The Zig Zagger

Oh no you didn'8!

It took us the better part of the afternoon but we did it. We found Sasha alright.

You'd think that calls would do it, but good old popping into hospitals did it. Also, the fact that pretty much only I know his legal name didn't help.

I made sure to whisper it discreetly at the umpteenth front desks or so, so as not to embarrass him in front of his cronies. Dead or alive, I'm good for that.

"Do you mind confirming your relation to_ _ _," said name has been redacted for social reasons. At our current hospital, we hit the jackpot right here; they lead me and the twins to him.

I won't lie, but I am expecting the worst. The car was banged up pretty bad. Then again the fact that he's alive is a step-up. For a prevailing couple of hours, the morgue was still an option.

A monotone blue curtain is drawn open to reveal a stationary figure. It takes a little longer to identify him for his face is bruised black and blue but it really is him.

We are all silent for a long look-back-at-your-life type of minute. I am so anxious that I am unsure how to function right now.

"Hey buddy," Liam, the first of us to make a move, steps up.

Twain carries on, "How are you feeling?"

I almost cannot speak.

Still, "Sasha...you look like...shit!"

"It's nice to see you too," he extends a strong looking arm my way. I'm literary halfway down to embrace him or whatever when a partition is drawn some place not too far from us. It's adjacent is what it is.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Some random despicable person, for that is what they probably are, retorts.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked who the fuck are you?!"

Oh no he didn't!

At the drop of a hat I am in literal transit to step up, nostrils flared, hair flipped and swishing up a kinetic storm, chin up top a puffed chest, stance..., well you get it, but something stops me. It's nothing psychological, emotional or such rather it's a hand.

This is fast becoming a hand fest and I am not sure I like it.

"Jody didn't mean that," the hand bearer conveys as the twins also attempt to intervene. I can't be that strong, right? "Kid you better apologize this instant."

"She didn't mean that either," Sasha croaks.

Uh-uh that's it!

"Let go of me," I ward of the now numerous appendages gripping my form. When they seem reluctant to let go of me, "I possibly wouldn't think of harming someone clearly so...incapacitated."

Jody, as ascertained, gulps quite audibly when I am set free not unlike a time bomb. "I'm sorry miss..."

I surmise that the kid was in some sort of skating accident, a torn up board lies at the foot of his bed. His arm is in a fresh cast but other than a few visible scrapes he seems intact.

"...Penelope," I smile deviously, "and I'm sorry too Jody."

"It's whatever," Jody conveys and proceeds to draw back the partition. Wow. You gotta love teenagers am I right? They are the future.

"How about you have a seat," Twain draws a seat as Liam presses my stiff form onto a chair fit for a hospital visitor. I ought to remember my place here.

"So..." the hand bearer from before so clearly seeks my audience, "Penelope is it?"

Who is this guy I almost ask, but am I really ready for a round 2? "Yeah."

"No like really," indescribably colored eyes laced with insurmountable mischief pierce into my own, "Who the fuck are you?"

I see. He beat me to it.

Within the span of a heartbeat, a partition is drawn, and not even Liam's arms and Sasha's lullaby of a voice could have stopped me.

But, they do.

Then again, I'm really not a rampage of a person anyway.