a chained heart

3 | friend-s h i p

David and Ron sat in the waiting area, observing Lawrence and Adam from afar. Lawrence was sitting on the edge of his bed with a pair of crutches at his side. He faced Adam the whole time, waiting for him to wake up.

David leaned in subtly towards Ron's ear, "Dude, I thought you said he has a wife."

"He does," Ron replied stiffly. "But what most people don't know is that they were in the middle of filing a divorce. What are you getting at anyway?"

"Well just look at the way he's looking at the kid!" David pointed.

"Larry is straight. He's my best friend, I would know," Ron said with a visible lack of confidence.

"Well maybe your gaydar is just off," David mumbled.

As Adam began to wake up, he was still unaware of where he was—he felt lost. As the haziness in his eyes started to melt away, he saw the color white surrounding him at all angles and immediately believed to still be in the bathroom.

He tried to sit up, but his heart started beating in his head as he struggled to move. He tried to cry out for help but all that surfaced was a weak groan. Lawrence perked up at the noise and waved the doctors over, "Guys, he's awake!" He got on his crutches and hovered over Adam's bedside.

Ron politely shooed Lawrence to the side, "Hold on. He was a mess when we found him. I need to quickly evaluate his mental state—just make sure he's not dangerous."

"Adam? Dangerous?" Larry scoffed.

Ron ignored him, waving his hand over Adam's face, "Hey, you know where you are?" He was beginning to get nervous that he would have to strap the kid down again.

Adam could finally see clearly. He saw the man in his face and his eyes went wide. This time, he sat up successfully. Ron placed a hand on Adam's shoulder and felt him flinch. Asking him the same question, he kept a calm tone, "Young man, do you know where you are?"

Adam finally took a second to breathe. His eyes darted back and forth as he swallowed hard before speaking, "I–I'm in a hospital." It came out as more of a question than a statement, but it was a start. Ron sighed with relief that Adam had finally become lucid.

"That's right," he smiled. "And what's your name?"

"Adam," his voice was scratchy and unused.

"Full name," Ron corrected him.

"Adam Faulkner Stanheight."

"Adda boy. And what's the last thing you remember?"

Adam looked down at his sheets, straining to recall the past few hours. The images flashing through his head made it hard to breathe.

I was shot.
I killed a man.
I was left alone.
I screamed.
Here I am now.
Alive.

Ron snapped his fingers and Adam looked up, "I—I don't remember," he lied.

"From the looks of it, you're alright." Ron looked to Larry as he walked off, "I'll leave you two alone now."

Adam turned to see who the doctor was talking to and saw the tall blonde approaching his bedside. His heart skipped a beat and his jaw dropped, "Lawrence?" he barely whispered.

"I came back—like I promised," Lawrence placed a hand on Adam's shoulder. Glancing down at it, he laid his hand lightly on it in return.

"Thank you," he sniffled. They stayed silent for a few seconds, still needing to process that they had made it out alive. "God, I just can't believe we are both here right now."

"I know," Lawrence replied lamely. He didn't know what to say. The kid always got him so choked up.

"How do I know this isn't a fever dream? That you didn't actually just die, and now I'm still stuck in there, making this all up in my head?"

The dark question stumped Lawrence for a minute before he responded, "I guess you'll just have to trust me."

A sweet nurse made her way towards them and they quickly moved their hands away from each other's. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you in the middle of something?" she cautiously asked.

The two men chirped a cacophony of embarrassed "no"s and waited for her to continue.

"Okay, well uh, it looks like," she paused, looking down at a clipboard, "Adam is ready to be discharged." She smiled.

"Oh," Adam gawked, turning his head to see Larry already looking down at him. He looked back to the nurse, "okay."

"I'll escort you to the front to fill out some paper work and set a follow-up appointment," she chirped while helping Adam stand up.

The two men could feel the tensioned question building between them as Adam prepared to walk away. Neither of them needed to ask it out loud. Are we ever gonna see each other again.

As the feet between them grew, the question in the air grew heavier and heavier. That is, until Adam turned around and gave Lawrence a reassuring smile. They both knew in that moment, that was defiantly not the last time they would see each other.

Adam made his way to the front desk and before he got to say anything, the ditsy nurse turned him to face her, "So sweetheart?"

"Uh, yeah?" Adam furrowed his brow with discomfort.

"Because you were on an anesthetic, you won't be allowed to drive home today, so we have a police escort waiting outside for you, alright?"

Adam didn't even bother explaining to her that he just got out of a Jigsaw trap, so his car was far from here. She was clearly on another planet, but he was relieved, "Okay, thank you."

Soon, Adam was filling out the necessary paperwork for the next check up. While he scribbled with the pen, he eavesdropped on the conversation happening behind the counter between two men.

"Did you hear? Apparently we took in two Jigsaw victims tonight."

"No way."

"Yeah! One of em got shot and is leaving today I guess, but the other one? He cut his fucking foot off dude."

"Holy shit, that poor bastard." They both giggled like school girls. Adam kept trying to focus on the papers. "When does he get to leave?" they continued to banter.

"Tuesday, but the guy can't drive. Someone will have to come get him. But the only thing is he's got no one in his records but his ex-wife and so—"

"I can come get him," Adam quickly interjected, snapping his head up from his clipboard and putting all of his attention to them.

The two men gave each other a funny look. One turned back to Adam, "And who might you be?"

Adam cleared his throat dramatically. "I'm Jigsaw-victim-number-one," he said with a snide tone.

"Oh!" he was visibly embarrassed. "Well, um, yeah if you're willing—"

"I'm willing," Adam cockily cut him off, lifting his hand in the air to say shut-up. "Well gents," Adam tossed the pen at them lightly, "see you Tuesday."

Smiling, Adam strutted out of the hospital to find his police escort waiting for him as promised. He gave the driver directions on the way, and was dropped off at his apartment. Thanking the officer, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and mad his way into the complex.

Adam found himself looking over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. The paranoia was settling in already. Gripping his door handle, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad to be back in my shithole apartment," Adam chuckled to himself before going inside and locking the door behind him. He checked again that it was locked. And one more time for safe measures.

He checked every window.

Twice.

Slightly more positive that he was safe, Adam plopped himself on the couch, letting his body go slack and melting into the cushions.

"Tuesday," he sighed, staring up at the ceiling before falling asleep.