Chapter Eleven

I sat in the scarlet armchair, a soft cast on my left. I was watching the steady rising and falling of her chest. She was breathing – that was what mattered. Her hands were connected to several wires, pipes connecting her to various machines which produced steady beeps which reassured me.

My right hand squeezed on her left, and I looked up to her bruised face; a blue mark sat a few inches in front of her ear, her nose was bright red, which drew my eyes back to the tubes inserted into her nostrils. She was still asleep.

"I'm sorry." I muttered again.

I turned to the door to see Christy standing there with a bundle of flowers. She looked at me carefully, as if I was going to attack her or the comatose girl in the hospital bed.

"I wanted to see if she was okay." I choked out through teary eyes and a strangled voice.
She took one look at me, then walked over to the other side of her, placing a hand on her right hand. She looked from the sleeping face to the foot of my chair.

"What do you want me to tell her when she wakes up?" She asked, brushing the hair out of her closed eyes.

I looked at her face too. It was still so delicate, despite the bruising.

"Nothing." I said. "It's better that way." I leant down and picked up the large bag, putting the strap over my shoulder. "I'll be gone in about an hour."

Christy nodded, placing another hand on Kaitlyn's hand.
"Don't come back." She said. "All you did was make her second-guess her feelings about Jimmy. You shouldn't be playing around with her feelings. It's not fair to her. She deserves more."

I nodded slowly, taking in what she said.

"Kaitlyn's better then some cheap fling."

I got up and walked over to the door, opening it and standing there for a second.
"You know it was more then that." I said.

Christy sighed.
"I know." She looked up at me. "She cared about you too."

I nodded, taking out a piece of paper and scribbling down various numbers on it.
"That's my mobile phone number." I said, handing it out to Christy without any reciprocation. "Just…let me know how she is."
Christy stood there, looking at the number dully.
"Please." I insisted. "I just need to know that she's okay."
She looked in my eyes for a few seconds, then slowly took the paper from me.
"Thank you." I said.
I went through the door and into the elevator, pressing the ground floor and going down to the lobby and taking the bus back to Bullworth Academy.

It was six o'clock, so no one was about. Especially since it was the holidays. I walked up to Harrington House, silently trudging up the stairs. I opened the door and found I'd left my wardrobe open, the second drawer still open. I walked over to the edge and found the brown moleskin book still in there. I grabbed it and flipped through the pages until I found the number I'd written down last year. I sighed and closed it again, putting it in my back pocket and going back down the stairs, on my way there, I saw Kara asleep on the sofa in the lounge. A book was open underneath her face. It felt bad not saying goodbye to her – as if she'd take it personally. It was better this way though – she couldn't ask him any long inquiries. I didn't belong here. I didn't belong anywhere. I guess I was just born to sort of…wander really. It's not like anything was holding me here so I planned to keep on moving until I did find it.

I made my way to the school gates and then waited seven minutes until boarding the coach to New England coach depot, where I would take coaches until I arrived at my destination.

I took out my phone and dialled the number from my small moleskin book. I waited a few moments while it rang.

"Hello?" The male voice answered the phone.

"Hey, is this Jack Taylor?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"This is Aiden Kane."
Jack Taylor was silent for a time.
"Aiden Kane?" He asked, emphasis on my last name.
"Yes."
"Aiden Kane who?" He asked, as if digging through his memory banks.
"Aiden Kane your son?"