The Most Dangerous Kind of Love

Chapter Ten

The Most Dangerous Kind of Love 10

Two hours later, Jason and I were getting checked up at the hospital. We were in a room that was separated by a curtain. 

The cut on my forehead from the force of the explosion only needed two stitches. I wasn't sure how Jason was. The doctor had just gone over there to check on him. 

We attracted a lot of attention when we walked into the emergency room. Two teenagers covered in ash and dirt, bleeding in various places, singed, dirty clothing, and probably fried hair apparently was something that people didn't see every day. 

"How is she?" I heard Jason ask the doctor. 

"She's fine. She's laying down on the bed. She was better off than you are, that's for sure," the doctor replied. 

That made my eyes grow wide. Jason said he was fine! I should've known he really wasn't!

"I'm okay," he grumbled. "I should be able to just go."

"You're going to need stitches on both your arm and your leg, okay?" the doctor asked, ignoring Jason's previous statement. 

"Yeah, fine."

We were asked a lot of questions about our appearances. We just told the doctors that we were out in the woods and came across the warehouse. Curious, we went inside, and there just so happened to be a bomb in there. It was a simple case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

"Channing?" Jason called a little while later after the doctor had left from stitching him up. 

I got up from the bed thing and walked around to where he was. He looked awful. His clothes were still beat up and singed, dirt and ash was still all over his face, his leg - which I didn't even realize was cut from the force of the explosion - was recently cleaned and stitched up, and the same with his arm. Come to think of it, I probably didn't look that much better. 

"Are you okay?" I asked him. 

He nodded. "I'm fine. This is nothing."

"Jason, you don't have to act tough. It's okay to hurt."

He shook his head, sitting up and leaning against the wall behind the head of the little bed thing. "I'm serious. It really doesn't hurt that bad. Worse has happened."

"Worse than being blown up?"

He shrugged, but didn't answer my question. 

"Jason..."

"Channing, I-" he started, but was cut off by a familiar voice. 

"Channing?!" a frantic voice called. 

It was my dad. 

I sighed. "Over here, dad."

He burst around the curtain, and engulfed me in a bone-crushing hug. 

"Thank god you're okay!" he said, sounding relieved. 

"Dad, I'm fine," I said, pushing away from him as softly as I could. 

"The doctors said something about an explosion!"

"I-"

"What the hell happened?!" he yelled. "You could've gotten killed!"

"Dad, it's okay-

"Are you hurt?"

"Dad-"

"Jesus, look at your forehead, that was a stupid question," he muttered.