After You... (1st Draft)

Chapter 17 - A Mistake Reserved Only For Drunks

Chapter 17 - A Mistake Reserved Only For Drunks

I'd slept by Darius' side for a day straight. Even in sleep he'd managed to conceal just how serious things had been for him. As he lay in the hospital bed he'd told me he could see two of me. Maybe three. I just knew that from the moment his head had tipped into my hands outside Jacksons place, those few seconds of losing consciousness meant his head would be all kinds of disoriented.

He could barely open his eyes to natural light and looked at me as if someone had unexpectedly opened the curtains after hours of accustomed darkness. It turned out he'd suffered from a mild concussion, needed a few stitches here and there and he'd bruised pretty badly.

There was an uncomfortable moment earlier where the doctor asked Darius how this had happened. Despite Jackson's earlier explanation, he'd still asked him. But I soon realized it was just to add to the many questions fired at him to establish just how present he was. Questions like;

"What year are we in?"

"What season is this?"

"Who's the Prime Minister?"

"Who's the president of the United States?"

"What is your name?"

"How old are you?"

They were evaluating him on his answers, and though he struggled for only seconds every time, he eventually came out with all the right ones.

The question about who was responsible for his current state was the very first one he'd been asked, and it froze him. He'd questionably looked over at Jackson then at me, and winced as he shook his head indicating he didn't know. Finally he got the questions he didn't mind answering. But when the doctor finally asked the dreaded question again, Darius said he was tired, and the very portly doctor reluctantly decided to let him be.

He'd read the situation as Darius not wanting to disclose the truth, and looked at Jackson as if he possibly had something to do with it. We'd both caught that. It was as if the doctor thought either Darius feared a 'reprisal' from Jackson or that Darius was trying to protect him. Either way, Jackson was not impressed.

But Jackson wasn't the one who'd had scuffed knuckles, Malachy did. And I'd even noticed when Jackson had initially fed them the story, how Malachy had stuffed his hands in his pockets. The blood everywhere else on him had been explained away by Jackson. Convincingly so I might add. So much so, Malachy didn't even seem like a possibility from the way the doctor carried on, especially seeing as he was the one who carried him in. Little did Darius know that.

Darius was in hospital for just over a day under frequent observation. He was regularly seen too for any signs of change or deterioration. I stayed the whole time while Jackson periodically came in with bottled water and sneaked in the odd snack. Now that Kibbie was fine and had called in sick at Reds, she'd spent time in the hospital canteen with Jackson as he filled her in on all the details. Cristal caught a cab back to later fill in for her.

We'd been left alone for the first time and I'd been sitting by Darius' bed for so long that I could feel my body fall into sleep as I lay my head over his chest. I'd woken to his hand in my hair and put my hands on his chest as I looked up at him. Taking a moment to adjust, I wiped over my eyes, my heart swelling just a little at his bruised face. There were just so many injured blood vessels turning his skin blue. They just kept coming up, looking so much worse than they ever did before. I softened glancing at him. The deep blues of his swollen eyes peaked through at me, glistening.