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Tommy woke up the next morning still feeling tired. He was emotionally drained from yesterday's events, and drained in all its entirety.
Tommy sat up in the bed and realized Nick wasn't in it anymore. He looked over and saw both Clay and George were gone aswell.
Where did they go? He wondered. They never usually left without waking him, or maybe they thought he needed the sleep.
He stretched his body. His arms and legs ached from being still. His face burned a little, he wondered why.
His wheelchair was placed perfectly beside the bed for him to get out of. He hated that wheelchair. He just wanted to walk again.
He maneuvered his way out of the bed and to the wheelchair. He plopped down in it and sighed.
He looked down to his shorts and t-shirt. You could see the scars on his legs and somewhat on his arms. Some from missions and some from home.
He sighed and decided that this outfit would have to do. He didnt feel like changing.
He made his way to the hall of the home and didnt hear any movement.
The silence was so loud he felt like screaming. Instead, he made his way down the hall.
He felt weird. He didn't feel real. He felt like the walls around him weren't real. That of course is stupid, if the walls weren't real, how could he see them, feel them?
The house seemed different. It didn't look different but it felt like everywhere he looked something about it changed.
He kind of felt very warm but cold at the same time. It was a strange feeling that he felt, but he didnt let the thought linger.
He soon heard a knock on the front door. His instincts told him to check it, but his hands wouldn't moved.
He waited for someone else to get the door.
No one came.
A knock came again, this time louder.
He heard no footsteps coming to get the door. He feared that if he answered the door, someone terrible would be on the otherside.
A knock came again, then a shout, "Is someone coming? I dont want to leave the package outside," they stated.
Tommy groaned and decided he was just going to answer the door.
Tommy pushed the wheels forward and unlocked the door.
He opened it to a mailman, or woman, in this case.
"Sorry ma'am, took me a minute to get out of bed." He lied, he wasnt going to tell the poor lady he had a mental breakdown about opening the door.
The woman took Tommy's figure in. Small, but lengthy, fragile frame but clear muscle was built, and not to mention the noticeable scaring all over him.
"Not to worry dear. I don't like to leave packages outside. Especially with how the world is these days," her accent was thick, southern, maybe.
"Thank you, do I need to sign?" Tommy asked, the lady shook her head.
"It's from out of state," she handed the box to Tommy and she smiled, "Have a good day." She said sweetly.
Tommy muttered a response and closed the door. He scanned the package. It was addressed to Wilbur Soot.
Hm, Ghost got a package aye? He thought, he sat the package down on a table.
When he sat the box down, there was a click. Tommy eyed the box wearily. He's heard that sound before, but where...
He didnt have time to think. The box turned into an assortment of colors.
A bomb.
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Word count: 617
Thank you for reading!
Sorry its short but I thought that would be a funny place to end.
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The Recovery Process.
FanfictionBook 2: The Recovery Process. Tommy was finally saved from being kidnapped. With his grandfather finally gone, Tommy could now focus on recovery. Not only going to therapy and school, he juggles being a now illegal assassin going against The Elite...
