Charity Case (Creepypasta/Jeff the Killer Love Story)

Chapter 29

I was confused when I woke up the next day. I had already been a little disoriented from my concussion and the... nightmares, but I quickly realized I wasn't in the same room I had been in when I fell asleep. It wasn't had to tell. Jeff was sleeping in the bed next to me. I had woken to the sound of his heart rate monitor, beeping steadily to assure me he was alive.

I was told before I slept that he had come out of surgery and was going to be fine. He would have to stay in the hospital for a few days, but other than that, his recovery would be fast. The scar would always remain, but I had said he was used to those kinds of things. Still, I wasn't allowed to see him since he was resting, and I was forced to follow suit.

It was explained to me once I woke that they had to put us in the same room for security reasons. A police officer was standing guard outside our door, and I didn't mind. It was hard to imagine anyone wanting to hurt Jeff, but when I looked outside the window, I suddenly understood why we needed the protection.

The window gave a view of the hospital parking lot. It was still dark out. It was only just barely five in the morning, after all, but I could still make out the reporters standing in the light of the building with their news trucks and cameras. It looked like Jeff would be making the front page again. I had no clue what they were trying to get from us. Proof Jeff was a maniac? A heartbreaking tale of a boy's complete misfortune? I didn't care, but I definitely wanted them all far away from us. They had never been on our side before, and I doubted they had finally seen the truth of the situation.

A rustling noise pulled my attention to Jeff. He was beginning to stir. I went over to his bedside, pulling my IV with me that also acted as my support for walking, and grabbed his hand. When he opened his eyes, I smiled a little. It was the first true sign that he was going to be okay I had been given. He sighed and closed them again, probably sensitive to the light. "Ronnie, why does it smell like bleach?" he asked in a hoarse voice, but still full of the same attitude he always had. Also, his speech was a little handicapped since one of his scars had to be stitched up again.

"We're in the hospital," I told him carefully, afraid of his reaction. And rightfully so. His eyes popped open with new alertness.

"What? Why are we here?" he demanded, going to pull out the IV linked to his pain medication.

I covered the needle with my hand and warned, "Calm down, Jeff! They might chain you to the bed! I doubt they, um, trust you enough."

His eyebrows pulled together, "Chain me to the...? The police are here, aren't they? Shit!" He tried to sit up. "Where are my clothes? We've gotta go!" He hissed and grabbed his middle at the sudden movements.

I pushed him back on the bed, "I called the police! And the ambulance! Remember? Take it, uh.... Take it easy, okay? Your wound was pretty bad. You were in, uh... emergency surgery for hours."

"Surgery?" Jeff almost choked on the word. "No way! I can't pay for that! We need to leave before they hand me a fucking bill!"

"Please, c-... calm down! My parents already agreed to take care of it. Our insurance covers most of it," I explained. He looked even more terrified.