Shards

Chapter 9

"Fuck off," I say, the words escaping my mouth before my brain has looked them over or even processed them. Thankfully they are quiet, and although I can tell Jamie has heard them from the slight faltering of his wide smile, we silently agree to pretend that they were never there. 

His arms wrap around me, warm and, against my will, comforting. I am tense, the words that Jamie maybe did not hear still hanging in the air near my head, lingering like a bad smell. 

"You're safe," he whispers into my hair, somehow managing not to care how greasy it currently is. I push him away, meeting his eyes, internally wincing when I find that his expression is nothing if not one of pain. 

"You aren't," I respond quickly. My voice does not shake, but I feel as if it should. 

"I am," he contradicts. "There's nothing out here. Everyone up and left--couldn't be safer."

I shiver, half from the cold and half from the deep sadness his casual words have reminded me of. "You need to go back to the hospital."

"I'm not leaving you alone," he says without hesitation, and the loyalty in his tone comes so easily and feels so right that it catches me off guard, shifting me a step away with the weight of the words. 

"You must," I say. He must. Surely, Jamie would know that too. Surely he would know that this mission will very likely not end in anything good. Why would he still want to go with me? Maybe he doesn't know what I'm doing. Maybe he just thinks I'm exploring the town. 

I know that's not what he thinks, but also maybe I don't, because I don't know Jamie. Part of me wishes I did, but I don't, and that isn't going to change in the next five minutes before I am off to cross the bridge I never wanted to see again. 

His hand reaches for me, gripping onto my forearm. I watch his fingers wrap around my arm, tense, unable to move. 

My gaze slowly moves up to meet his, and he is the first to break our momentary silence. "C'mon, we're going back to the hospital."

I tug gently on my arm, but we both know it is a far cry from an escape attempt. "There's no we. You go back, I need to keep moving. I need to."

"It's not safe out there."

"I know--that's why you can't come with me."

Jamie furrows his eyebrows. "It's safe in here! This town is empty, 'n the hospital's even emptier. Going out the borders isn't a good idea."

"I've made plenty of bad decisions, and I'm still alive and kicking, so I'm going alone." I pull away from Jamie for real this time, stepping backwards away from him, stumbling slightly, my foot aching as I put weight on it. 

"No you're not," he says, his voice getting lower, accent creeping out of the dark corner it must've been hiding in for the past few days. 

"Jamie," I start, my voice in the same tone as his, though I like to imagine it is scarier. It is the first  time I've said his name in a while, and I'm happy about that inconsistency. "If you try to follow me I will hurt you. I need to find her. I need to go home."

His expression falters, and I think maybe I've gone too far. I wouldn't hurt him, would I? No, I would. I would, I would, if he made me. I would.

Or maybe I wouldn't. My brain can't make up its mind. It can't make up anything but the idea of escape, the idea of my mother, the idea of safety and freedom and home. 

He's bigger than me, though. I am not a short person, nor am I incredibly petite, but Jamie is a football player (and so very tall) and could absolutely take me in a fight. 

He doesn't, though. I half expect him to reach out and throw me over his shoulder, because he could, couldn't he? Couldn't he?

"You can't," he says, and his eyes tell me that he truly believes that his words are the truth. 

I don't. I don't believe Jamie and honestly I don't even believe my own mind anymore--all it is telling me are the wrong things, the wrong signals, the wrong feelings. It asks me to kiss Jamie when instead I must punch him in the face and run away. 

I don't listen to it, because I don't want to. I don't punch Jamie in the face--thankfully--but I do run. I turn and I sprint, feet pattering over the damp pavement of the road, carefully avoiding the icy spots that I know could very well be my demise. 

I am not fast, definitely not fast enough to avoid Jamie. I can hear my own panting in my ears, and my chest heaves with the effort. Even before all of this, I was not an active person, nor was I healthy. 

"Sadie!" Jamie shouts, but I don't stop, aiming for the bridge. It's not too far from here, is it? Far enough. Far enough for me to stop, maybe duck behind a tree. I can't make it all the way there in this one sprint. 

My cast flares up with pain, and I hear Jamie behind me, gaining quickly. Just a bit of me is grateful for his protective nature--I ignore that part, cast it away, tell it that it is wrong because it is. 

His hand wraps around my wrist and I trip, hitting the pavement hard, a shriek escaping my mouth before I can stop it, and do I really want to stop it, anyways? Jamie should know the pain he has put me through. Maybe then he would let me go. 

I open my eyes to find them blurry from tears--there goes the last of my mascara. My arms reach out to wrap around my leg, which is curled against my chest in an attempt at lessening the pain. 

"Shit, Sadie, are you okay?" he says, falling to his knees on the concrete next to my fallen form, surprisingly warm hand resting on my arm, gently, too gently. 

For a moment the tears overwhelm me and I can't speak, but then I fight through the pain and find words, however hurtful and unnecessary they may be. "Just let me go," I choke out. "Why do you care, anyways? It was never real. I just needed the key. I just needed to leave. I was dying! I was dying locked up in there, and I had to breathe fresh air again, I had to see my mom I had to I had to. I had to."

His hand retracts from my arm, and I almost miss the warmth it was giving me, amongst the slush currently soaking into my thin clothes. But I don't, because I can't afford to miss anything Jamie gives me. Not now, probably not ever. 

I don't look at his face, but I can imagine the expression on his face well enough. 

"Fine, then. Go." He stands, brushing off his legs, and when I do chance a glance at him, I find his expression is even more sour than I was expecting. 

I try to stand too, but my leg is worse than I thought. It gives out from under me when I try to put weight on it, and there's another unwilling small shriek as I fall to the ground yet again, landing this time on my hands, a much safer way. 

"You can't," he says, and his words are not a question, they are a fact that Jamie seems to be slightly annoyed about. 

"Fuck you," I say, but we can both tell I don't mean it, however convincing I'm trying to be. I wipe a tear from my cheek, steeling my expression the best I can. 

He extends a hand to me and I take it begrudgingly, my breath catching in my throat as I try again to walk normally. 

I gasp a bit, leaning heavily on Jamie. My vision begins to blur, and so I close my eyes, hoping it will fix the problem. 

It doesn't.

My fist flies into his face, blood splattering across the street, creating unique little patterns on the pavement that remind me of something far-away yet so, so close. 

Jamie falls with a thud and a grunt of pain. I fall too, my pillar of strength gone, but then I get up and I run, run until I find my mother, and I take her in my arms and she smiles and she laughs and everything is amazing and perfect, the way I know it will never, ever, be again. 

heyy i know it's been a while since i published anything for this story so here's the next chapter <3 enjoy!