Page 158 of Silent Damage

“Why?” I wail.

What a stupid question. I know why…because of this fucking man letting Jason into this goddamn gang.

Tobias approaches, and I leap to my feet and scream, “Back off! Don’t get near him.”

His eyes widen in shock. “This happened because of you! Don’t you fucking get near him!”

Tobias attempts to say some bullshit about getting the guys who did this, and the fury within explodes out of me.

“What good will that do? Will it bring him back? Huh?”

“He’s not dead,” Tobias says in a pained voice.

“But his brain might be.”

Nothing can stop me now.

Fuck silence.

The flames of hell rage inside me, and all I want to do is annihilate this man. I feel like I did the night I killed Dad.

“You did this to him.” My voice is low, almost demonic. “He’s not even twenty-one. You let him into this shit show, and look what happened. He doesn’t deserve this. His life was hard enough, and he looked up to you—wanted to make you proud. And what did you do?” I point to Jason’s mangled body. “Look at him!”

Tobias’s face cracks. His skin turns sallow, and his throat bobs as he swallows.

“If he wakes up—when he wakes up,” I say, pointing at him. “You let him leave if he wants to. He’s a stubborn bastard and loves you, so he might not want to, but if he does—” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You will let him leave. Do you understand?”

Tobias looks at Jason, his chest rising and falling. “If he wants to leave. He can.”

My eyes land on Jason—on his poor, pitiful face.

“Now, get out,” I tell Tobias. “And take your assholes with you.”

Once they’re gone, Mom wraps her arms around me, sniffling and crying, as the medical staff comes back in.

I kneel beside the bed, running my fingers over the scrapes on Jason’s fingers, when the nurse approaches with the chair again. “Please,” she says.

I take a seat and link my pinky with Jason’s, but I pull away and ask, “Is this okay? Am I hurting him?”

The nurse shakes her head. “Not at all.”

I look at her nametag. Constance. The doctor approaches. “I know this is very hard. Please know we’ll do everything we can for him.”

“Are you his doctor?” Mom asks.

He nods. “Yes, I’m Doctor Shiffren.”

“D-do you think—” I swallow, nearly falling apart all over again. “Do you think he has brain damage?”

“It’s too early to know,” the doctor replies.

“What can I do?” I ask. “How can I help? I’ll do anything.”

Constance rests her hand on my shoulder. “Talk to him.”

I look up at her, and the doctor adds, “We encourage family to talk to patients who are in this condition. Whether they're aware of it or not, a familiar voice can be comforting.”

I look at Jason—at his damaged body. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”