Dear Diary | Proxies

xx. breakfast and long roads

Dear Diary,

Time to head home, one step at a time.

Jack's hands were gentle as they ran along my exposed ribs. I held my breath, trying to keep my shirt at a good angle while still remaining covered. His fingers prodded so softly that I had barely registered any pain before it was gone. He let out a low sigh and shook his head.

"They're not broken," he finally spoke. "They're most likely just bruised. I would say you should rest for a while, but considering your situation, that's not really an option." He turned and began rifling through the medicine cabinet behind me, fingers running along each bottle carefully. "You're staring," he said, a grin visible on his lips.

I couldn't deny that, but it just added to the questions I already had. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, wringing my hands in front of me. I really didn't want to be rude.

"You have questions," he stated. "Go ahead, ask away."

"How do you see?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. I went to apologize, stuttering over my words, but I was cut off by Jack laughing loudly, the chuckles bouncing off the walls as he folded in on himself slightly.

"You're fine," he responded, grabbing a bottle of cleaner and a box of bandages from the cabinet. "I can't see, per se," he spoke as he pulled my arm towards him, beginning to disinfect any cuts and scrapes I had. He knocked his foot on the ground again, letting the sound echo. "Think of it more like echolocation. I can't see in the sense of, I can't read or see color, but I can make out shapes. For instance, I can see that you've got a mohawk, but I have no clue what color it is. The ability extends as far as I can hear. Like, I know that in the next room, Natalie and Jane are making out. When I became a demon, my other senses were heightened extraordinarily to make up for the loss of my eyesight."

I nodded. "That's insanely cool. I don't think I've ever met someone who could do that, but I guess a normal human wouldn't be able to, huh?"

"No," he murmured, "it's a supernatural thing."

We were quiet for a moment. "So, how tall are you?"

He huffed jokingly, beginning to wrap bandages around my forearms, still so gentle. "Last I checked, I was six feet and eight inches."

"Jesus christ," I breathed out.

"No, my name's Jack." We both took a moment to laugh at his horrible joke. "Well, you'll be staying here for the night, so I'm offering my bed – I can take the couch – so you're more comfortable." I went to decline, discouragement already building from my throat, but he stopped me. "I say it's an offer, but it's really not. You need to rest correctly, and sleeping on the couch does not offer that. As the medical professional of the house, I'm telling you, you're sleeping on the bed."

I closed my mouth. "Okay," I whispered.

He hummed an affirmation and taped the bandage in place. "Any other questions?"

"Well, I guess my next question would be if I could borrow your phone to call my boys? Jane said I could borrow someone's; I could just do it while you're doing this."

Jack nodded. "Of course, who am I to get in the way of young love," he teased, pulling his flip-phone from his back pocket. The phone echoed whatever it was highlighted on as he handed it to me, obviously a setting for blind people.

I scrolled to his contacts first, passing by name after name, before stopping by Tim's name. 'Timothy Wright.' When was the last time I had seen someone use his full name? I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear patiently, skin practically buzzing as I waited, but he didn't answer the first or second time I called. I switched, trying to get Toby instead. 'Tobias Rodgers.' Two calls with no answer. 'Brian Thomas.' Two calls with no answer.