Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter forty-one

Jay

     I woke to the sterile stillness of a hospital room, the kind of silence that amplifies the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint rustle of distant footsteps. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled my nostrils, and my stomach turned at the familiarity of it. Hospitals had always unsettled me—since I was a boy, I'd hated everything about them. The sterile halls, the too-bright lights, the tasteless food served on plastic trays. Even the beds, stiff and unyielding, felt like cages. But it wasn't just the physical discomfort. The place reeked of weakness, of surrender. It was a place for the helpless, and I hated being reminded that, for now, I was one of them.

My right arm felt like ice, the chill spreading from the IV taped to my hand. I could feel the cold solution snaking through my veins, an unwelcome intrusion that made my skin crawl. My torso ached dully, a lingering echo of the moment Damien had plunged the knife into me. It wasn't unbearable—nothing compared to the agony of betrayal. The pain of the wound was insignificant next to the fury simmering inside me, the gnawing rage at finding myself here, of all places. Damien knew how much I hated hospitals. That's why he'd ensured I ended up in one. Not out of mercy, but as a final twist of the knife.

The sun streamed in weakly through the window behind me, its warmth a sharp contrast to the cold numbness creeping through my body. I stared at the faint beams until a sound drew my attention—a soft knock followed by the cheerful entrance of a nurse. She carried a clipboard in one hand and a smile that was just a little too bright, the kind of forced cheeriness reserved for those who dealt with broken people daily. She placed the clipboard at the edge of the bed and folded her hands in front of her.

"Mr. Bieber," she said gently, tilting her head. "How are you feeling?"

I stared at her blank , my lips pressing into a flat line. Her question hung in the air like an insult to my current state, but I forced myself to respond. "Couldn't be better," I said, the sarcasm sharp enough to slice through the stagnant air.

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she kept her pleasant demeanor. "Are you in any pain?"

"It's fine," I replied curtly. "Thank you."

She hesitated, clearly unsure whether to press further, but after a moment, she nodded. "Alright. I'll just check your chart here..."

Her voice faded into the background as my thoughts began to churn. She didn't need to tell me what had happened—I already knew. I didn't need the rehearsed explanation she was undoubtedly preparing to give, about how I'd been attacked by some nameless gang in an alley and how my heroic brother had saved me. The lie was already etched into Damien's smug grin the last time I saw him.

"Okay," she said, breaking through my thoughts, her clipboard tucked back under her arm. "If you need anything, just let us know. I'll step out and give you some time to rest."

Before she could leave, the door swung open. Damien strolled in, his hands clapping together like he was arriving at a celebration instead of my hospital room. "He's awake!" he exclaimed, his voice oozing false enthusiasm. "My little brother is alive and well. It's a miracle!"

The nurse glanced between us, her expression softening. "I'll give you two some privacy," she said, offering Damien a polite smile before slipping out of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with him. I stared at the man who had once been my brother, though now he seemed like nothing more than a ghost of the person I used to know. His face was infuriatingly calm, a predator savoring his victory.

"You fucking coward," I hissed through gritted teeth, my voice a low growl that barely concealed the storm rising within me. My eyes locked on his face—the face of the man who had once been my brother, my blood, but now stood before me as a stranger cloaked in cruelty. Hatred, cold and searing, churned in my chest. "Do you honestly think this wound is going to stop me?"