Won't Turn Out Right

It was dark for a little while as I drifted in silence. I felt air being forced into my mouth, down my throat, and into my lungs. Then suddenly, there was a wave of light that flashed over me, barely a pulse or beat. Something deep inside of me pounded loudly, shaking my body.

I took in a big gulp of air, gasping and clawing at my throat.

I was back.

Everything hurt. Again.

I opened my eyes slowly, letting out a scratchy groan. Matt's face was hovered above mine, his mouth slightly open and eyes narrowed at me.

"You died. Less than a minute... but you died." I swallowed loudly then tried to clear my throat with a cough. Matt took his face away. "You're too... delicate." I just sat there breathing, dazed.

I was laying in my usual bed, the same scene that I had become accustomed to over the course of at least a week.

"So, you gave me... mouth to mouth?" I took in another deep breath. He narrowed his eyes.

"So what?" I opened my mouth, thinking of something to say.

"You killed me." He chuckled, relaxing his face.

"Sure did. You're too delicate."

"But then you saved me?"

"Would you like me to kill you again? Or are you gonna thank me?" I said nothing. "If you say nothing I'll assume it's the former."

"I should be taken to a hospital."

"Oh, suck it up. People have been through worse. We're not taking you to a hospital." I looked down at my body. There was a hole in my stomach, showing my insides, pink, white, and red. I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me, and I held back a heave. I rested my hands on top of my wound, trying to have some sort of control over the blood and the pain.

"I won't recover from this. Not this, Shadows." He frowned. I noticed his hand twitch as, I'm sure, he held back the urge to hit me.

"Shut up." He stood up and walked away, kicking over a chair in his path, and slamming the door shut behind him.

I started to cry.

-*-

A couple hours later, Brian came in carrying a handful of gauze and bandages and iodine. He sat on the bed next to me, dousing me in antiseptic and ignoring my silent crying. He covered my whole stomach tightly with bandages. Then, he started on my legs, some parts were purple and brown and red, but on other parts you could still see my naturally tanned skin. When he was done, he just sat there watching me. I sniffled, trying to avoid his eyes.

"Thank you." I saw him nod slightly out of the corner of my eye. "Why are you the way you are?"

"What do you mean?" I finally looked up at him.

"How did you find yourself living with the likes of Shadows? Why did you start stealing and killing? Was it... was it your family? Did it have something to do with your family?" His eyes flashed.

"Why would you ask that?" I shrugged.

"I don't know. Why aren't you answering?"

"What's happened happened. It can't be changed. So, why bring it up? Why can't I live now?"

"Let someone remember you when you're gone." He frowned.

"You're not dying."

"I never said I was."

"People who think they're dying always like to dwell on the concept. Ever heard of the five stages?"

"Everyone is dying. Everyone dies. I'm just dying a lot quicker. Tell me your story so I don't have to linger on my own."

"No. My story doesn't matter."

"Everything matters."

"Nothing matters. People don't matter, life doesn't matter, death is just another thing. It happens. It happened. It will happen. Nothing matters and then we die."

"You're wrong, Brian."

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name."

"It's the past."

"Your past makes you who you are."

"So, you've just answered your own question." I let my mouth hang open slightly. We held each other’s eyes. His brown eyes were sad, his brows turned down to match his frown.

"Why are you so sad?" His face lightened, relaxing.

"I'm not."

"Why can't you talk it out? I'm listening." He grit his teeth.

"Stop trying to be good."

"I'm not. I just want to help."

"Have you reached bargaining? Or is this denial? Are you finally at acceptance and trying to focus on other people's problems?"

"I just want to help."

"You don't want to know." Neither of us spoke for a while, until I finally decided to say something.

"When I died, I had... a dream. Shadows told me I was dead for less than a minute, but I had a dream that lasted hours. And you were there. You were all there." He stared with curiosity. "You were so sad, Brian. Please, just tell me. Did it have to do with your family?" He stood up. "Wait, please don't go." He closed his eyes, and started to walk away. "Wait! Please! Please don't leave me! I don't want to be alone again! Please don't leave!" I started to cry again pathetically. He shut the door behind him silently as I wailed and screamed and cried.

-*-

"How old are you?" Johnny asked the kid. He stop bouncing his legs and looked over at him.

"Sixteen." Johnny nodded.

"What'd you do?" The kid shrugged.

"I was kicking over garbage cans." Johnny chuckled as the kid flushed just a little.

"What's your name, kid?"

"My name's Josh... but call me Cole. Everyone does." Johnny chuckled again. "What's your name?"

"Call me Johnny."

"What did you do?" Johnny hesitated.

"I was speeding." Cole bit his lip.

"They wouldn't... Okay." Johnny nodded, glad he was smart enough not to probe the situation.

"Have you been to jail before?" The kid nodded enthusiastically.

"Twice before this." Johnny frowned.

"Stop. Stop goofing off. Stop doing everything wrong. You don't want this, Cole. You do not want this. This is no life to live. This is no life to look up to. Get straight, kid. Stop giving people a reason to think you're useless. Help people. Don't end up like the rest of the guys in these cells. We don't want this either." Cole stared hard at Johnny.

"But-"

"Danvers, Joshua. Bail's been set." The doors creaked open, and the officer stood there expectantly. Cole looked up at him then back at Johnny. He stood up slowly and started towards the doors. He looked back one last time at Johnny.

"Thanks." Johnny nodded, and the cop took him away, leaving Johnny alone, but not lonely.