Ultraviolet ✔️

24.1

Chapter Twenty-Four

This is what I know. I know that I am twenty. I know that I was shot in the leg by a man I once considered a friend. I know that I almost died today. I know that Joel Reed, the man I love, was shot in the chest and may never wake up. I know that Stan Walsh has been gifted with ungodly abilities. I know that he is now in jail and charged with two counts of attempted murder. I also know that there are others like me, others who can do terrible and strange things.

I know that everything in my life is changing and I don't know if it's for the better.

I also know that I'm in a hospital waking up after who knows how long. I shoot up in bed almost immediately, my heart rate spiking and the monitor going wild. The nurse beside me, an older woman with blue eyes and blonde curls, immediately sets my chart down and widens her eyes.

"Whoa, easy there, doll," my nurse says, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Calm down a bit."

"Joel!" I screech. "My boyfriend— he was shot. I need to know if he's okay! He has to be okay! Is he alive? Did he make it?"

She shushes me, smoothing my hair down. "Breathe, honey. You've been through a lot."

"I don't matter!" I cry out. "Please, just tell me if he's alive. I just want to know that much."

"Okay, okay," she says. "I'll go check the database for a Joel. Last name?"

"Reed," I tell her. "His name is Joel Reed."

She nods. "Alright. I need you to stay still. That leg of yours is in bad shape. I need you not to move or try to get up or you could cause more damage. Understood?"

"Yes."

I watch her walk away and look around at my surroundings. The room is pretty small, fairly standard. It's just another generic place, somewhere on the fourth floor according to the number by my door. I've been in the hospital far too much for my own good. Despite it all, I'm not focused on myself, I'm so preoccupied with worrying about Joel that I don't have the energy to think about how I'm doing.

When she returns, the anxiety has all but killed me.

"There's a Joel Reed checked into the ICU," she says. "Just got out of surgery. I can take you to see him later, but the police would like to ask you questions first if that's alright."

It kills me to say it, but I whisper, "I don't need to visit. He's better... he's better if I stay away."

I don't know when I decided it, but I'm firm on my choice. He's better if I don't try to put myself back in his story. He made it past the fate of my vision for reasons no one can be too sure of. I need to keep my distance. I need to leave.

"Are you sure?" she asks.

I think so. "Yeah, I am."

When the officer comes in, I'm much calmer, ready to tell him what happened. The story is painful, a bit hazy too, and I'm struggling to recall every intricate detail of the incident. Eventually, I decide it's probably best that I can't remember most of it. When he asks why Stan targeted me, I tell the officer that I'm not certain. I must be pretty convincing because he doesn't push me any further for answers.

Once he gets my full statement, his final question is whether or not Stan was working alone.

Out of loyalty to both Betsy and Joel, who did not know what they were doing at the time of their involvement, I lie and tell him yes.

That's all the officer needs to hear. With that, he leaves the room, and I'm finally alone again.

I settle back into the pillows, and even though rest is impossible, I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. It's my way of protecting myself from the outside world.