Thinking Different Thoughts

Chapter 9

"He's conscious now if you want to ask questions," a woman I scrubs said. The man nodded and walked into the room. I wondered when we had gotten into the actual hospital. I was seriously having a hard time paying attention to anything.

Time passed and I grew tired while the sky grew dark. It was nine-thirty before Tyler walked out of the room across the hall. I was half asleep in the chair. It was raining again.

"Hey," he muttered, looking down the hall at some people talking. He looked miserable and he was holding an arm on his stomach. I stood up quickly.

"Are you okay?" I asked quickly.

"Yes. Can we go now?" He said angrily.

"Uh.... Yeah." I said. "But how?"

"Call a taxi or something?" He looked tired and done with everything. He looked at me and stopped scowling. "I'm sorry. I was just beaten until I passed out twice and that put in not the best of moods, if you couldn't guess." He said.

I nodded and stuffed my hands in my pockets.

My phone. Shit. It must have killed it to throw it against the wall like that.

"Can I use your phone?" I asked quietly.

Tyler grabbed the white phone out of his pocket and handed it to me with a curious look. I didn't want to tell him why I didn't have my phone.

I called a taxi place so we could get back to the school. I assumed Tyler wanted to go back and sleep since he had been in the hospital for hours. Or eat. He might have been hungry. I seriously was.

I didn't say anything while we stood by the door. I didn't know what to ask him or what to say about the situation or anything.

"Mitch was my old room mate," he said solemnly. "He died on Halloween, car accident. The damn bastard was drunk." He explained. I was shocked he had sworn, more than hearing the story. I didn't know anything about Mitch except that they used to be roommates.

"Sorry for swearing," he apologised, looking at his feet. His legs were really skinny and really pale besides a few bruises and the scabs on his knees.

I laughed at this. "Sorry for swearing? I swear all the time! I don't care if you say 'damn' or 'bastard'."

He cracked a smile at this and put his hands in his pockets.

"C'mon," I said. We went back to the dorms.

"So who did it?" I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed. He mimicked me, sitting opposite me on his.

"No one, don't worry about it." He said. We had talked to the principal lady because she had been notified he had been taken to the hospital. She would make it a school-wide thing anyways. So if he told her or me then maybe something could be done.

"Someone did this, obviously," I said.

"If I tell you then you'll just go to them and then something'll happen to you. I don't want anything to happen to you." He said.

That was bullshit. I knew he was right - I would probably try and get revenge in some way, but I also wanted to make sure he didn't go near that person again. I was really worried about him. He had a black eye, a loose tooth, a bunch of bruises, and he was cut up in a few places. And the scars.

Don't bring them up. If he knows you saw the scars he'll probably never talk to you again. Don't push it. Be nice to him. Be nice. Respect everything he asks and does and says and all that. Stay with him. Protect him.

I also knew I couldn't get an answer out of him by force. He had told me about Mitch. but only after I had waited after asking. Maybe he would tell me about this. I didn't want to push it.

We got dressed into sleepwear, well, in my case I undressed into my boxers. He wore a t-shirt and either basketball shorts or actual pyjama bottoms.

I gasped despite myself when he took his shirt off. His ribs were black and blue, his stomach was purple and blue, and he was hunched over a little. I kept noticing things I hadn't seen when he had clothes on. I turned away as he put a shirt on so I didn't make him any more upset. There were small cuts and large bruises and everything I saw made me more and more angry. I would kill whoever did this to him; but who did it?

And how? How could someone do something so terrible to another human being? Dead or alive? How could someone want to hurt and torture someone? Mentally or physically?

You did this. Not to him, but you've done this to other people. At your old school. You thought you might be able to feel something. Is that what they're feeling? Hope? To feel? Whatever. You were an idiot. so are they.

I walked past Tyler, turned off the light, walked back, kissed him lightly on the cheek since I thought his lips would hurt being cut up, and I fell into my bed. A soft light streamed in through the window. I couldn't see Tyler, though, and normally I could.

I felt the bed move a little under weight and the blanket lifted then fell. Tyler moved so he was next to me - not quite touching - and his head was on my shoulder. I searched for his waist and pulled him closer. He was really warm. I didn't want to hurt him, so I tried not to touch him too much or be to forceful. I just felt terrible and he smelled really nice. Like strawberries and vanilla. It was funny. And cute. Like him.

You're such a sap, Josh.

"Goodnight," he said, his head on my chest. We had both been facing the other a second ago, but now I was on my back and he was next to me on his side. Like a really cliché movie. I grabbed his hand, being careful because I really didn't want to cause him any more pain.

"G'night." I said. Thank god for Friday.