I SQUINT AT the brightness shining above me, making the darkness seem a little red. Igroan, grimacing as I tilt my head side to side, breathing in the fresh airaround me and feeling my surroundings. I feel something touching my forehead,something damp—probably a dishcloth or a washcloth with water in it or the backof a sweaty hand? I can't tell.
I feel something soft around me like silk,something crinkling as I shift a little, groaning as I feel a raging headache comingon. I hear faint noises coming around me, like murmurs or whispers. Voices. They're voices. They sound anxious and worried. I feel someone clutching ontomy hand, squeezing it and mumbling desperate, pleading prayers to himself. I squeeze back, instantly knowing who this hand belongs too.
"Alex..." he gasps, his voice full of relief. I hear a chair scoot back. He's standing, probably hovering over me. "Alexander?"
"Jack...?" I croak, my voice raw and I can barely hear myself.
"Thank God," John breathes, slumping against his chair and tossing his head back as he closes his eyes tightly. He clutches onto my hand tighter. "Thank God."
"Mon Dieu!" says a familiar French accented voice next to me. Lafayette... "Mon Dieu! Oh, petite lion! You're alive! Oh, mon dieu!"
"Gil?" I croak, grimacing and hissing through clenched teeth as I slowly try to prop myself up.
"I'm here, little bro," Lafayette gasps, clutching onto my other hand. "I'm right here. You're okay."
I slowly crack my eyes open, blinking and grimacing at the brightness above me. Once I'm adjusted to the light, I crane my neck over to the left to find the love of my life sitting next to me with my hand in his, clutching it for dear life. His beautiful sky-blue eyes are wide with relief and he relaxes immediately. His honey-blonde hair in his usual loose, low ponytail draping over the back of his neck. I smile softly, squeezing his hand tighter, brushing my thumb over his knuckles.
"Alexander!" John gasps, blinking relieved and happy tears out of his eyes. "Thank God! How're youfeeling, Alex?"
"Hey, Jack," I croak. "Where am I?"
"You're in Long Island Hospital," John answers. "It was the closest hospital we could find nearby when I found you unconscious in the bathroom at that café shop."
My breath hitches, eyes widening as I remember what happened. I scramble up, wincing as I try to prop myself up against the mountain of pillows behind me, the bedsheet crinkling. I glance around the room frantically, searching for Andre and the chair to whack him with again, my breathing quickening. But Lafayette and John's hands press against my shoulders, pushing me back down onto the reclined hospital bed, ordering meto lie back down and to breathe. That I'm alright and safe.
"What happened?" I rasp out. "Where's Andre? Is he—"
"Alive, and he's being treated as well," says another voice from at the foot of the hospital bed.
I turn to find George standing in front of the bed with a hand on the rail and Martha standing beside him with a relieved look on her face. She smiles warmlyat me and I couldn't resist. I return the smile.
"Dad..." I breathe with relief, locking eyes with George and then turn over to Martha, "Mom..."
They nod, smiling down at me. I frown again.
"What happened?" I ask.
"You were..." John begins shakily. He clutches onto my hand tighter and swallows. "You were r-r..."
YOU ARE READING
Helpless (Book 1)
FanfictionSeventeen-year-old Alexander Hamilton should feel lucky. He should feel lucky that he survived the hurricane and the illness he and his mother had when he was twelve. He should feel lucky that he has a family now, an adoptive one at that. He doesn't...
