Time To Go

Nineteen: Kennedy

"Is this the cause of the attack, do you think?"

I wasn't quick enough to hide my death glare which was shot immediately at the police woman, whose hand was pointing at me and John. He doesn't even seem fazed by her remark; he was simply rubbing his course cheek up and down my side.

"Is what the cause?"

I can't prevent the venom behind my words despite the quietness of my voice as I lean forward a little. I wince as a sharp pain sends a hurricane through my ribcage and John sits up, his eyes falling all over my body, his arms shaking as he holds himself up weakly. I stroke his face gently; my eyes still on the police office who had an eyebrow raised, watching as John lays back down against me.

Oddly enough, she's smiling.

"So, how long have you and Mr O'Callaghan been a couple?" She asks, taking a seat down beside the bed and I sigh at the thought of her staying longer than necessary.

John agrees as he nuzzles his face gently on my bruised body.

I snicker a little; so suddenly it's John who is visiting me.

"How relevant is this to the search for my attacker?" I stop my sentence abruptly as my wheezing becomes louder. I take a deep breath, closing my puffy eyes which flicker shut beneath the intensity of the pain within me.

I breathe in again... a soapy, childish scent fills my nose and gives me the strength to open my eyes once more. I am met by the more than judgmental gaze of the police woman.

"Co-operation, Mr Brock, is always appreciated." Her voice is calm, gentle, patronizing and sickening... everything that I hate, and so suddenly I am propelled back into my past and so suddenly I am a child once more.

I shake the thought from my head.

"A few weeks... months, if that." I say with all the strength I can muster.

She just about hears it, quietly jotting down notes, her head nodding as though she is a toy dog in the back of a car... in order to keep the children entertained...

"And would you say you're a serious couple?" She asks.

I roll my eyes, watching as she lets out a taxed laugh. John giggles in my arms as though he sensed my very action. I wrap my arms tighter around his tiny frame. Jesus, he is wasting away; bit by bit every time I see him... he is wasting away... so is my heart and I can't bear it.

"As serious as you can be when one is dying." I say, feeling a familiar tingling feeling at the tip of my nose that usually resorts in crying. No, not again. I had been weak for John too many times...

"I'm sorry, Mr Brock..." she says and there is nothing on her face but sympathy and the very sight of it makes my blood boil.

"It's not me who is dying... though to be honest, I'm not quite sure."