Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Forty-Three | Jasper

Ropes dug into Jasper's wrists uncomfortably, his neck ached as he stared down at the muddy ground beneath him. They hadn't given him his jacket, his body shuddered violently in the biting cold, the wind stung his eyes. His breath shuddered, but not just from the chattering of his teeth. Fear clamped down on his chest, taking ahold of any other emotion and shoving them away. He only felt fear. Not the fear of death, the fear of never getting to say goodbye.

An inescapable, agonizing void of grief and torment ripped at Jasper's heart. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Darren's desperate screams were muffled, every voice blended into the background, the only dominant sound was the beating of his own pulse echoing in his ears. Every time Jasper let out a choked gasp for oxygen, a swirl of mist blinded his eyes when his warm breath hit the air.

"You can't do this," Jasper couldn't even hear his own voice. It was muffled just like the others. His vocal chords refused to work properly, as if they'd been covered in ice and were shaking themselves. "You didn't even let me say goodbye."

"Jasper, Jasper no!" Darren's panicked cries sent shooting pangs that pierced Jasper's heart. He'd never see his friend smile again, he'd never see Killian's face again. Only his own blood across the snow.

As the afternoon sun assaulted Jasper's eyes with a blinding light, a blood-curtling scream sent shivers down his spine, just as a gunshot echoed through the lonely field. The ground rushed up at him, his body hitting the cold mud and melted snow. Desperate gasps for air left his lips, he could see his own pool of inky-black, scarlet blood leaking across the white ground. A burning pain slowly radiated out from the side of his head.

But the cold was strange. Jasper's panic began to slowly subside, only to be replaced with an odd sort of satisfaction, peace. The world blurred in front of his eyes, the screams slowly faded away, his muscles relaxed more than they ever had for a long, long time. The only thing he could see was the fiery-orange and pink sunset—beautiful. The edges of Jasper's vision grew dark, his chest heaving for air and tightening. But he felt no pain, the cold only brought him a dull numbness.

"Jasper, no!" A distantly familiar shriek and the sound of clumsy, rapid footsteps accompanied it. Somebody grappled onto him, turning him over onto his back. Then there was nothing but unadulterated pain. A splitting headache jerked him away from the initial shock, a burning that spread through his skull and tightened his jaw.

Jasper could feel his heart racing, his body suddenly growing uncomfortably hot. The wind battered against his body viciously, snow clung to his eyelashes, making it had to see or blink. His limbs felt stiff, exhaustion dragging at his body. The blood on the side of his face where the bullet grazed him was blazing against his cold flesh.

"He's freezing," He heard an echoing voice say. Was it shaky because his mind was growing fuzzy, or were they scared?

"You monsters! You let him outside without a jacket in a snowstorm?" Another voice demanded.

As they world began to fall away and the ground beneath him became soft and comfortable, Jasper's vision blurred. The last thing he could feel was a tingling pain like needles over his skin and somebody spitting, "He was going to die anyways."

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When Jasper tried to open his eyes, it was painful. He forced his lids to blink several times, tears rushed to dampen the dried out surface. His heart drummed hard in his chest, almost like he couldn't catch his breath. He was laying on a soft surface. As his vision began to recover, the first thing he was was a fireplace of the farmhouse living room.

A soft weight covered Jasper's whole body, several blankets were piled on top of him. His boots lay on the floor a few feet away. There was somebody sitting on the floor next to him, pressing a warm cloth against his forehead. He knit his brows together with confusion. Moments ago he'd been outside, what had happened? Enraged yelling pierced his ears, he winced as the blood roaring in his ears dulled away and his regular hearing returned.