Half-Jack

Chapter 1

I am running... faster...faster I go down a dark, dingy hallway. I do not know what is after me but I can here it getting louder and louder with each stride. Metal boots clank after me and my legs start to ache. I look back but all i see is the long, disproportionate shadow of a man. His arms  are outstretched and he is almost at my feet but he is only a silhouette. My breathe becomes ragged and my legs ache with pain but I press on with fear... beep, beep, beep...

It was only a dream. I tell myself as I lay in the bed in a heap of sweat. My eyes are still closed in fear that I may still be dreaming. It seemed so real as I was running. I don't know why I was running though, it was almost out of instinct. As if I knew I had to run with no reasoning behind it. I take in a deep breath. Open your eyes, this is ridiculous!

 I start with my left eye, opening it with a slight hesitation but when I see the hospital room filled with chaos I open my other eye quickly with surprise. Through all the fear of this nightmare I had forgotten about the hospital and had been expecting to wake up in the familiar bedroom of my apartment. I slouch in my bed with disappointment. I wanted to be in my warm apartment, cuddled in my blanket, drinking tea but instead im stuck here... in this crumy hospital.... 

Though the hospital is in chaos I can still feel someones eyes on me. Out of the corner of my eye I can see two giant blue orbs, intently observing me to see what will happen next. I fumble for my glasses on the dresser beside me and when I finally get them on I turn to my left and find my doctor's eyes looking my way. I gather all of the hatred in my body and glare at him. And let me tell you if glares could killl he would be dead. But he does not even so much as twitch.

"What do you want?" I ask, frustration and anger curdling my voice until it is ferocious and rich.

A slight smile forms on his face and I begin to think he is not as gentle as he first appeared. " You were thrashing in your sleep," he says calmly.

What? Shouldn't he have awoken me so I didn't slow down my progress? Isn't that dangerous? I mean with a concussion and the rest of my injuries I could have seriously interrupted my progress. After my mother had stopped cry the doctor told be that I had suffered a massive head injury and that in turn the doctor had to operate on my brain and that some of the parts of my brain were no longer mine anymore. They had replaced about a quarter of it. On top of that I had broken several ribs and the bone in my right leg had snapped right in half. The doctor said that I was lucky to not have broken my back and become paralyzed and I agreed with him. Now hearing about the thrashing that I was supposedly doing in my sleep I wonder how I pulled it off without waking myself from the pain and if his comment about being lucky for not breaking my back was genuine or if he had just said it for the benefit of everyone else in the room. All this thinking is hurting my head and it makes me so tired that I almost want to go back to sleep but I do not let myself because of Dr Macintosh's presence in the room. 

He sits on the other side of the room, elbows on his knees, eagerly watching each move I make. What does he want from me I don't understand. There is a knock on the door and he instantly rises to his feet and walks up to the side of my bed. 

"Come in," he says with a light smile. 

My mother enters the room. Her eyes are no longer swollen with tears but they still possess the same bags that made her look tired the day before. "You're awake again," she says with a relieved smile. 

Dr Macintosh wears his gentle smile and I wonder if I am the only person who sees the other side of him. " I told you she would make it through the night. Your daughter is in good hands."

My mother is relaxed by his words and I can see the anxiety in her posture lessen ever so slightly. She looks younger then she did yesterday, more organized and collected. Her hair cascades down her back in voluminous curls, reflecting every shade of auburn, her eyes are a piercing violet shade surrounded by black eyeliner and mascara, her nails perfectly manicured and long, the only things that give away her troubled state is the unavoidable bags under her eyes. She must have gone to the salon this morning so she could return to her normal self but they mustn't have had a good stylist today if they didn't even know how to apply cover up.