Criticism spot! :)
Crutchie's POV
When I woke up Jack was, yet again, not in bed, his spot cold. I sat up and looked at the nightstand closest to me, seeing a piece of bread with a note. I picked it up, quickly recognizing Jack's messy handwriting.
Race needed me, not sure if I'll be back before it's time to sell, but I'll try. Remember to go easy on yourself, and I finally give you my blessing to try walking with your crutch. I left it against the wall right beside you. You aren't allowed to walk until you eat, though, and I'll know if you do. Don't ask how, I just will.
If you're reading this, I didn't make it back in time, but I'll see you tonight. I love you.
- Jack
I could help but chuckle at Jack's letter, adoring the jokes he had made. I ate with a smile on my face, noticing how little pain I was feeling, most if it coming from my foot and hand. Once I had finished I took a deep breath, wanting to see if I could walk. I swung my legs off the bed and grabbed my crutch, taking one last breath before pulling myself up and positioning it under my arm as usual. I was shaking a little, but knew that was only because I hadn't had to stand or walk for quite a while.
I gathered all of my strength and took a few steps, surprising myself by how far I made it. I knew I should turn back, though, not wanting to risk pushing myself too far. I was halfway back to the bed when I had to stop and take a break, shaking worse than I had been when I started. I took a deep, deep breath, beginning to walk again. I only made it a few more steps, however, when I collapsed, catching myself with my hands by instinct. Pain shot through my entire left arm, making me scream out in pain. I turned so my back was resting against the bed while I sat on the floor, trying to ignore the pain. The door flew open suddenly, catching me completely off guard since I thought no one was here. Race ran to my side, worried.
"Are you okay?" He asked, and instead of lying, I shook my head. "What happened?"
"I tried walking, but I fell and tried to catch myself with my hands," I explained, making sure I wasn't starting to panic or anything. "Why're you still here?" I asked, wanting to ignore the pain.
"I forgot something and had to run back here. Do you need help getting back into bed?" He asked, and I shook my head again.
"I'm okay. You can go sell." I said, clearly defeated. He hesitated before standing, knowing that I'd be upset if he decided to help me anyway. He started to walk out of the room when I suddenly thought about Jack, not wanting him to be disappointed in me. "Wait," I said, grabbing Race's attention. "Please don't tell Jack this happened," I pleaded, confusing him.
"Why not?" He walked back over to me, kneeling down.
"I just... I don't want him to know. Please." I begged, but it was clear I wasn't convincing him.
"He should know, Crutchie. Your hand got hurt, that's something we can't hide from him." I could tell he wanted to do as I was asking of him, but deep down I also knew that Jack had to find out.
"Fine," I mumbled, wanting to be alone. Race stood, walking back to the door.
"You sure you don't need help getting back in bed?" He asked one more time, and I nodded, trying my best to smile. "Alright. Get some more rest."
After he left I got right back into bed, grabbing my journal as I knew I should write about how worried I was that Jack would be disappointed. Before I did, I stopped on the page he had done 'corrections' on, smiling to myself as I read it for the millionth time. As I did I could feel a weight being lifted off my chest, still wanting to write, but changing how I felt about it all.
Trying my best to listen.
I am trying as hard as I can right now to ignore that voice in my head that insists Jack is going to be disappointed in me. I was believing it for a while, but right as I went to write this, I stopped on the page that he wrote over, reading it for probably the hundredth time. It helped me to shut down that voice in my head a bit, but it's still there, trying to get in. I'm doing my best right now to listen to Jack, not this mean voice. I should also be proud of myself, I mean, I may have fallen, but I got way farther than I thought I would! Of course, each time I get happy about my progress, my brain goes "well you should've gone farther." I'm trying though, and I need to remember that trying is enough.
I set my journal down, already feeling far better than I had before. I was already exhausted from the little work I had done, so I laid down, heading back to sleep.
"Nothing." I heard, the voice unfamiliar. I was standing in pitch-blackness, confused. "You are nothing." I tried to walk, but no matter where I went I still couldn't see anything.
"Hello?" I called out, feeling lost.
"Stop trying to get better. It'll never work." The voice continued, growing louder.
"Who are you?" I asked, not hiding my fear.
"Stop trying to tell yourself that you're worth it. You are nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"That's- that's not true!" I fought back, growing more terrified.
"You are nothing!" The voice repeated, now yelling.
"Stop!"
"You are nothing!"
"That's not true!" I kept trying to fight back, but each time the voice would just repeat the same line, until I finally gave up.
I hoped that if I stopped responding that it'd stop, but instead it just began to repeat it over and over without waiting to see if I'd say anything. I felt like I was sitting there for hours, being screamed at by something I couldn't even see.
I woke up quickly, having a panic attack. I had no idea what time it was, but I could see that Jack wasn't home yet, so I couldn't lay against him until I calmed down. Just to make sure I wouldn't get worse, I looked around the room, making sure that I was still in the lodging house. I couldn't stop shaking horribly, so I grabbed my journal, thinking that writing might help me to calm down. When I opened it to the next clean page, though, I just stared at it. I didn't know where to begin, and no matter what I did I couldn't stop hearing the voice from my dream screaming. Finally I decided I'd write just that, unable to get anything else out.
You are nothing.
I looked at it for a moment before I closed the journal, setting it back on the nightstand. I then grabbed my pillow and held it against me, crying into it.
I wasn't sure how long I had been sitting there when the door opened, and Jack was in the doorway. I looked up at him, putting my face right back in the pillow after just a few seconds. He walked over to my side of the bed, sitting down.
"Are you okay?" He asked, and just as I had done with Race, I decided I'd be honest and shook my head. "Bad dream?" I nodded, feeling him get closer. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I looked up from the pillow again, wiping my face dry.
"No, it's alright. Just a stupid dream." I tried, but it was clear I didn't make him any less worried. "It's nothing more than my own, stupid head. Just forget it."
"I can tell you ain't okay. I don't like seeing you upset." He pushed my hair from my face, and I tried as best I could to smile.
"It's okay, I just need to calm down is all. I promise that I'm gonna be fine, alright?" Jack sighed, knowing I wouldn't give up.
"Okay, okay. How's your hand doing?" He finally asked, causing me to feel sick to my stomach.
"It's better. Doesn't hurt any worse than usual."
"I'm sorry I wasn't here to help," he mumbled, breaking my heart a little.
"You don't have anything to apologize for. You did nothing wrong." He smiled back at me now, sighing. "Can we stop talking about it, though?" I asked, and Jack nodded.
"'Course. It's game night tonight, do you wanna go?"
"It'd be nice to get out of this room," we both chuckled, and Jack smiled at me again, no longer looking worried.
After eating dinner and spending a little bit of time relaxing, it was time to head to game night. I was worried I wouldn't make it, but thankfully I made it there just fine. When we walked in we had to pass Walter, and while I felt just fine doing so, I could feel Jack tense up with anger.
"Do you always drag your foot on the ground like that?" Walter suddenly asked, making both of us stop to look at him.
"Uh, yeah," I said, not hiding my irritation.
"Doesn't that hurt it?" he continued, and Jack moved closer to me so we were almost touching.
"Only sometimes, not sure why you care." I could tell Jack was surprised by my harsh tone, but he remained quiet, as he was far angrier than I was.
"Well I thought you wouldn't be able to handle any pain with the way you cried like a baby when I hardly touched it." I clutched the handle of my crutch tighter, starting to feel pissed off.
"You twisted it in circles, that'll obviously hurt me a lot." I managed to keep my composure, getting angrier and angrier.
"You're just such a pussy I didn't expect you to be able to do that." I finally grew angry enough for Jack to tell, and he rested his hand on my shoulder as a signal to calm down.
"Don't talk about me like you know me," I spat, ignoring Jack.
"I know you pretty damn well. But I mean, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how weak you are." Jack then took his hand off my shoulder, getting ready to argue.
"You don't know shit about me," I said, wanting to scream in his face.
"I know that your Dad used to beat you," Walter yelled, making the entire room go quiet. I stared at him, at a total loss for words.
"... What?" Was all I could get out, unable to take my eyes off of him.
"Your Dad used to beat your ass, right?" I was completely frozen with fear at this point, no longer able to speak. Jack saw just how upset I was and stepped in front of me, blocking me from Walter.
"Game night is canceled, everyone go the fuck to sleep." Jack said, and everyone shuffled out in silence. Jack turned around to look at me now, but I didn't look back at him, instead staring at the ground. "C'mon," he said, and we went back to the room without another word.
Rather than getting all the way in bed, I sat with my legs over it, continuing not to look at Jack. He sat next to me, not saying anything as he didn't want to push me to talk if I wasn't up to it.
"I'm never gonna truly get away from him, am I?" I finally broke the silence, looking at Jack.
"You are." Jack reassured me, moving so he was now sitting directly behind me. He put his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder.
"Can we go look at the stars?" I suddenly asked, and Jack got up with a smile.
"Of course," he put his hand out to help me up, and we went right to the rooftop.
We laid there in silence for a while, and my mind was still going wild with worries. I had completely spaced out while looking at the stars, not noticing that Jack had turned his head to me.
"Are you okay babe?" He asked, knowing the answer. Normally, I'd smile at him calling me babe, but I couldn't.
"I'm just worried." I sighed, turning my head to him.
"About what?"
"What if..." I trailed off, unable to look at him while I spoke. "What if I end up being just like my Dad?" My eyes began to burn with tears right away, but I refused to cry, holding them back.
"You're nothing like him, Crutchie." He said, still looking at me.
"I guess." I glanced at him for a moment, having to look back to the stars in order not to cry. "It just seems pointless sometimes." I could feel Jack grow worried, only making it harder to look at him.
"What does?" He asked, his voice quiet.
"Everything." He stayed silent for a moment, thinking about what I had said.
"Do you still want to kill yourself?" He asked bluntly, sitting up just a little. All I did was nod, not wanting to admit it to him. "Crutch, why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought I'd just get over it." I said, the tears finally falling.
"Those thoughts aren't just something you get over by staying quiet. Even I had to talk to Race about it." I stared at him for a moment, confused.
"You never told me you've felt that way before," we both sat up now, and Jack sighed.
"I always felt a little... Embarrased I guess about it, just because I'm s'posed to be this tough guy who has his shit together." He looked out to the skyline for a few seconds, seeming hesitant. "But, yeah. I have. It was mostly the first time I escaped the refuge. I mean, you know what it's like in there, so I don't need to explain why." I nodded, looking down at my hands. "Race was the only kid here who I felt okay around. He was having the same thoughts I was, but each of us made sure the other was taking care of themselves, and if they needed to talk or really felt the urge to attempt, we promised that we'd talk to each other. That's how we got through it." I was unable to respond, continuing to cry while I looked down. "Crutchie," Jack said, gently lifting my head so I was looking at him. "You are everything to me." I couldn't help but smile just a little bit, still feeling a weight on my chest. "You seem tired."
"I am," I mumbled, wiping my face dry.
"Let's get to bed, then."
We got ready and in bed silently, and once we were laying down I immediately shifted so I was against Jack. He started to play with my hair, making me feel slightly better.
"When can we go back to the penthouse?" I asked, looking up at him.
"Just a few more days. You should get some of your strength back." He kissed me on the head, smiling. "Now go to sleep. You need rest." I closed my eyes, my head against his chest, falling asleep minutes after.
Unlike the previous few days, Jack was still beside me when I woke up, his arms around me. I smiled when I looked up at him, trying to make this moment last as long as it could. Only seconds later, though, there was a knock at the door, making Jack get up. It was Race, and he walked into the room with a big smile.
"Morning!" He said, and I sat up so I could see him better. "I'm here to check on your hand if that's alright," Jack quickly looked at me, waiting for my response.
"Sure," I answered, and Race sat down on the bed.
"How's the pain?" He asked, studying my left hand closely.
"Uh, it's better," for some reason I didn't want to look at Jack while I spoke, my heart pounding from how nervous I was about what Race might say.
"That's good," he said with a smile, glancing at me. "Put your hands side-by-side and palm up," he instructed, and I did just that. "Alright, now do what you did the other day, try putting both hands in a fist."
I took a deep breath, not knowing what might happen, as I hadn't been moving my hand. Finally, I did as Race had instructed, finding it unbelievably difficult to close my left hand. I was only able to get it about halfway to a fist, unable to move it any further. I felt sick to my stomach, wanting to scream in frustration.
"Okay, relax," Race said, and I relaxed my hands. "Take a second and then I'll ask you to try again." Jack then stood right beside us, watching. "Alright, try again." I did just that, struggling just as much as I had the first time. "I can tell it's definitely getting better! Just hang in there, it'll be better before you know it." Race stood up, leaving the room. I sat there, staring at my hands and wanting to break down. Jack knelt beside me, pushing my hair back so he could see my face better.
"You okay?" He asked, his tone soft. "He said it's getting better," Jack continued, resting his hand on my knee.
"I'm just... So fucking done," I said as I began to sob, only making Jack worry more as I cussed.
"Hey, take a breath." He said, keeping his voice gentle.
"I don't want to do this anymore, Jack," he then sat right in front of me on the bed, not hiding his concern.
"It's going to be okay. It's getting better," he tried, but I shook my head.
"My foot started to get better at one fucking point to, but now look where I am," I said, knowing I was about to ramble.
"This is different from your foot-"
"No it fucking isn't, stop coddling me," I began, only crying harder. I had started to shake now, my chest feeling tight. "It's useless, all of it is useless. I- I don't know why..." I had to pause to catch my breath, starting to stutter because of just how quickly my breathing had become. "I don't k-know why I ever thought I could live just a little normally. I'm so- so fucking stupid. I should've known this was all too good to be true. I'm such a fucking idiot," I had to stop talking, my breathing become far too fast for me to do so. Jack then pulled me in tightly against him, putting his hand on the back of my head.
"Stop talking to yourself like that," he said, somehow still sounding quiet. "That isn't you talking, it's your past. You are getting better. Your hand is healing. You're going to be okay." He backed away from me, gently wiping my face dry as he smiled at me sympathetically. "Today is just going to be you and I, okay? We're going to relax and ignore everything around us. It'll be just us." I couldn't help but smile a little, my breathing returning to normal.
Just as Jack had said, we spent the entire day with one another, not thinking about anything else outside and allowing ourselves to enjoy the moment. I was feeling better already, as I always did when spending time with Jack.
(word count - 3236)