Black and Blue

7 - I Can Safely Say I Now Believe In a Hell; Heaven, Still Debatable

"Hey."

...no...

"Hey."

Mmn...five more minutes—

"Sawyer!"

Jack grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me awake, features reading frustration and worry. I almost punched him in the face (by instinct, of course. I totally didn't want him to shut up right then and there) and tried to free myself from his hold. No luck; this guy had the most inconvenient iron grip.

"Jesus, one of the only days I have off and you're trying to wake me up this early?!"

"How did I get here. What are all these stitches doing in me, why was there so much blood in the room—" He stopped himself, looked me up and down, and folded his arms with a scowl. "Of course, why am I trying to get a straight answer out of you. You're probably going to give me some bullshit story about your second cousin-in-law having a lobotomy, or whatever you can think up this time."

I sat up and held my head, trying to process all this at...

What time is it, even?

"You're still holding onto that, huh," I said through gritted teeth, feeling a massive headache about to come on. "Sorry for lying to save my own life that one time."

"Whatever, just tell me what I'm doing here. I wake up with half of my body covered in these," he said, lifting his torn-up scrap of a shirt and gesturing to a stitch in his left side, "no memory of how they got there, covered in tar and blood, and I walk into the next room to find you snoring up a storm. What the hell is up, Doc?!"

I frowned. "I don't snore."

"That's what you're taking away from this?"

"Okay, you need to calm down. First of all, it's..." I grabbed for my phone on the night-table, but my hand found nothing. I looked over and saw that it was nowhere in sight. Jack cleared his throat and held it out for me to take. I snatched it away with a glare, checking the time.

"...8:15? Yeah, I'm calling that way too early to even think about waking up the average college student on a weekend. And why did you take my phone?"

"I don't know, I thought maybe you'd call the police if you saw me here? I mean, take one look at me right now and say you wouldn't."

"You're ridiculous. Besides, why would I do that the morning after I pretty much saved your life? A little counterproductive, wouldn't you say? Don't wait up." I got up and walked into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, soaked it, and wrung it out before handing it to a fairly confused Jack who had trailed along after me.

"You...saved me?"

"Uh, yeah. Here. Clean up. I'm not touching any of this anymore than I need to," I said, gesturing up and down at him. Any weird sense of gratitude he might have felt towards me faded from his features. He narrowed his eyelids.

"Rude." He reluctantly took the cloth, then seemed to realize something with panic. "Wait, I wasn't all there, was I?"

"If you mean intoxicated beyond belief, then yeah. Don't wor—"

"Shit! I—did I hurt you? I must've, that's what usually happens. You really shouldn't have taken me in, you could've died! I mean, you probably deserved it, but—"

I laughed and reached for a tube of toothpaste on one of the higher shelves. "Relax, dumbass, you didn't do anything. Just climbed up to the second floor window and waited in my room, one limp, rag doll of a man. It was sad, really. You were like some drunk teen girl on cloud nine." I tilted my head, examining myself in the mirror. When was the last time I brushed my hair? "Maybe I should give you a lollipop, for being such a good patient."