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~Inferno~
Chapter One
Sam gazed out Jack’s third story hospital room window. It had been three weeks since the fire and Jack was still having trouble staying awake. Snow white bandages covered most of his body and parts of his face. Sam reached across the bed and lovingly squeezed Jack's bandaged hand. How she longed for a precious mumble or one of his slight smiles—something, anything, to reassure her that her Jack was still himself under all those dressings. She felt his mittened hand return pressure to her own and she broke a grin as Jack's pale blue eyes opened ever so slightly in a rare display of awareness. Jack knew her; Sam had always been sure of that. He’d let her know every so often by whispering her name or squeezing her hand. The nurses said he may not ever regain his full memory. Something about amnesia caused by trauma. Sam was just thrilled that Jack was alive and remembered her, if nothing else. Maybe he would wake up soon and the treatments and grafts would reveal that he looked, talked, and acted just like himself. He’d remember Sam and their life together and everything. Well, everything except the fire. He’d be Jack again. Sam sighed. Perhaps someday soon, he’d wake up and they could go back to living their fairytale. She leaned closer to Jack and brushed a piece of brittle black hair away from his face. If only.
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He had Sam. He knew that much. The only other thing he knew was pain. Sam and pain. He didn’t think that Sam caused the pain though. No, she couldn’t have, because she loved him. Or, that’s what she kept telling him, anyway. This place smelled odd and every time someone came to him, it was to cause him more pain—whether it was with a needle, medications, or big, official-sounding words like “severe retrograde amnesia” and “extreme skin grafting.” Occasionally, the sedatives would wear off and although the pain intensified, he was able to grasp his surroundings. The third time this had happened, Jack had woken up to the sound of conversing doctors. He realized he was in a hospital. But he didn’t know why. What had happened? Jack thought his head might explode due to the lack of information he had. He just wanted to get up and go home. The only thing that felt familiar was Sam. Sometimes she cried, her already tired eyes sinking even further with worry for him. Other times, she brought him flowers or read to him from a book. Even if he couldn't make sense of her words, he could still hear her and occasionally he was conscious enough to open his eyes and look at her, maybe even mumble a bit if he was feeling particularly energetic. Usually though, Jack was so drugged that he couldn’t even turn his head in the direction of Sam's soft voice. Jack looked forward to the times when his painkillers wore off. It was then that he had enough coherence to begin remembering things. So, Jack learned to love the pain. If he was hurting, he was able to think. Jack reasoned that if it were not for the body cast he was in, he could run away--escape. Then, he could find Sam and ask her the questions that gnawed at him. Jack felt like he was drowning in his ignorance. He had to know what had happened. The only thing Jack could remember was falling. The sensation of being pushed over a cliff was the strongest memory he had of the trauma he had experienced.
Jack was smart. When the doctors came into his room at night to talk about him, he’d pretend to be asleep. He stopped crying out because he knew the doctors gave him more pain medicine if he did, and he knew that the drugs kept him from thinking. Less medicine meant more answers. Soon, he had gathered enough information to learn that he was a burn victim. Evidently, he also had memory problems—some form of amnesia, which is something he could’ve guessed. Apparently, he could remember things in his life like his name and Sam and distant memories, but he had no recollection of the event that had put him in the hospital. Maybe someday the doctors would inadvertently remind him of that event, too. Until then, he would have to fight the pain and try to resist the effects the sedatives had on his mind to find the answers himself. He wanted to heal more for Sam than for himself. He lived for Sam. She was the only thing he looked forward to these days. Jack found that if he moved or made even the slightest sound, she smiled. Sam's smile, when he was awake enough to see it, was enough to make his pain go away temporarily. So, he tried. He tried so much that it was excruciating, even just to lift a finger. But, she smiled when he did, so he tried. He painfully willed himself to break the hold that the bed had on his muscles just to hear her excitement at his slightest movement. Sometimes though, the pain was too much, or the doctors medicated him to the point of oblivion. It was these times when all he could do was allow himself a few blissful hours of weightless dreaming. But, although the pain was obliterated in these hours, he still preferred being awake to being painless. Jack was determined to force himself to heal for Sam, no matter how long it took or how painful it was.
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