Breaking the Rules [BoyxBoy]

27 | gιfт σf α frιєи∂

It's easy to feel like you don't need help
But it's harder to walk on your own

Chapter 27 ~ Gift of a Friend

Owen Bailey

I woke like I had never rested before, like I didn't know the wonders of sleep until now, like I had slept for eternity and was just now being summoned back to life. I wanted to continue sleeping, and I probably could have, if it wasn't for the blinding rays of sun light seeping through the blinds and rudely smacking my face; I groaned. My eyes peeled open slowly as if they were trying to assess the potential danger of the sunlight, but they snapped open immediately after realizing that they didn't recognize my surroundings.

Above me was a harsh, bright, white light that forced my eyes to look away to something relatively somber; that object happened to be a blank flat screen TV mounted on the wall ahead of me. The room felt, looked, and smelt sterile, like it was thoroughly cleaned at least three times a day, and that scent discomforted me. To my left was a large window with a breathtaking view of the city with several single chairs strategically placed in front of it. To my right was a machine that beeped every few seconds and that held numerous plastic bags filled with an unknown liquid. Instantly recognizing the scene, I glanced down at my body to see that I was in bed, wearing what appeared to be a plastic gown, with a needle stuck into my arm, covered by a gauze bandage.

"No!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I shot out of bed. "Why am I here? I can't be here ... I can't—"

"Hey, hey," I heard a voice say from beside me, shortly followed by a pair of hands touching me and forcing me to stay put. My vision settled on the familiar brown-skinned boy whose deep eyes brimmed with concern. "Owen, it's okay, you're safe."

"What the fuck am I doing here!"

The corners of Trey's lips tugged into a slight frown. "You were hurt ... you need medical attention."

"Jonah," I said in an accusatory tone. "Jonah can get me fixed up—I can't be here!"

Despite my obvious disdain with my current predicament, Trey's hands remained on my wrists. "Jonah was the one who suggested it. He said your condition was too bad and that he couldn't help you because he didn't have all the necessary medicine. Owen, please calm down. You're okay. Everything's fine."

"No!" I yelled. "I can't be here. Lucifer's minions can find me here. I have to leave." I smacked his hands away and made a move to unravel the numerous sheets that I was situated under, but my efforts were met with resistance when Trey stood from the seat beside the bed and pushed on my shoulders to shove me back down.

"Everything's okay, Owen. You don't need to worry about Lucifer or his men ever again."

I pulled my brows together as I stared back at the boy, feeling slightly perplexed at his words. "What?"

"You're safe," was all he said which wouldn't have held much substance under any normal circumstances, but there was something in the way he spoke those words. It was more than just reassurance; it was certainty, and so I believed him.

My shoulders fell in defeat and I slumped back into the hospital bed. Silence swept over us for a while, and I used that moment to dwell on my recent memories of Lucifer and being held captive in his torture chamber. All the pieces started to come back slowly. I remembered trying to kill the bastard, but being too weak to accomplish anything. I remembered hanging from the ceiling and thinking that my life was over until I heard the ear-piercing sound of a bullet striking through the air.