Just to Hold You Close and Tight

As soon as I was conscious, my eyes shot open and I looked around. I was still alive, at least. I immediately knew I was in a hospital. That was good. It meant Ray had accomplished something, helped me in some way. Maybe he would forget his notion that he belonged in hell.

There were three blurry figures around me. I blinked, and they came into focus. It was my mom, my dad, and Ray.

When I coughed, they turned their heads. “Amber!” both Ray and my mom exclaimed in unison.

This made me smile slightly. “Mom, Dad,” I said, but it hurt my chest. Not as much as it had before, though. It was just a short pang. I couldn’t say Ray’s name, do I looked at him pleadingly.

He looked away and remained seated while my parents got up and came to the side of my bed.

“Oh, honey,” my mom said. “Are you okay?”

“You tell me,” I rasped. “What’s the damage?”

“Broken hand, two broken ribs, a bruised back and face, and you’ll have a scar on your neck,” my dad said, reciting all of my injuries.

I nodded slowly.

“What happened to you?” my mom asked.

“A guy tried to rob me,” I replied, “but I didn’t have any money. This… upset him.”

They both looked at me sympathetically. Ray looked at the wall.

“Can I be alone?” I asked them. They looked a little confused, but they nodded.

“Ray,” I said as soon as they left the room. He ignored me. “Ray, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed, his face clean of expression.

“It. Was. Not. Your. Fault,” I said, separating each word. If it wasn’t for you, I might still be laying there.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place,” he replied sourly.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” I said angrily. “I would have walked to school, even if I never met you. You’re just blaming yourself because there’s nothing else you can do.” I have to admit, it was a low blow, but I really thought it was true.

Ray glared at me. He didn’t know what to say. I didn’t care if he was mad at me, as long as he didn’t feel guilty. Finally, he sighed. “How are you feeling?”

“Not that bad,” I said, although I was kind of lying. Everything hurt, but not as bad as it had before. Not nearly as bad.

He raised his eyebrows. “Let me rephrase that. What hurts, ad how bad?”

It took me a few seconds to evaluate how I actually felt. I decided I wasn’t going to lie and say I felt perfect. Instead, I said, “My back hurts… a lot. My neck and cheek are throbbing, and it hurts to breathe.”

He looked away and frowned. “What about your hand?”

Looking down at my hand, I saw that it was in a cast. “I didn’t even notice,” I said.

“You’re a really good liar,” he replied. “I almost believe you.” He looked at me smugly, and then quickly dropped his eyes.

I scowled. “No, I’m serious. It kills to talk and breathe, but I did not notice my hand was broken,” I said, a little annoyed. “And why won’t you look at me?”

He was silent for a minute before saying, “It hurts to look at you.”

“Oh, yeah?” I countered. “Well, it hurts me because you won’t look at me.”

“It can’t,” he shot back at me. “It can’t hurt nearly as much.”

I was silent. I wanted to say it did hurt as much, but I would have choked on my words. Without warning, tears were quietly streaming down my face.

After a few minutes, Ray finally looked to see why I hadn’t said anything. His empty face filled with concern, pain, and pity. He slowly walked towards me.