These Are the Lies I Have Created

I fell in and out of consciousness; but I woke up in an unfamiliar hotel room. I felt like I had been run over by a truck. Sounds roared like thunder in my ears. I curled up, but let out a squeak of pain. My entire body tensed and shook with pain. My ribs, my chest, my head and my legs. “Fu-uck,” I hissed. I slowly opened my swollen eyes, squinting in the bright hotel light. “God fucking dammit, what happened?” My voice was hoarse, from screaming. I couldn’t exactly make out the figure in front of me; but I thought it might be Shannon. “Shannon?”

“Huh? No, it’s Gerard.” The bed swelled and sank as Gerard sat down on the edge next to me.
“Your brother had a date, I offered to take care of you until he got back...” It took awhile for me to be able to comprehend each syllable and vowel; put them together to form a word and understand what it was that was being said to me through the roaring in my ears. It was even harder to get out a word. “Oh,” was the best I could muster.

“How are you feeling?”
“Like I got run over by a sixteen wheeler, and then mauled by a bear,” and that was an understatement. Gerard frowned, and shook his head. “We gotta get you to a hospital.”
I knew that was probably necessary, but with the media crawling around I didn’t want this to be a big issue. “And call the police,” Gerard added, gnawing on his bottom lip.
I sighed loudly, “Alright, alright. But I’m only going in hopes they’ll give me heavy drugs.”
Gerard’s face lightened a little and he got off the bed, trying to figure out how to get me up.

“On a scale of one to ten, how fucking awful do I look?” I asked. Even my jaw hurt, and I kept wincing whenever I spoke. Inch by inch, Gerard helped me out of the bed. His arm wrapped around my waist and my arm went around his shoulders. “On a scale of one to ten?” He laughed softly and looked me over, “Worse than you looked in Fight Club.”
I laughed, I didn’t think that was possible. “I must look pretty bad then.”
I could feel blood matted in my hair. My right eye was swollen almost shut. Every time I licked my lips, I tasted blood. Blood from my nose trailed down my chin. My ribs were bruised, and possibly broken. I didn’t know how I was still alive; but I’m Jared Leto. I’m not killed that easily.

It was a long, painful process but we eventually made it to the emergency room. They took me right in, apparently I looked like chewed up meat. The x-rays were not fun. Being casted wasn’t fun. Re-breaking bones so they would set right was not fun. Eventually, I was wheeled into a hospital room where I was allowed to sleep. It was near five in the morning and they expected me to sleep with the constant beeping of a heart monitor above my head. Gerard was sitting in the corner, his eyes glued to the monitor.

“You should go get some rest, I’ll be fine here. They’re going to give me a wheel chair... and some crutches. I’ll be fine. I can call Shannon when I need to be picked up.”
But there went that look of rejection again. Gerard rubbed his sleepy eyes and shook his head. “You sure you don’t want me to stay? T-there’s coffee here, I don’t mind staying.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and sighed, I didn’t have it in my heart to say no to him.
“If you really, really want to stay, you can.”