Sometimes Things Just Fall Apart

Chapter 3

The hospital became our home after a few days. We stayed there all the time. We rotated between rooms and tried to spend as much time with them all as possible. We got plenty of exercise going from room to room.

Ashton was on the fifth floor in about the middle of the hall. It's quiet up there. He's located between a young cancer patient who's illness went bad fast and a mom who was involved in a head on collision.

Becca occupies a spot on the forth floor near the fire escape stairs. Sometimes I take them to clear my head. It's quite and peaceful. It gives me time to just relax and breathe. Conversations with her also helps.

Jackson is still in the ICU with little improvement. The doctors say they're doing everything they can but I doubt that. He still remains unconsciousness and they are stil unsure if when he will wake up.

I'm sitting in Ashton's room lost in my thoughts when Ricky comes in. He stands behind my chair and runs his fingers through my tangled mess of hair.

"The detective needs to talk to us," he says softly. It's weird how even though we know we can't wake him, we still whisper to each other. "He said to meet him at the station."

~

"I'm Detective Rogers," the man opened a case folder on the coffee table sitting between. We are in some kind of mini conference room. It's about a nine foot by ten foot room with glass windows all around on the walls. Their blinds are one allowing us to see the chaos taking over the station. "I'm the lead detective in the murder of your parents and brother."

I shift in my seat at that word. Murder. It sends chills down my back.

"Now, I have to ask, is there anyone who would want your family dead." The muscles in Ricky's arm tense up. "I've read into all the files filed under your parents name, even the ones about you're adoption."

My eyes landed on my lap where I watched my thumb trail over one of the many scars that my dad left on me. Detective Rogers leaned forward and placed his elbows on his thighs right above his knees.

"Could you're biological dad have done this?" He asks which I nod my head to in response. He leans back into his seat.

"We found traces of c4 in the leftover pieces of your house. For what we can tell, this was not just done by someone who woke up that morning and decided to throw a bomb at your house. The way this was done shows premeditated."

That doesn't surprise me. He lives just to try and kill me. He hates me and I've come to live with that.

~

When we get back to the hospital, Ricky rides the elevator up to Jacksons room. I take the stairs up to Jesse's room. It's quiet as I slowly walk up them. The windows at every floor create a passage way for the sunlight to shine through causing a peaceful glow to overtake the space.

When I reach her floor, I open the door that separates the stairs and hallway. I make my way down the hall until I get to her room.

Her frail small body lays peacefully under the white hospital bed sheets. Her eyelids are closed and her breathing is slow. She's asleep. I sit down in the chair next to her bed.

"You need to go home," she whispers not oping her eyes. "You're wasting your time. We all know that none of us are gonna make it. If he took the effort to blow us up then once he finds out we're alive, he'll come kill us."

"But-" I begin.

"I'm gonna die and I've come to face that. He's gonna kill me and I'm okay with that," she opens her eyes and turns her head to face me. "I need you to accept it too."