, so I assumed he hadn't been. The room wasn't as bright as it had been earlier, the only light coming from a window across the room.
I made my way to the chair on his left side and pulled it close to the bed, resting my right elbow on the table on this side and resting my tired, heavy head in my hand. I mindlessly started drawing shapes and spirals on his left arm with my left hand, barely touching his skin, just enough to tell myself he's really there. Tears sprang to my eyes as a started to hum an unknown tune quietly to him. How was this real? Why was this real? I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my left hand, bringing my head down to kiss his arm where I had been touching him. I put my head back in my hand and kept my eyes on Jack's face, crossing my legs and resting my left hand on them, occasionally raising it to wipe unfallen tears from my eyes.
I don't know how long I sat like that, staring silently at the love of my life, but some time later there was a quiet knock at the door and an unfamiliar cough announcing someone's arrival. I jerked my head from my hand in surprise and looked to the door. A big, black-haired smiled slightly and spoke, "Name's Art. I'm takin' care-a ya boy here," he explained casually.
"You a doctor, Art?" I asked, unexpected venom in my voice.
He stepped into the room and shrugged bringing his hands up and shaking them from side to side, as if saying "sort of" as he walked to the other side of Jack's bed. "They call me Doc," he half-chuckled. "I take care of things. I'm trained. I know what I'm doin'," he assured me, which wasn't very reassuring at all.
"He needs a doctor," I sighed, exasperated. "Even I can see he's lost too much blood."
Art smiled apologetically and went about checking on Jack. As he was doing this, Warren walked through the door holding a brown paper bag and a tray with two coffees. He paused as he entered, looking between Art and I, clearly sensing the tension, before coming to set the food and drinks on the table next to me, pulling a second chair up to it and sitting with his back to the wall on the other side of the table. "Problem?" He asked simply.
I turned my head so I could glare at him. "Jack needs more help than you can provide, Warren," I explained, taking the lid off of one of the coffees so I could empty three sugars into it.
"That's never true," Warren insisted, taking a sip of his coffee. "How's he lookin' Doc?"
Art looked to his boss and shrugged. "He's comin' around," he nodded. I noticed he was removing one of the bandages from Jack's face, the right side, and I couldn't help but watch. The cut beneath was gruesome. Art noticed me looking and spoke up. "Between the scar tissue and him ripping the stitches out yesterday, this is the best we could do," he explained sadly.
I grimaced and turned to Warren. "He needs to go to a hospital, Warren, and-"
"Nuh..." My head snapped around to see Jack slowly shaking his head back and forth. His voice simultaneously high and hoarse. "Nuh, Kay... Nuh..." His eyes opened slightly and met mine.
"Jack!" I took his hand, as he was weakly lifting his arm to me.
"Uhll ve fine," he was trying to reassure me. "Nuh hos-i-tal," he shook his head again. I could see him growing weaker again.
"Okay, baby," I nodded. "No hospital. I love you," I croaked.
Jack nodded once, apparently relieved. "Luh... you..." He slurred out before fading away to unconsciousness once again.
I cried now, really cried. Tears of relief because he woke up. Tears of sadness because he passed out again. Tears of anger because this happened. And tears of resignation at how it was having to be handled.
"We're taking care of it, doll," Warren spoke grimly, a gentle hand unwelcome on my back as I cried into my hands.
I looked up, face contorted with rage and turned to Warren, speaking to him between sobs. "You'd... Fucking... Better..."
A/N - Hey everyone! So sorry for not updating sooner! That was terrible of me to leave it like this for so long. I also apologize for the short chapter. The next one will be longer, I promise. And I hope to have it up this weekend, Monday at the latest. Thanks to all reading, reviewing, faving and following. Hope you had good holidays!
