Wake of the Dead | One

Chapter thirty-three

Waking up with a violent jolt, Jasper bolted to his feet and instantly grasped the hunting knife on his bed stand, grabbing his attacker by the throat and slamming them against the closest wall, pressing the blade hard into their skin. Adrenaline raced through his veins, a cold sweat on his forehead and the blood roaring in his ears. "I'll fucking kill you!" Jasper yelled savagely, gritting his teeth into a vicious snarl.

"Hey man, Jasper, it's me!" Darren's voice choked, struggling beneath Jasper's grasp. Jasper knit his brows together with confusion for a few seconds, his gaze wandering around the room. His heavy breathing was the only other thing he could hear. Otherwise, the room was completely silent. Birds sang and chirped outside as the sun began to slowly peak over the horizon.

When his mind began to clear and his eyes finally focus on the person in front of him, Jasper immediately let go of Darren, but the knife was still clenched in his hand. He staggered a few steps back, a hand on his forehead, and sat down on his new bed. Panting to catch his breath and calm down, he felt a warm hand gently pry his away from the knife as Darren set it on the bedside table again. "Jesus dude," Darren breathed, eyes wide and face pale. "You almost killed me."

"Yea, well don't wake me up like that." Jasper quipped, breath shaking as he stared down at the floor. Running a hand through the tuft of hair on his head, his hand paused and gripped onto it hard. He shut his eyes tight, body shaking. "Don't ever do that again," He said gruffly, "Please, don't ever do that again."

It had been three weeks since he'd left Killian. Jasper hadn't slept well ever since. Nightmare after nightmare, phantom gunshots in the distance, random bursts of anger and hatred for those around him that didn't completely deserve it. Sometimes at night, he could have sworn he'd seen the distance flashes of gunfire. Spacing out was becoming all too common, he couldn't find it in himself to focus.

The other man held up his hands defensively, nodding and keeping his voice calm and even, "Okay, okay. I'll remember that." He hesitantly reached out and moved Jasper's hand away from his head. "Don't rip your hair out." He added. "That wouldn't be very fortunate." Jasper wanted to chuckle along with his friend, but instead he was beginning to feel sick.

The door burst open, and Jasper's hand flashed towards the knife on impulse, barely being able to hold himself back. Aubrey stomped into the room, arms crossed. "What in the hell is going on in here?" The red-headed girl demanded, glaring at him and Darren in turn. Jasper hated the way her scrutinizing gaze burned into his skin, hating how skittish he suddenly felt. He needed to leave the room. The walls were trapping him in, making it hard to breathe.

The girl's gaze faltered as soon as Jasper stood up, grabbing his new jacket let hanging on the door handle on the way out of his room. His surroundings began to melt away, leaving his head reeling. Unable to focus, he barely avoided tripping on the stairs to the lower floor of the house. Passing the kitchen, Jasper pushed his way through the front door and onto the veranda, leaning forwards against the rail and taking in a deep gasp of fresh air. All of the tension left his body, and his eyes closed for a few moments. Laying his forehead against his arms, Jasper gradually began to calm his churning stomach. 

The screen door to the farmhouse the group was now sheltered in creaked open and slammed shut again. Sturdy footsteps thumped up beside him, and he could feel a large man beside him. Tom. He was completely silent, just standing beside Jasper. That silence was only broken once Jasper lifted his head, gazing out across the field laying before him. "I know you miss the kid," Tom said softly, "I'm sorry-"

"Bullshit." Jasper interrupted bluntly. His brows furrowed, a frown tugging at his lips. "None of you are sorry. It's too late for your apologies; none of you ever did anything to make him feel welcome." Jasper was surprised by his own cold, abrasive behavior. Rubbing his temples he muttered, "At least, the others. You tried."