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Jackson
Long after Cara has left, I’m still devastated from the look on her face. She looked at me hopelessly, like she wanted me to be someone else.
Like she wanted me to be Logan.
Someone who would stand by her through the muddy waters of life and not shut down. Go dark.
Go silent.
But I can’t, because I’m a fuckin’ cripple and there ain’t no fixing me this time.
It’s better off if she goes and lives her life and leaves me to wither away into a pile of bones. And of course, now she wants to keep the baby. Now that I’m a useless breathing body that can’t contribute anything. And I’ve got no idea if that shit is ever going to change.
The doctors haven’t given me any indication if I’ll ever walk again. I’ve done test after test and the doctors looks on their face when they see the results gives me no hope of the future. Their eyes speak the words they won’t say. There is hopelessness mixed with fear in them as they stare at me with a frown. They don’t want to be the one to say to Rich Malone or the son of one if his partners that he’ll never be able to stand, walk, or piss into a toilet again.
If I were home and not trapped in this room surrounded by people, I’d have ended it days ago.
But I can’t, because they keep a close watch on me and I’m constantly being guarded.
Fucking Randall.
My fucking father. I hope he’s rotting in hell with the worst of them. I’ve asked Easton and Rich what they did with him. No one says a word. Hugo won’t even say a peep about it. I hope it’s just because there are ears around the corner. If they think they’re saving me from his gruesome death, they really don’t know me.
I hope they ripped his organs out one by one and then fed them to him as his last meal.
He deserves the worst of the worst. Maybe this is my penance for my bad deeds, because if I were dead, I’d find his ass and be his own personal devil.
The fact that he plunged a knife into Cara’s pregnant stomach is enough to make me want to tear apart this sterile fucking room. If I could move a muscle, that is.
Cara.
Her stupid decision in deciding to keep the baby. It only took her nine months to make this decision. I know she’ll make a good mother. The faces that she’d make at her stomach when she thought no one was looking. She wanted the baby as much as she wanted air.
I wish I could be there to help her, but with the darkness I feel seeping inside of me, I know I won’t be able to be there for her.
I’ll only ever bring her down.
I close my eyes, because there’s nothing to do besides blink these days. I can turn my head from side to side, but once I hit my shoulders, it’s like I have no body. Except for when I look down, it’s still there. Limp, useless, fucking pathetic.
I’ve chosen not to speak because I have nothing to say, but when Cara came in the room the words just flooded out. As they always have lately. She gets me to be about as normal as I can be.
My teeth grind together violently. The only girl in my life, and it’s over.
There’s no use in trying. Why would she ever want to be with a fuckin’ cripple? Someone who will never be able to walk, possibly ever move again?
She’ll have to… what… roll me from side to side so I don’t get bed sores?
Give me a bath because I can’t soap myself?
No. Hell fucking no.
When I saw the red seep into the shirt on her stomach, there was a squeezing of my heart that I’ve never felt in my life. A panic that made me want to scream so loudly the walls of The Pit crumbled to the ground.
I didn’t feel this way when Wren died.
Not when my dad beat me to the brink of death.
Not even when Logan, one of my greatest friends I’ll ever have, died protecting me.
