Keep Running (Killjoy)

21

D.A.'s POV:
My three girls were sitting at the edges of the bed I was laying on. Also joining them was the adorable Missile Kid who had been newly introduced to them. I could tell that she fit in pretty well and the other three would love her as easily as I came to.

"I could never run a mile without getting winded before the BL/Ind crap." Wyvern commented, completely in opposition to her current athletic build.

"I don't think anyone could do the mile without dying at the end." Grenade added, rolling her eyes at the memory.

"Wait, why would you need to run a mile?" Missile asked.

"We had to take fitness classes and they forced us to run for a mile at least once a week. It was horrible." Lithium explained.

"And they didn't care if it was burning hot or pouring rain, you had to put on the nasty dude-shorts and ugly t-shirt then go out running with everyone else." I continued.

Missile scrunched her face in disgust.

"Yeah, but as a killjoy you just kinda have to run for your life without thinking about being tired." Wyvern said.

"The miles we ran in fitness did not help with running in real life." Grenade shook her head.

"Well there's one thing I'm glad I could miss." Missile chuckled.

"What else is there?" Grenade thought out loud.

"So many school-related problems." Lithium answered.

"Party told me that he was bad in school. He said he stopped caring so that was why he wasn't all that great in it." Missile continued.

"Ha! I relate." Grenade piped up.

"The three of us would stress out so much. I can remember when finals were coming up and we were just nervous wrecks that constantly crammed studying." Lithium sighed, referring to the rest of us.

A few flashbacks popped into my mind about those days of the past. It was mental torture. A different kind of horrible in comparison to the suffering we went through in the killjoy lifestyle. A more physical type of  torture that was actually life-threatening if we didn't make it through. Proven easily by the fact that I was lying on a hospital bed with a wound that had the potenetial to kill me.

"What time is it?" Wyvern suddenly interrupted the discussion.

"Quarter after 2 in the afternoon, why?" I replied, checking the clock on the wall opposite of us.

"Shït, I said I'd meet someone at 2. See you guys later!" She rushed out of the doorway.

"Wait, who?" I called out behind her, receiving no reply.

"She's been doing that for a few days now. We've secretly followed her a few times and saw who she was with." Grenade blurted out.

"And...?" I waited.

"It's Kobra." Grenade smirked.

"Wait, really? I thought he was closed off." I replied.

"Well not with her. She got him to open up apparently." Lithium shrugged.

"Cool." I let the news sink in.

The girls got hungry and decided to leave me after telling me all of the most recent events in their lives, including the few missions that had continued. They told me how there were more Dracs and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W's out in the zones, making each trip out more dangerous than before. Party was still out fighting with the rest of the killjoys, obviously, and had become more determined to keep everyone safe. Nothing much more was said, and I was back to being alone in the dull hospital room.

Being alone was alright. Sometimes it was great, like when you wanted to think about life for a little while and need to get away from the nerves you get from being around people. Other times, being left alone was the worst thing that could happen. Not having human support makes people who feel upset feel worse about themselves. I knew that from personal experience and never wanted to think such self-destructive thoughts ever again. It pained me to think that people close to me easily felt the same horrid way that I did.

My nurse came into the room with a cart of supplies she would need to check up on my condition. She watched the data of the heart monitor first, then moved onto testing my breathing patterns with the stethoscope. I sat up on the bed and did whatever she asked of me for the next few minutes. An unsatisfactory look came across her usually pleasant face, signalling that bad news was about to be announced and the doctor hadn't even looked over the infected wound yet. In fact, the doctor wasn't even in the room.

"Your heart patterns have been slowing a little bit, but that's not the bad news. Your breathing's uneven from the wound causing you pain and needing more oxygen since your body is still trying to heal it, making more blood flow to the wound. Basically, you're bleeding out." The nurse frowned.

"So...I'm dying?"

"I can't tell you how much longer you have to live, but you do have a more limited time. I'm so sorry to have to say so."

My eyes teared up for the umpteenth time of the week. I hated feeling so incontinent and emotional.

The nurse went out the doorway, telling me one last thing: "You'll be given an approximate timeline when the doctor comes in about five minutes. I don't know what to really say other than you were a wonderful fighter and deserve so much honor for your dedication and service to protecting us. Thank you."

My unnamed, quiet, kind nurse almost made me shed the tears caught in my eyes. Her brief words were so touching to me and I wasn't used to being acknowledged like that. Then my thoughts changed to death. What would become of me? I definitely wasn't the best person out there, although I had hope that I wasn't the worst. How would everyone I'm leaving behind be? Hopefully they could all move on and find happiness. But being a selfish human, I wanted them to feel sad at my departure of life to reassure their attachment to me. Suddenly, the door opened to the distressed-looking doctor. My fingers reached up to wipe away the tears, hoping to look even slightly stronger than I felt.