Beep-

Where was I…? Why was there so much pain? The almost non-existent, "Mommy," that left my mouth only left me in more pain than I had been in before. Before I could open my eyes, I had to squeeze them shut to shake off the pain.

Beep-

Beep-

I glanced at my surroundings, a dirty white with little to no décor. The only color in the room was the small vase of flowers to my right, a small 'Get Well!' card attached to it with a piece of twine.

Beep-

I opened my eyes to scan the card… James.

Beep-

James…

Beep-

Beep-

Beep-

Beep…

The pain was ebbing, but practically every beep of the heart monitor brought the headache back to full force; except, full force wasn't quite so full with each succession. And as the pain was swallowed, I got the courage to look into the mirror, tucked into a basket under the table the vase was lying on.

Beep-

There was a jagged scar running across my cheek and ears were torn. They could heal the wounds almost instantaneously at the cost that we had scar tissue. I must've been in a severe state if they used it.

Beep-

Or… James may've pulled some strings.

No…

Beep-

That fucking sound made me want to cry… it did make me cry. A single tear broke the dam and allowed the torrent to pass through as I sobbed through my frustration. The entire god damn room smelled like him but my scent was masked by the scent of death, the stale, bitter tang of blood and decay. They were at the funeral for Vixy. I killed her… but, I didn't mean it.

Beep-

I tore the IVs from my arm and yanked the plug on the heart monitor as I threw myself up and looked for my clothes. Every god damn step hurt. I wasn't visibly damaged, but the blast had to have left me sore. Then my face, my face… fuck!

I found the casual outfit I had been wearing, clean despite the stale scent of blood. I switched from my hospital gown to my clothes, trying to avoid looking at my body for fear it too had been scarred beyond recognition.

I slipped from the hospital unnoticed. It wasn't the public hospital; it was definitely nicer than the clinic. I'm assuming James paid for that too.

Why am I chasing a widow? The emphasis on widow made me want to cry again. My eyes were already red, puffy, and sore. I was really sore.

I knew why I did it, but it was such a stupid reason. Killing over hopes that I could change him, be there and have him love me… damn, he's straight, so undeniably straight.

A glimmer that I chased for fucking nothing… and now… now… damn it! I wasn't even old enough to drink but that's all I wanted, was to drown my sorrows in alcohol until I fucking died from alcohol poisoning. That'd just about settle it, balance out that crime I commit against Vixy, against James.

As I got through the doorways into the parking lot, I couldn't help but take in deep breaths, the chilly bite of the wind waking me up and making my lungs feel like they were alive.

My wrist communicator, on my wrist, was giving me a small 3D projection of a map. I could easily spot James' house, with its entire look of destruction. I quietly trudged on to my destination.

The small beep of my communicator alerted me of a message, and as I glanced at it, my heart soared. James didn't know anything about what had happened, and the text was annotated with a 'Love James,' rather than a 'Sincerely James.' It took all I had -which wasn't much after the hospital visit- to not dance.