Bullet |Septiplier|

Chapter 9

|Jack's POV|

The weeks seemed to flood by. One after the other until it didn't even feel real anymore. None of this feels real. Are those real equipment, or just fake graphics for coding? Was that really my mom who visits? Was Mark really staying with me the entire time? Were those real doctors who check on me every thirty minutes? I can't even tell now. Is it all an illusion, this reality? Is everything I know fake? I want, no need, answers. How could everything be real with me feeling this way? How could this all not be an illusion with the way things have been? I keep hoping to wake up, and be in the reality I know. One where I was happy, one with mark, one with mom, and one with dad. Where did that reality go? Was that just an illusion also? I can't tell. Would it really mattered if I died if this isn't real? They keep asking why, but I can't give an answer. I can't feel anything. I'm numb. I can't cry, can't laugh or even smile. Are they real? They are obviously fake smiling, no one can truly be happy enough to smile.

I look over at the clock. 2:30? Shit. Fourth time in a row. Am I becoming an insomniac? I don't think it would surprise me if I did, honestly. I hear the familiar click of the door opening, and a nurse trying to quietly come check on me. She doesn't realize I'm awake.

"Hello, Miss," I said, startling her. Quite funny, actually. The way she jumped and clutched her heart like she was gonna die. Not enough to get me to even smile, though. Guess I have to work on that.

"Jesus, Jack! You gave me a heart attack! What are you doing up anyway?" She peered at me curiously. I peered back. It started to become a contest. Don't look away, Jack. Don't look away.

After a while she sighed and looked away to work on something else. Victory for jack a boy. She had finally finished and adjusted everything so I couldn't unplug or hurt myself in any way from the equipment.

She back away and cleared her throat. "It seems like today is your last day here, Jack," she said, quite nervously I might add. Weird.

"Is it really?" I asked, no hint of emotion whatsoever. She nods.

"You are to leave at four pm tomorrow. You are not to go back to school immediately, however. You are to be given and extra week at home in order to work on your homework and to catch up. You should be fit to go to school if you finish everything properly." She still seemed slightly nervous.

Was she scared of me? Does it matter? My mind counters. Well, I guess not. My mind always goes back and fourth like this. It always wins.

The nurse left and I just stared at the ceiling, contemplating what I should do. Does school really matter anymore? Does anything? I sigh and grab my phone, scrolling through Instagram. I keep my account private with a name no one would know me as. I already get bullied enough at school. I don't need it outside of school also.

Hours have passed, and I still haven't slept. The nurse came in about twelve more times, and people were finally starting to wake up around here. There's feet shuffling outside my door occasionally, but no one seems to come in and visit. I glance down to the red head laying down near me. What made him want to stay? This isn't real anyway, so what was the point? He always sleeps until nine. And always assumes that I just wake up before him. I glance over and see that it's 8:40. Mark should wake up soon. He hasn't talked much, just stayed near me and glared at any body who tried to make him leave.

I remember how he had fought, and had nearly went rabid when I was first here and had a panic attack. They had to sedate him also in order to make sure he didn't hurt anybody. I almost smiled at the thought of him caring that much. Almost.

I wonder why he's this determined? Is it out of pity? Or could he feel the same way....no. No that's impossible. Nobody could love me. He's starting to stir now, hope he's actually up to talking.

He slowly opened his eyes and yawned. "Hey Jack a boy," he said. Like everything was normal. I had to focus on breathing since just this voice, so husky in the mornings, was enough to set my heart jumping.

"H-hey Merk," I responded finally. Jesus that was harder than I though.

"Do you want me to get you some breakfast?" Mark asked, glancing down at my skinny form.

I nod and he gets up, leaving me by myself. The silence is not comfortable at all, almost suffocating me. I'm glad when he gets back, a stack of pancakes, two forks, and syrup in his arms.

"Jesus Merk! Did you rob the hospital cafeteria or something?" I asked, almost smiling at how ridiculous my boy- my friend is.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Shush we don't want any body else knowing," he said teasingly.

"T'en we might as well get rid of t'e evidence by eating it!" I tease back, making him set the stack on my bed as we chow down for the next thirty minutes. After mark had thrown the evidence we couldn't eat away, we started talking. Not about anything in particular, either. Just... talking. It was nice. I've never had this with anybody before. I liked it. I didn't want it to end. I found out about how he had moved here from a Hawaiian military base, how his parents were divorced and he thinks of it as having two moms, still loving both. He told me so many stories, and I told him some of mine. I avoided any topics about my past attempts, or my dad. I don't want to ruin the mood.

After making him laugh for about the thousandth time, a nurse had come in with dinner and we realized how late it was. We both quickly ate and Mark climbed into bed next to me. We had planned to watch a movie to celebrate my final night here. The bed was so small that we had to sit closer than we thought, not that I minded. I kept close to him and he kept close to me, neither of us complaining much. We finally ended up with his arm around me and me leaning against his chest. Surprisingly, after about thirty minutes I started to nod off, and I had a peaceful night's sleep at last.

A/N
Hello! Wow it's been a long time I'm sorry, and I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the shitty quality. Constructive Criticism is very welcome, so please help with my style and ideas, because writers block is a bitch haha.
~Suicide