I'm Not Hungry

Thirteen

As soon as I realize what I'm doing, I start kicking at Jax and struggling to get out of the hospital bed. But am I really any match for a guy that works out every day? I think not.

I feel a whole load of needles poking into places that they're not supposed be, but I couldn't care less. I just need to get away.

"Stop! Just stop! You're fi-" I cut Jax off.

"I KNOW I'M FINE! I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL EVERYONE FOR WEEKS, BUT NO ONE BELIEVES ME! WHY START NOW, HUH?" I scream at the top of my lungs.

"BUT YOU'RE NOT FINE!" He yells back with equally as much force.

With a lot of effort, I calm myself. "Leave."

"But-"

"Leave." I repeat calmly. This time, he walks out without so much as a single word.

-----

Finally. I get to leave this hell hole. It's been three weeks since the...accident.

I begin to walk home since my truck is in the shop. It literally started falling apart. Like, parts falling off, falling apart. I take out my phone and put my headphones in. When I crossed the street, I had the music up so loud that I didn't hear the car or see who was driving it. That is, until it hit me. The last thing I remember was hearing a car door slam from about twenty feet in front of me.

-----

Beep, beep, beep.

What the hell is it with me and hospitals? As I open my eyes, I notice something different right away. Before I can figure out what it is, a doctor walks into the room. He starts talking immediately.

"Well, you were very lucky. You almost broke your neck. You could've died. And, it's still the same day. It only took you a couple hours to wake up." The doctor pauses. "In this type of situation, we have to consider your past hospital visits, and I have to ask." Sigh. I prepared myself for what might come. "Did you put yourself in front of that car on purpose?"

"No!" I shout, even though I can understand where he's coming from.

"Alright. We have to take some tests, but then there's someone here to see you." The doctor says. As if on cue, three nurses rush in and start testing my vitals. It's when they're looking into my eyes that I realize what's different.

I can't see out of my left eye at all.

I'm half blind!

"Wh-what happened to my eye?" I force out once the nurses finish. The doctor looks at the results, then back at me.

"Well it seems that you've damaged your lens." He says matter-of-factly.

"Right," I begin. "And what is that, exactly?" I ask confusedly.

"The lens is composed of transparent, flexible tissue and is located directly behind the iris and the pupil. It is the second part of your eye, after the cornea, that helps to focus light and images on your retina. So, basically, it's the main part of your eye that deals with sight. You also have three broken ribs and...we're contemplating amputating your leg." The doctor stops, as if trying to remember what he was supposed to say. "Oh, yes! There's someone here to see you. If you don't have any more question, I'll send them in."

"I'm good. I got hit by a car and now I'm half blind. It's not much to remember."

The doctor smiles sadly. "Just don't be too hard on them, alright? It was an accident."

Then it dawned on me. "The person that wants to see me, is the person that hit me?" The doctor nods. "We'll send him in. I'm going to give this dude a piece of my mind."

The doctor merely rolls his eyes at my behavior and leaves the room. During this time I take the chance to look at my leg. The muscle and flesh is torn and maimed beyond recognition. Seconds later, a familiar face appears in the doorway.

"You did it, Jax?" I ask disbelievingly.

He holds up his hands in a mock surrender. "I didn't do it on purpose." I notice the slight slur in his words.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't." He shot back, messing up the pronunciation of 'didn't'.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"I'm thinking you did it as some twisted way of getting back at me!"

"I'm starting to wish I'd killed you when I hit you!" He shouted, clear as day. You wouldn't have even known that he's drunk.

I discontinue my fight with him and consider his words. "I've wished that since I woke up."

Jax's eyes widen. "N-no! I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did." I smile a minuscule smile. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does." He says, eyes still wide, shocked from what had come out of his mouth even in his drunken state. "I would never-"

"Hit someone with a car because you didn't like them?" I finished for him. "You know, some of the only times a person will tell the truth is when they're drunk or angry." I think for a second, then add, "Drunk words, sober thoughts."

"I-I d-d-d-didn't-t-" Jax starts breathing deeply trying to control it, but fails. He starts hyperventilating and he sinks to his knees. There are tears steaming down his cheeks. But whether they're from his uncontrolled breathing or something else, I'm not entirely sure. He's just repeatedly saying a name. I think it's Marianna.

But who's that?

I just shrug it off and take out all of the things poking into my skin. Needles, needles and more needles. I struggle to walk over to Jax and place a hand on his shoulder. I may hate him, but I hate seeing people cry even more.

Just then, he unexpectedly pulls me down and into his arms. "I miss her!" Jax cries.

"I know, I know," I console, even though I actually have no idea who 'her' is. "Where is she?"

Jax had begun to calm down a little bit, but at this he breaks down again. "Sh-sh-she's g-gone!" He sobs into the crook of my neck.

"Where'd she go?" I ask, still not understanding.

"She's dead! She died two years ago!" Jax confides.

"Yeah? Well, we'll talk about this when you're sober and not crying on the floor. So come on, stop crying and get on the chair. That's it, come on," I say soothingly.

After ten minutes, I'm in the hospital bed and Jax is sleeping in the chair. I now realize that I shouldn't have gone to Jax when he was crying. I took out the morphine and now I hurt like hell. Mainly my leg.

Well, this is going to be a long night.