Black and Blue

13 - I Try to Avoid Some Feelings

All this vague, borderline possessive bullshit gave me a lot to think about later that night.

I understood what he was trying to say. At least, I was pretty sure I did. I got that he'd been alone for so many years, and maybe trying to thrust him back into the world and make him a functioning member of society wasn't the best idea. I understood why he felt that we only needed each other, however strongly I disagreed. I really did mean what I'd said; he needed other people in his life, whether he liked it or not.

I sighed and stared at the clock on my desk, watching the seconds tick by. It was 9:00 already. Not that that was unbearably late, but it felt like a punch to the gut knowing the rest of the day had gone by so quickly.

I guess getting him another friend would be a lot easier said than done.

I buried my face in my pillow, trying to drown out all these conflicting thoughts. Why couldn't I stop thinking about it? Why was it bothering me so much? We'd grown so close to each other that Morgan and Leigh thought we were a couple. Jack was able to brush it off so easily, as if he wasn't even taking their questions in! So why did I feel so put off, hours after we left?

There was a knock at my door.

I started, accidentally punching my alarm clock off the desk. Chills were spreading across my arms now for no reason I could place. I looked to my window; no draft. My body temperature seemed to have just gotten knocked down a couple degrees. Taking a shudder of a breath, I grabbed the closest thing to a sweater off my floor and threw it on, rubbing my eyes as I made my way downstairs.

Through a window in the living room, I could see snow falling onto the grass in sheets. Answering the door this late was probably a bad idea, but I gulped and tried to think optimistically. Maybe some worn traveller was looking for a place to stay for the night, what with the unexpected storm, and nobody else would let them in. Maybe it was a friend who'd forgotten something here, maybe it was...

I opened the back door as my visitor sent another barrage of knocks to see a familiar blue mask and dark, heavily torn hoodie.

I stifled a yawn with my hand, an ominous feeling creeping up my back the longer I looked at him. Neither of us said a word. I realized just then that I didn't know which side of him was going to be behind that mask if I let him in, especially around this time of day. I blinked.

"You again?"

You'd better not be "hungry," or anything like that.

Nothing. He just stared blankly for a while before falling into my arms, gasping for air. I let out a yelp of surprise.

"Jack! What are—"

"Ah, sorry, sorry, you just..." He lifted his head, turned away, and coughed. Violently.

"...y-you said I could've knocked."

"How bad is it," I breathed, not sure there was room for any other explanation; he'd been possessed again. He'd hurt himself again, in some fit of rage or maybe to drive the "boss" off. He was completely limp against me, bits of his clothes charred—not that you could tell from looking—and chunks of his hair ripped out. Without waiting for an answer, I started dragging him inside.

"Okay. Okay, okay, okay..." I whispered to myself, looking frantically around the kitchen for something to lay his body on while I assessed the damage. There was no way in hell I could drag him all the way upstairs, where he would get somewhat proper help, but I knew I was going to have to do it eventually. I spied the sink's tap through the darkness, switched on the lights, and rested Jack's head on a nearby chair leg.