Punk's Not Dead

"Oh for Fuck sakes!" I exclaimed, breaking apart from Johnny, who just giggled at the whole scene.
I glared at Sid's unconscious body and part of me wanted to go over there and kick him repeatedly.
I managed to retain myself from doing so, remembering what Rotten had said and hoping that he was right.

"C'mon help me...we might as well get 'im off the floor." Johnny said, grabbing hold of Sid's feet.
I groaned, rolling my eyes. "I'd much rather leave him where he is..." I mumbled, walking over and grabbing Sid's wrists and tugging him off the ground. Still quite unconscious, Sid's head lolled limply back.

"Ready?" Rotten asked, as we led Sid to the couch and sprawled him out on the lumpy cushions.
"I guess I'd better keep an eye on him." Johnny said, plopping himself down in the chair next to him, causing a bit of stuffing to fall out from the bottom.

"Are you sure you're going to waste your sleep on him?" I asked, looking over to the ever-sleeping Sid in disgust. "Don't worry, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway...b'sides what if he decides to fuck off in the morning? We don't want that do we?" He said, giving me a wink.

I shook my head, giggling slightly. "Do as you wish...I'm going to try and get some sleep...It's been rough."

I gave the room one last glance. Sid was still passed out, drool pooling down his face. You would almost say he was dead if it wasn't that every ten seconds or so he would spazz a bit, his arm giving a twitch, or his legs kicked out in midair. I could feel the anger boiling up inside of me again, and so I decided to take a shower, hoping to calm my nerves enough to fall asleep.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. I lay in bed tossing and turning, incapable to take my mind off Maxi.
Visions of her bruised and broken body, laying defeated on the gurney. Tubes and wires, leading to machines and bags of nutrients, stuck out in every which way.

Eventually sleep won, knocking me into a most needed slumber.