They're trying to be quiet, but I can still hear them. The doctor is telling Jack about my concussion, and my cuts, and saying that I'm lucky, because it could have been so much worse. How much worse could it be? Daerek has no heartbeat. It feels as though my lungs have been taken away.
The doctor and Jack walk in, and Jack rushes to my side. "I called Dante." He says. "He'll be here as soon as he can. Are you okay?"
I stare at my hands, so limp in my lap. What does it matter if Dante comes? Dante isn't Daerek, and he can't bring him back. Daerek and I were going to be forever, and now my life is nothing more than a series of broken hearts.
"Julia?" Jack asks. His voice reverberates in my skull, loud and echoing. "C'mon, please talk to me?" That's funny. Talk. If I could talk, I'd have been found hours ago. It wouldn't be past midnight and I wouldn't have had to feel Daerek's body grow colder and colder. I can't speak. I'm mute, so I'll never speak so long as I live.
"Julia." Jack begs. I raise my hands. The automail arm pops with every little motion, and the gears are unwilling, stiff. I almost can't form the words my fingers try to spell.
He's dead, Jack.