|Eight|

•Week Five• (2)

(Okay, lots of trigger warnings bc this one is.... Uh.... Not good.

SO TW: ANGST A LOT OF ANGST AND BEFORE YOU ANGST LOVERS GET EXCITED ITS NOT THE GOOD KIND OF ANGST I SWEAR! Knife, blood transfusion, Jack is dying hhhhhhh

Okay, and the major tw: mentions of suicide. This will also be mentioned in the next chapter, so I'm really sorry guys.

Remember that you matter and I love you and if you ever need to talk, I will answer because you guys mean the world to me)

After what seemed like a hundred bad hours, we managed to stop Jack's bleeding. Doctor Rolio hooked him up to a blood transfusion machine and a blood warmer, reassuring Ryan and I everything was going to be fine.

I didn't believe him.

How could everything be fine? I killed two people and almost got Jack killed in the process. If I just hadn't left, or if I hadn't used that knife, none of this would've happened. Jack would've recovered from the poison faster, and he wouldn't be on the verge of death.

Death.

Jack was dying. He was dying and I couldn't do anything.

My knife felt heavy in my pocket, almost as if I used it on Jack. I might as well have.

Ryan was holding Jack's hand, slightly trembling still. He hadn't stopped crying since he found Jack in the basement. I felt like I was crying, but I wasn't. The pain was so unbearable I couldn't bring my body to do anything. My eyes were completely dry, drained of any emotion. That somehow made things worse. I felt like a robot, like I didn't actually care about what was happening. I did. I really did so why couldn't I show it? Jack was dying right in front of me and all I could do was stare at him, completely numb.

Ryan seemed to notice my distress and tried to gently reassure me it was okay.

Nothing was okay, though. It's my fault Jack's in this condition, and it's my fault we couldn't get him the help he needed faster. The worst part? My body refused to show any signs of remorse

Is this what it feels like to be a killer? Do murderers lose all signs of sympathy?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-

I was grieving. Cold-hearted killers don't feel anything like this. I'm not like them.

You got your brother killed. You are a cold-hearted murderer, you've hurt everyone you once loved.

I didn't mean to hurt anyone... I love Ryan and Jack, I always have. That's what started all of this in the first place. I care about them.

Maybe......... Maybe you did once. Before all of this

I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing. I was arguing with that tiny voice in my head, because they were wrong. I still care about my brothers and I always will. Why was I trying to convince myself otherwise? Just because I couldn't figure out how to show my feelings of grief, didn't mean they weren't there....... Right?

I shook my head. I had to shut my thoughts out. I didn't want to think anymore.

~

An hour must've passed by now. I had lost feeling in my body from sitting next to Jack's new hospital bed for so long, and now I had completely lost track of time.

Ryan had fallen asleep, laying his head down on one of Jack's pillows, and Doctor Rolio had gone with police to find more packets of blood that matched Jack's blood type. I was told to stay with them and keep the door locked for everyone. (Besides Doctor Rolio)