Chapter 3
***Brian POV
Everything is painfully familiar; the walls, the chairs. I wish it wasn't. I wish I didn't have to be here today as much as I wish I hadn't had to be here last time. I can still feel the phantom stroke of Mikey's hand on the back of my neck, the traces of tears that refused to stay fucking put. Jennifer will be here soon. I had to force myself to call her. I knew it was necessary, but for some reason my fingers didn't want to dial the phone. It was as if to talk about it, to let someone know would make it real. It would mean that this is really happening, that I am here. Again.
But I haven't called anyone else. Earlier this evening it was so easy, so simple to call them. Casual conversation, with little weight and little consequence. But I don't know if I can take the shocked gasps, the oh my gods, the crying. It's all too much. And yet I know they have to know, need to know. Not calling them is not an option.
I call Mikey. He answers, even groggier than before. I glance at my watch; it's 5:15 a.m. "Mikey, Justin's been attacked. Just get here." I hang up, and suddenly feel exhausted. The night's events repeat over and over in my mind. I can't stop them. It's like a scratched DVD that's stuck, replaying the same scene over and over. And I can't find the fucking remote to turn it off.
As I walk over to the receptionist, she looks up at me, and gives me a tight-lipped smile. "Can I help you?" she asks, her tone making it clear that asking for information for the seventh time in fifteen minutes is not going to get me on her good side.
"Look, I just want some information, okay? Christ, this isn't the CIA."
"No, it isn't," she simpers, "but patient information is given out to family members only. And you said you aren't family."
I sigh. "Look, if you could just-"
"I'm sorry, but what exactly are you to the kid anyway?" I stare at her for a minute, then walk away, unable to answer. God, why does everything have to be so fucking complicated? I return to my seat to wait, my head in my hands. I am still sitting this way minutes later when Jennifer rushes in. I look up, recognizing her voice as she frantically speaks to the receptionist. I get up and walk up next to her as she talks to the woman.
"Yes, yes I'm his mother. Just tell me what's going on!" She stops and takes a deep breath which hitches in her throat. She notices me and gives me a small nod. The receptionist glares at me.
"This guy has been bothering me for ten minutes. Do you want him to listen to-"
"Yes, of course!" Just tell me what's happening!" Jennifer looks as if she's going to burst into tears at any moment. The receptionist's fingers fly across her keys, and after a minute she looks up at us.
"Justin Taylor is currently in surgery. When he comes out, we will get the doctor to come talk to you and update you on his condition.
Jennifer looks at her, wide-eyed. "You can't tell us any more?"
"No, but I'll alert you when the doctor is ready to speak with you." We walk back to the chairs and sit. Jennifer starts to sob, and I wish I could comfort her. But I can't, goddamnit. Frustration fills me. I want to know how he is, and I want to know now. I just try to breathe. I try not to let my fear overtake my brain.
Mikey runs in, Ben trailing behind. I see him before he sees me, watch his eyes searching the room until he meets my gaze. His face is full of pity, and I look away. I don't want anyone's goddamn pity. He sits down next to me, and I feel his brown eyes staring imploringly at me. But I won't lift my head to look at him.
"Have you heard anything? What's going on? What happened?"
"Not really, I don't know, don't want to talk about it."
"Brian…"
Jennifer interrupts. "They said that Justin is in surgery, and that we'll be informed of everything once he gets out. As for what happened, I don't really know that myself." She turns to stare at me, and I know I have to speak. But my throat feels rusted shut. I manage to pry my mouth open and force the words out.
"Justin was really late coming home. So I went looking for him. I found him in an alley, lying on the ground. He was…" I stop. Why can't I fucking talk about it? What's wrong with me? "He was beaten and bleeding. He was awake for a moment, but then he passed out." I shudder, recalling those brilliant blue eyes snapping open, so full of pain, locking onto mine with some indescribable force.
Jennifer and Mikey sit back in their chairs, stunned. Jennifer starts sobbing all over again, while Mikey turns to look at me. "Have you called everyone else?" he asks.
"No."
"Jesus, Brian, they need to know!"
I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing my emotions to stop their violent struggle for dominance. "Look, Mikey, could you just call them?" I reply, tiredly. His frustration quickly changes into pity. Again. I look away. Again.
"Fine." He pulls out his phone, and begins to dial. I get up and walk away, for some reason not wanting to listen. As I walk past the receptionist, she stops me.
"What?" I ask, annoyed.
"Justin Taylor just got out of surgery. His doctor will come speak to you all shortly." I feel uneasy and hopeful at the same time. There's a question I need to ask though, right now.
"He's… he's alive, right?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything. The doctor will be here soon." The dread in my stomach threatens to overcome the newfound hope, and I want to throw up.
The little twat better be okay.
