*****Phil's POV****
The pain is unbelievable. My right hand is throbbing, releasing blood onto my already red clothes.
I stare at my fingers, at the broken mirror.
Why do I always mess things up?
I can't even be mad without screwing up my hand.
I hear the door open, and I turn to see Pj. I quickly look away, embarrassed.
"Oh, my god, Phil!" he runs towards me, checking my hand. "Did you break the mirror?"
I don't say anything.
I walk towards the wall and sit, tears streaming down from my eyes. I cradle my hand in my lap.
Pj crouches down in front of me, "I know you're mad about Lucy but-"
"I'm not mad about Lucy." I blurt out. "I'm mad because..." I look at the wall, avoiding his piercing eyes.
"Because..."
"Because It's my fault, Peej." I look at him. "This is all my fault."
Pj furrows his eyebrows. "Did you push him in front of the car?"
I look down. "Well, no. But-"
"Then it isn't your fault, Phil. It was an accident." Pj stands up and lifts me up with him. I wince in pain. "And he's going to wake up. He's going to, and when he does he's going to be looking for you. Except, not with a bloody, mutilated hand."
Blood is dripping down my arm. "He'll be looking for Lucy," I grumble.
Pj stops moving and glares at me. "He loves you, Phil. He cares about you. I'm sure more than Lucy."
I stop crying, and smile weakly. It feels good to hear somebody else exaggerate her name like that.
"C'mon. Good thing we're in a hospital. You're going to need stitches."
He leads me out of the bathroom and to the nearest nurse. I'm dripping blood onto the floor, onto Pj.
When the nurse sees us, she immediately takes me to a different room and starts cleaning my hand.
Pj never leaves my side, and I never lose my angry glare.
I'm sitting on a hospital bed, and the nurse is pulling broken glass out of my skin. She has curly red hair that's hanging wildly around her, and she has red lipstick and too much mascara on. She looks young, for being a nurse.
"Mind telling me what happened?"
I huff, "Not really."
"He punched a mirror," Pj explains. "Pretty hardcore if you ask me," he laughs. I can't help it, I smile too. Just for a second.
"I did that once," the nurse says, sticking a needle into my hand, "but not with a mirror. I punched my ex boyfriend's car window." She giggles.
"Why would you do that?" I ask, shocked. I can't imagine a tiny girl doing something that reckless.
She rubs antibiotic on my stitches. "Same reason you did. I was mad."
Mad is an understatement.
"My best friend is in a coma," I start, while she's taking out a bandage. "And his jerk girlfriend just got here."
"Why is she a jerk?"
"Well, for one, she made it look like I kissed her, when SHE kissed ME."
Pj pats my shoulder.
"And..." I whisper. "And she doesn't deserve him."
The nurse look up at me, and raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Fine. Maybe I'm jealous."
"That sounds about right." She puts an elastic on the wrap, keeping it together. "You're friend, is his name Dan?"
I nod.
"I was helping in his surgery earlier!" she exclaims. "No wonder you're jealous. He's hot. Even with his lungs collapsing."
I laugh meekly, not sure if I should or not.
She continues, "He kept muttering stuff after we drugged him."
"Doctor Bloom told me," I say, rolling my eyes. "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy."
The nurse smiles and touches my hand gently, "It's just the anesthesia. He could've been thinking of toast for all we know."
I hear Pj chuckling beside me. "He probably was!" he exclaims.
The nurse laughs with him. "Actually, now that I think about it," she says, tapping her cheek with her finger, "He also mentioned nuclear explosions a lot."
I look at her, confused. "He said that to me before I brought him here, but I don't know what he meant."
The nurse is about to say something when somebody calls for her. She stands up and says to me, "Don't use that hand too much for awhile, and come back in 2 weeks to get the stitches out. Bye guys," And then she leaves.
I get up from the hospital bed and Pj and I start walking back to the area where Dan is.
"Hey, Phil?"
"Yeah?"
"I think it's about time you change your clothes."
I look down at what I'm wearing. My sleeves and pants are bloody and smell pretty bad.
"Yeah, Peej. I really do."
