Those Worse Off Than You

Doctors came in and out of the room all night. Mostly talking to my mother. Or asking me if I had any pains anywhere. Ace just watched them; his eyes nervously followed their every move.

I felt discusting; as if I weren't even in my own skin. I felt awkward; dirty; over-exposed. I felt like asking 'why'. But I didn't. The room was silent- no one knew what to say. Almost as if any words would ruin the moment, or only upset someone.

Hour after hour passed. The evening had driften into late night, or early morning; I couldn't tell. My mother worried herself to sleep and kept dozing off; as did I. But everytime I woke up, Ace was always looking at me, the bedsheets, or his hands- but he was always awake. He looked tired: his eyes were red and bags were forming under his eyes. But, you could tell he was restless- he was thinking about something.

"What's wrong," I asked in a whisper.

He looked up. Perhaps he hadn't realized I was awake. "Just thinking about something."

"I can tell that much. What about?"

It took him a while to answer. "It's my fault," he muttered.

"Not, Ace- it's not. Don't... don't even think that. You helped me: you pretty much saved my life- that's all that matters to me."

"I shouldn't have run off."

I didn't answer- I was too busy thinking. "Ace- why did you run off? Angel doesn't understand what he did wrong. I don't understand what he did wrong."

He looked down at his hands again. "It wasn't Angel... It was the water."