The Rejection

I don't blame you for hating me right now...

Song: "Sweet Dreams" by Marilyn Manson.
(((Yeah, yeah, I know. My music taste is a little out of whack ;P)))

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The Rejection - 22
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Jason's P.O.V.

Motionless, stock still, frozen, ....dead.

These were the things that appeared in my mind as I stared upon Hope's motionless body. But, that last one...that last one really put a hurting to my chest.

No, I scolded myself, she is NOT dead.

I couldn't think that way. If I did, all I would do was go into a depression or worse, go into a rampage and kill anything and everything that got in my way or tried to stop me. Even at the moment, my body was in a depression, but my mind was on the rampage. It kept projecting different ways to murder that son of a bitch, Derrek.

It's been a week since we rescued Hope. A week full of depression and sadness for me, for the others...I did not know. I never left my bedroom, which was where Hope was resting, in my bed. I, on the other hand, slept on the couch in front of her or slept on the chair next to her. I had Victor bring me my meals, even though I rarely ate them. I practically dumped all the duties of being an Alpha on him, since I was in no way, shape or form, to be running a pack at the moment.

I continued to look upon the beautiful creature in front of me. She looked so peaceful...but weak and fragile at the same time, like porcelain. The smoothness of her dark hair and soft skin just reminded me of one of those really expensive dolls that collectors have. And the small smile that was placed on her lips warmed my heart, until I remembered that she was in a coma, then the depression set in again. But, the worse thing was, I couldn't do anything to help her. She had to fight this on her own.

A light knocking coming from the door caused me to turn my attention away from the sleeping beauty and onto the idiot coming in.

"It's open," I said in a low, flat tone that showed no emotion at all. I turned my head away from the door and began to stare at Hope again, not paying attention to who was entering.

"Jason?" Thalia's small voice called into the room, cracking slightly. I didn't reply, I didn't want to. "Patricia is here to check up on....to do a check up." Thalia's voice was hoarse, as if she had been crying. I knew she had been, though. This was the poor girl's best friend on line between life and death, how could she not cry?

I nodded once to tell her I heard, but didn't take my eyes off of Hope. I heard the low sound of the door closing and footsteps coming towards me. I looked up for a moment, a brief one, to catch sight of the pack doctor, Patricia. She was in her early fifties, but she looked like she was still in her mid-thirties.

"Hello..." Patricia's greeting was quiet and hesitant, but I didn't reply. I wasn't sure if I was able at the moment. When Patricia realized this, she began to do all sorts of little tests on Hope to see if she was still doing okay. After she was finished, she put all her little bobs and beads (not actually bobs and beads, but you get my point) back into her bag and snapped it shut. "Well, it seems that she has made no signs of improvement..."

My heart felt like it was literally breaking, the pain of losing her would push me over the edge. I would honestly die if I didn't have her alive.

"...but," Patricia continued, "she hasn't made any decreasing in health either. So, therefore, she is the same as yesterday." I nodded meekly and looked down at my hands. Well, I guess it was better than a definite death, but still, not good. She nodded in response and left the room without another word. Just before the door completely closed, Thalia walked into quietly and sat across from me on the other side of the bed from Hope.

My eyes peeled from Hope for a moment to look at Thalia's expression; it was sad, devastated, in fact. When she looked up, I could see the tears forming in her big brown puppy dog eyes. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Michael isn't doing any better..." she said, her voice hoarse.

It took all I had not to scoff. "Like I give a damn if he's doing okay or not. I'm not worried about him at all. He'll get his damn memory back eventually." Oh, did I forget to mention this? Yeah, well, Michael has amnesia and apparently doesn't even know who he is. Yep, now he really is stupid.