Hate Me. (On Hiatus)

Day 38: Sorry Isn't Good Enough

Day 38: Sorry Isn't Good Enough



Fox's POV:

I was slowly losing hope on Ella waking up. Each day dragged by, yet there was no change. Ella just lay in her hospital bed expressionless and without ever moving. The doctor's said she might not wake up for months, or maybe even years. I tried to keep faith and hold her hand while she lay dormant, I had even persuaded the doctor's to let Luca in a couple of times so that I could try and get her to wake up, but it never worked. Luca was missing his owner, and I was missing Ella. Apparently people in comas can hear some things that you say, and I hope that Ella heard Luca and I.

Her father had been furious when the doctors told him what had happened and the situation with Jesse Scott; it has been a week since and no one has seen him. It made me wonder how he was venting his anger, and what impact it was having on others if it did.

I pressed the buttons in the vending machine and keenly watched like a hawk as the coil slowly turned, and a can of coke thudded at the bottom where I collected it. I didn't bother pressing the button to get my change, and I made my way back to Ella's room.

I hadn't showered in several days, and I knew that soon enough the hospital staff would chuck me out. Admittedly, I couldn't continue like this is Ella was going to wake up in months, but I wanted to be at her side when she finally did open her eyes. Was that too much to ask for?

"Hey, beautiful," I say as I sit back down in my chair that is right beside Ella's bed. It was hard and uncomfortable, especially to sleep in, but I dealt with it. I was grateful that it was now the half-term holidays as it meant that I had an excuse to spend all of my time with Ella.

There was no reply, and I slurp at my coke as I ponder everything that was going on. Tom, Ella's dead younger brother who had made a habit out of visiting me to persuade me to help Ella 'find out why', hadn't made an appearance since the day after the accidence. I hadn't even felt his presence. It puzzled me, to say the least, as I had grown used to Tom randomly popping up at different times of the day.

"Ella, please don't go away," I wanted nothing more than for her to wake up. I didn't want her to stay comatose forever. I missed hearing her laugh, her smile. Hell, I even missed the way she shouted at me when she was annoyed with me.

There was just something dark about the way that Tom insists that she needs to 'find out why' and makes us watch the news when the Jack the Ripper-like crimes take place. It all had to link up somehow.

Ella's father seemed to recognise the name 'Jesse Scott', and he was by far more angry than me, and that's saying something. He had to know that man, otherwise the way he reacted couldn't be explained feasibly.

I stared up at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching my teeth with frustration. Ella came with a whole load of baggage that has completely messed up my head. But despite this, I'm glad that she came into my life. I've been exposed to things that I never imagined I would be, and at the same time I feel a bit like an action hero. I plan to help her work everything out, and I'm glad that Tom initially came to give me a kick up the backside.

"Wake up soon, then we can find out why," I tell her as I trace my finger down her nose, around her lips and along her jaw.

What scares me is that I don't know when 'soon' is, nor do I know if 'soon' will actually come. I hated the uncertainty that surrounded Ella, but I'm determined one day we'll solve it all and make everything okay.



*****

John's POV:

My grip tightened even further around Jesse's throat. "No one hurts my daughter except me." I speak in my most menacing voice, and Jesse knows that I have all the power in the world over him. I had slammed him against the wall, and the bricks were beginning to turn red as he coughed up blood.

"I'm sorry, John, really, I'm sorry," he says, gasping for breath as my hand closes his airways. He knows that I am fuming, and that my temper was like a volcano - this time it was erupting with more force than anyone had ever predicted.

My hand dug into his throat before I threw him onto the concrete floor. "Well, sorry just isn't good enough." I snarled, and I kicked the side of his head a few times. His arms moved up in a feeble attempt to try and defend himself. Usually, he was the formidable opponent, but we both knew that I was a lot stronger than him.

I grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him up, the fabric slightly ripping, before I began punching him in the gut over and over again. A huge feeling of joy and satisfaction made a crooked smile form on my face as I winded him time and time again, his body jolting back into the wall and his eyes squeezing together as he grimaced in pain.

Finally, I shake his weak body and stare at him in the eye, looking between each of his terrified eyes a few times before saying, "Sorry is never good enough."