slight tw // mentions of abuse, not detailed (i'll put *** at the end and at the start.)
"John. John! Can you hear me? John!" Murphy looked up, confused. The energy had left his body, leaving him exhausted. He was in a completely different place than what he remembered. Tall trees were now big, beeping machines. The wet soil was now a soft, warm bed. The loneliness, and the silence from the forrest was now exchanged with several people rushing around in the room, beeping coming from here and there. Murphy felt confused, exposed, scared even. He looked down, seeing his black leatherjacket was now some sort of bluegreen clothing, almost like an apron. His combat boots were gone, leaving him barefoot. He was uncomfortable, no doubt.
"Wh-where am I?" He stuttered.
"He's awake!" He heard the nurse leave the room, running down the hall to tell whoever.
"Bitch." He muttered.
"John, I'm so happy you're awake." A calm female voice approached him, sitting down next to his bed.
"Where am I? What happened?" He had to use all of the energy left to not be rude.
"You're in the hospital. A stranger heard you talking, or, he heard you scream to yourself so he went in to the forrest to see what was actually going on. About a minute later he saw you pull out a gun and shoot yourself so he called 911, and well, here we are." She explained calmly, making sure he understood every word she said.
"But if I shot myself in the chest, that's what I did right? I can barely remember." he paused to give the nurse a chance to confirm what he had stated. She nodded and he continued "Well, how did I survive that? I mean the chest, there's a lot of important organs there, right?" He gave her a questioning look once again, and she replied.
"You were extremely lucky. The bullet was only two centimeters from your heart, and since the stranger, his name is Alec by the way, anyway since Alec alarmed us as quickly as he did we could get there in time and we were able to save you. Although I have to say, we were unsure if you were going to make it, but as your vitals were getting stronger, we realized you are a fighter."
'Fighter' noun. fight·er \ˈfī-tər\: Someone who doesn't give up: someone who continues fighting or trying.
John Murphy had no one other than Bellamy. Before he came into his life he had been fighting everyday. His father left the family when Murphy was barely four years old, he didn't understand much at the time, but once he grew older, his courage grew and he finally decided to ask his mother why his father had left them. She looked at the seven-year-old and met his timid eyes. Her expression changed a few time before she told him that it didn't matter, that they were okay now and that the father would never hurt their family again. Little John simply nodded, hugged his mother and went to his room. Murphy thought about what his mother had told him, and he began to wonder. After a few hours he realized what she meant.
***
It all added up, the bruises his mother claimed were from accidents at work, or simply her being clumsy. The screams he thought had been on the telly. His father being angry all the time, barely noticing his son. His father was an abuser, and he had abused his family physically, and even worse. Emotionally too.
What made him absolutely sure about this was the time Murphy had come home from kindergarten, proudly showing his parents the drawing he'd made that very day. The drawing was of two boys holding hands, one wearing a pink shirt and the other wore a purple one. His mother had given him a hug and was very impressed, hanging it on the fridge. Murphy couldn't have been more proud of himself. He ran into the living room and called for his father. "Dad! Look what I drew, it's in the kitchen, on the fridge. C'mon!" Murphy tugged at the fathers arm, pulling him to the kitchen. "Look!" And so his father did. He looked at his son with disgust. Before Murphy knew it, he had his fathers hand on his cheek. Leaving a red color, and an extreme sting of pain he teared up and ran to his mother. "Fucking pathetic. You're a faggot, a disgrace." His father spit the words out, venom coating every single letter in the sentence. The mother took Murphy in his arms and carried him into his room, closing the door they both lied down in his bed and Murphy fell asleep, cheeks stained from tears. After a while his mother went down and Murphy woke up, feeling the bed shift. He heard his mother walk down the stairs, carefully taking each step, almost like she didn't want to be in the house. Murphy'd not understand why, it was just his father downstairs, nothing would happen, right?
***
Screams, crying, the sound of slaps and doors being slammed filled the house, until one very second where everything went quiet.
He never saw his father again after that day.
-
"How long have I been here?" His voice was tired and urging. He hated hospitals, and his only wish was to get out of there as soon as possible.
"You've been in coma for about two months." Coma?
"I have what?" The confusion on his face couldn't be unnoticed.
"Coma, you've been unconscious for -"
"No I know what coma is, I'm not stupid."
The nurse's mouth formed an 'o' and let Murphy continue.
"Did anyone visit wh-while I was here?" He suddenly became nervous for what she might answer.
"Well, no.Since you're parents both are deceased, we tried to get a hold of a Bellamy Blake. He didn't respond to our calls, emails etcetera. Do you know what he's doing, or where he might be?"
"It doesn't matter. He will never come here."
"And why wouldn't he? You've been in coma, that is quite serious dear. Why would he not come here to check on you?"
"He's dead."
"Are you sure?" Murphy grew impatient to the insensitive nurse, all of these questions and what he had to say.
"Yes I'm sure." Her whole being forced him to explain.
"I'm sure because I'm the one who killed him."
CLIFFHANGER AAH.
This is like the longest chapter I've ever written. It's not proofread yet so if there's anything confusing or weird or something like that please let me know so I can fix it. Please please please vote if you liked this
chapter or the story in general, it means more than you know!
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TYSM FOR 100 READS! It might not be much to you, but to me it's amazing!!
xx Ellie
