Will Vinny
I didn't exactly know what to do with Rookie after he passed out, well, I did, but I couldn't do that. We were on the run now and we were wanted. The poles and trees said so themself. I didn't even know people still did that but I guess they do. I guess the sirens and shit also proved that point as well.
So, the best next thing I could think of was bring him to Nick, who knew a guy that knew a guy. That said-so guy was named Bruce. Bruce was apparently some sort of street Doctor and Nick was eager for me to bring Rookie to him. Thanks to Nick we got there just about ten minutes ago.
"Yup. Your buddy here has a sprained ankle. He passed out from the shock most likely. If not, then your friend here is dead." I gave him a deadpanned look. "I swear if you're fucking joking—"Woah! Sorry, I didn't realize you cared this much about him." He says stunned. His face goes pale and his hands are up like he's surrendering. "Why the fuck wouldn't I?" I ask emotionless. Stern. Cold. "I-I don't know man. I'm sorry."
"Just do your job and keep him alive. If not then you will have more shit to worry about than me." I threaten him, he automatically goes back to the room where Rookie is. Relief washes over me as I can hear him snoring from here. So he isn't dead. He did take a pretty nasty fall, he isn't buff or anything like that by any means, so I'm surprised the guy is still alive, honestly. But if it weren't for me pulling his body on top of mine before the fall he probably would've end up paralyzed. So a sprained ankle will have to do for a while.
At least now we have a hideout spot.
Even if we have to deal with Bruce and his ignorance. I shouldn't be too pissed off with the fact that he's the one taking care of Rooks, but then again, who the fuck else would be able to? Call it jealousy if you must.
Hours go by and Rookie is finally awake. First it was a peaceful groan and then it was a loud screeching scream. Immediately I jumped out of my spot, where I spent the last three hours bouncing my knee and clenching my jaw, and rush into his room. He lays there, screaming and crying about the sudden pain he's in, while being wrapped up in bandage on his ankle. The poor guy. It makes me want to hold him and tell him it'll be okay.
"Will?" He sadly calls out for me. "I'm here," I say as I kneel down beside him and without thinking I grab his hand and squeeze it. He does the same and it brings me joy and a warm fuzzy feeling. But that feeling could also be worry.
"Wh-what ha-happened?" He stuttered as he gulped. He's panting like a dog, begging for air from the lack of oxygen he has right now. He's panicking. A lot. He is having a panic attack.
"Hey, hey. It's okay. You're safe, do you hear me? It'll be all okay." I softly tell him in a gentle tone. He shakes his head furiously as if any more pain comes rushing through his ankle he's going to end up passing out and never wake up. "W-Will," He cries and it breaks my heart. An aching feeling crushes the inside of my chest listening to him cry out my name in pain.
"What about the cops?" He asked. Now it suddenly makes sense.
YOU ARE READING
The look behind those tired eyes
Historical Fiction"It's the look behind those tired eyes, Chandler. They tell a story not many could comprehend. Not a lot of people in your position are able to speak up about their mental health as much as you, you talking about it is a great thing!" "The only good...
