The Real Scömìche

Scott

I sat in the waiting room outside Mitch's room, running my fingers through my hair, not caring what it looked like for once. The sigh I unwillingly let out was filled with hopelessness and sadness and exasperation. I was just at loss at why he'd return to that place. I knew what it felt like, sure, but there was something that had happened that he wouldn't tell anybody, and I knew him well enough to know it most likely wasn't about me. Something had happened, something that had terrified him, in those 24 hours that he'd disappeared. I chewed my lip. There were very, very few things that Mitch refused to tell me. And I was afraid of what those things were. Seriously afraid. I waited for Kirst to come out, fiddling with the hem of my colourful checked shirt. It was red, blue, yellow and seriously bright; I thought it was good luck to wear bright colours to a hospital. Wearing black just seemed like I was assuming the worst possible outcome. It was stupid but... I don't know... Optimism? He was worrying me too much to take any chances. Something bad happened, and his mind immediately jumped to that. Almost the worst place he could have gone. And so, he ended up in a hospital hours away. Great. Fucking great.

Suddenly, I tensed as I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I glanced up to see an extremely pretty nurse wearing a tight skirt and a warm smile.

"He's going to be okay, you know," I could hear the smile in her melodious voice. "You can take him home tomorrow."
I smiled weakly at her, finding her emerald green eyes, fringed with dark lashes and delicate eyeliner, which ran shamelessly over my hunched body. She handed a card to me with a scribbled name and a series of numbers. Naomi.

"Call me..." She whispered in my ear seductively. "...if, uh, you need anything..." I watched as she straightened up.

"Thanks, but, uh, I don't play for your team."

I mentally scolded myself as my eyes lingered on her curvaceous body as she strutted away. You have a boyfriend. I shook my head and stood up, smoothing out my shirt. I pushed open the door to Mitch's hospital room and shoved the image of the nurse's silhouette out of my mind. I smiled as I entered the room. But my heart died once again. Mitch was lying there, attached to billions of tubes and cables. His arms were bandaged and his fists clenched. Kirstie sat in the chair next to him, trying her hardest not to cry as they whispered their conversation. She smiled at me and walked out of the room.

"Breathe, baby." At the sound of his weak, beautiful voice, I let go of the breath I hadn't realised I was holding in. I almost ran to his side and brushed his dark hair out of his beautiful eyes, kissing him gently. I took his hand in my mine and squeezed.

"I love you, Mitchie. More than life. More than existence. But you're killing me. Every time I look at you, lying here, a little bit of me dies. Like part of my soul is ripped into tiny little shreds and thrown into a burning fire. Like somebody is pushing a knife into me further and further each time. It feels worse than any possible physical pain I think exists and I wouldn't wish it on anybody. And yet, I can't imagine what you're feeling. You're lying there attached to so many cables and tubes you look like a freaking transformer and it's tearing me apart. You're usually so strong, so sassy. But it's like someone stole your personality.
Usually I can read you like a book, baby, but now you just look... broken. So, please. Please stop. Stop pretending like there's nothing wrong. Put me out my misery because I can tell, Mitch. I've known you for thirteen years. I can tell when you're happy, I can tell when you're sad, I can tell when you're angry. And, Mitchie, I can tell when you're scared out of you're wits. Just tell me what the hell is wrong so I can make it right. Please, Mitch." Tears of anger flowed down my face as I searched his empty eyes.

"He's back, Scott," Mitch's voice broke. "Travis is out." I flinched at his name, my hands shaking with anger and fear and anger.

"How? How, Mitch?" I yelled, my vision going blurry as tears flooded my eyes. I felt the blood beneath the scar on my hip pulsating with jealous rage.

Mitch had loved Travis. More than I'd seen him love anyone but me. If Travis was back... I was most likely screwed. Fuck, I'd even fancied Travis before. Before he blackmailed me. Before he manipulated me. Before he helped Alex rape me.

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Hey,

So I realise it's been ages (for me) since I wrote a chapter for this story because I wrote the first paragraph and then had a massive block. This chapter is longer than my other ones in exchange for that, but it probably needs editing, so comment on anywhere that I got something wrong.

Thanks

Stay #fcute