I'm Dying To Live (Rewriting)

Chapter 13

"Jack," I asked tentatively, before the door to his room had even shut properly. I was so grateful that he had been put in his own secluded room, away from the ward and the public and prying eyes and ears. All I wanted was to be able to speak to him privately. I don't know how other patients coped being on a ward with so many other people and families around constantly.

He didn't answer me. He didn't even look up. He just lay there staring at the ceiling with so much intensity I was expecting it to fall on him.

I took a few steps closer to him, standing at the foot of the bed, biting my lip. "How are you feeling?"

"I fell down the stairs, you know," he said suddenly, eyes staring threw me with the same amount of intensity as before, like he was inspecting me. I felt like I was under a microscope and Jack was trying to pull me apart and figure me out.

I didn't know what to say so I just nodded and pressed my mouth into a grim smile. "Yeah."

He looked away from me and continued staring at the ceiling. I made my way to the chair situated at his side and settled myself down, keeping an eye on him. He was freaking me out.

"The doctors said you have a couple fractured ribs, a-"

"I don't care," he said dismissively.

"But I'm just-" He closed his eyes slowly and scratched his head, a habit of exasperation.

"Lex please, I honestly don't care. I don't want to know. I don't even want to be here. I don't want to know."

I bit my lip and looked away, before looking back at him. "Are you alright?"

He just nodded.

"Are you in any pain?"

He laughed, but it was devoid of emotion. "I can't feel anything at all." The glazed over look in his eyes told me he wasn't joking.

"What have the nurses said to you?"

"Nothing too interesting." He closed his eyes. "I wasn't really listening."

I didn't say anything more. He was making it increasingly difficult to hold conversation so I just kept silent, thinking. I mean, it wasn't surprising; if I was in his position I wouldn't want to talk to anyone either.

I wondered if he was even aware that I was still present. I knew he was awake, as he kept moving his hands to scratch at his hair and his eyes unconsciously, and he kept tugging on his ears, all of which were nervous twitches that I had grown to know and understand. The thing was, I didn't know what was making him nervous. I didn't know him.

I didn't know if he was worried about his injuries, or if he felt increasingly uncomfortable in hospital environments, or if he was worried about someone. It was really agitating actually.

"Are you okay?" came a tired voice, and I looked up to see Jack peering at me curiously under drooping eyelids. "You keep fidgeting. Stop thinking so hard."

I didn't say anything, I just nodded and sighed inaudibly, watching my knee bounce as I forced myself to relax into my chair. From the corner of my eye I could see Jack staring at me still, and a couple seconds later a hand was resting on my leg.

"I recall saying stop thinking," he said softly, raising an eyebrow at my slowly. "When I get out I'm going to cut your brain out so you'll finally be at peace." He pulled a face and huffed out a half laugh. "That sounded really creepy but whatever. I'm pretty sure you get what I mean."

I let myself offer him a small smile which he struggled a little to return, and we sat in silence. None of us wanted to talk, but we were still happy with each other's company. I could feel how grateful Jack was of my presence even if he didn't voice it. And I was equally as happy with his, even though he could choose to move if he wanted to.