Part 11

(Back to Jimi's POV)

I stared down at my newly bandaged wrists while my tear stained eyes continued to burn. My throat became dry and hot again, and I could barely speak for a few moments...maybe more. Layne was asleep on the right side of the huge cot that had been placed in Bob's ward in case anyone was sick. Bob had so many of them, and it was still unknown to me how he managed to get all of them into the Heartbreak, let alone find them.

My head and eyes were still throbbing slowly with some rhythm. My wrists and palms were still in pain, and the knife I used was gone. Layne had probably trashed it somewhere when he brought me down to where Bob was. Or maybe he buried it in the dirt when I wasn't looking...I don't know. All I knew was that a part of me felt incredibly stupid for pulling that sort of stunt; but I just didn't know what else to think anymore.

I slowly laid the right side of my body back onto the cot and squinted as it creaked each time I moved. Layne suddenly moved next to my side and asked me how I was, if I had felt any better or worse.

"What do you think?" I whispered.
"I can't tell with all the sarcasm you have buried inside," Layne answered, which caused me to turn over and face him.
"What makes you think I have...sarcasm?"
"You must've inherited it from Scaramouche."
"Doubt it. I seriously doubt it."

He touched a part of my cheek and said that those last hours scared the living shit out of him.
"I mean, I've heard stories about the other Bohemians here getting incredibly mental and going too far aside from the cutting, but that was rough," Layne said.
"Yeah, but at least I wasn't lying in a pool of my own blood," I replied, which didn't sound right at all.
"Don't say that. Seriously. Just don't say that," he said.
"I'm sorry."
"I know. But just don't say that again."

I heard once from Meat that the reason he ran was because his mother was also accused of rebellion, and had killed herself moments before she could be taken into custody. He was only a kid at that time, but when he found out about her death years later, it caused him to worry on the inside about almost everything.

We fell asleep moments later without a word, and more silence surrounded us until Bob shoved the both of us out of his ward and we had to share the same mattress in my room. That was about it, and I hoped that his anger wasn't going to stay.

(To be continued...)