Young Writers Society

***This chapter may contain any of the following: image based sexual abuse, violence, and/or self-harm at a 16+ level. Read at your risk. Chapters labeled with M are particularly intense.

Chapter 9 Don't Go

 A weak light greeted Jed’s eyes from the corner of the room. His eyes navigated along the hard floor to a wadded pile of patterned fabric lying below the bed. His gaze lifted from the fabric to the crash survivor. Thin sheets lay tightly twisted about his chest and legs, strongly outlining his attractive form. His glittery thumb ring caught the light and centered Jed’s attention on the seventeen-year-old’s forehead where his fingers rested.

     Zybryn. The name shot through Jed’s mind as his eyes traced the crash survivor. The bandage had been removed from the seventeen-year-old’s forehead, but his hand beneath the purple streak in his hair hid what lay beneath.

     Slowly, the model’s gaze lifted, and Jed stared into the pre-tty Asian eyes that still haunted his memory. The survivor’s dark eyes moved timidly over Jed’s face as he lifted his other hand to his forehead. He frowned and turned away, pressing his hands into his forehead again.

     Jed stopped beside the bed, carefully avoiding the pile of fabric on the floor. His eyes lifted to the seventeen-year-old’s unrealistically doll-perfect face lifted slightly toward the ceiling. “So, apparently, you have my number. Where’d you get it?” he asked slightly more sharply than he had intended.

     The crash survivor frowned and lowered his hand from his forehead. His gaze moved to Jed’s face, and he nervously clasped a hand over his shoulder, moving his eyes fearfully across Jed’s face.

     Jed bit his lip and turned away. His gaze moved to the table beside the hospital bed. A shiny silver chain rested on it between two simple silver earrings and a diamond stud.

     Jed frowned and returned his gaze to the crash survivor. “Look, I didn’t mean that to sound so accusatory, okay? I don’t know anything about you, so finding out that you know my number is a little disconcerting to me. Can you just tell me who told you?”

     The survivor exhaled uneasily and nervously tightened his grasp on his shoulder. His timid brown eyes moved slowly across Jed’s face, and he silently shifted closer to the other side of the hospital bed. Jed sighed and glanced back at the jewelry on the table beside the bed.

     The door suddenly opened without response from either Jed or the hospitalized survivor, and Lakisha stepped into the room carrying a full grocery bag. Jed glanced down at the floor, uncertain of what to say.

     Lakisha strode up to the bed, ignoring Jed as if he were a part of the wall behind her and placed herself in front of him. “Mom called me again today. Dad’s not doing well,” she began in a rushed tone as she set the grocery bag down on the edge of the bed and hastily untied it.

     The survivor frowned and pulled himself into a sitting po-sition against the wall behind him, keeping his arms crossed a little below his shoulders to prevent the blanket around him from sliding off his chest. His pretty Asian eyes watched as the woman untied the bag and left it open on the bed.

     She cast her brother a glance and leaned down to pick up his hospital clothes from the floor. “His fever went up again, and the doctor doesn’t know why,” she continued as she toss-ed the fabric on the table beside the survivor’s jewelry.

     The teenager’s frown deepened as he lowered a hand from his shoulder and reached out to the bag. His eyes lifted from the clothes within it to Jed’s face as he pulled out a shirt and laid it beside himself.

     Lakisha turned back to face her brother. “I called Mikel and asked him to take you home. He’s running a few errands in Iver, but he should be here in forty minutes to pick you up. Just send him a quick text to remind him, okay?”

     The survivor’s eyes shot up from the shirt to Lakisha’s face. “What…” His soft, lightly accented words trailed off as Lakisha glanced into the bag the survivor had been examining.

     Her sharp eyes lifted. “I can’t do it, Zy. I’ve got to get over to Pinesborgh as soon as possible and taking you home would add an extra hour to my commute.” Her gaze lowered to the bag the crash survivor had been going through. “These are the clothes you asked for. I should be back by tomorrow so if there’s anything you need at that point in time, I can get it for you, but I’ve got to go now.”

     The survivor’s panicked eyes lifted to Lakisha’s face. His hand shot up from his shoulder to her arm, letting the blanket fall freely from his otherwise bare chest.

     Lakisha frowned and turned hastily back to her brother. “Look, I know you’d rather have me take you home, but I’m running out of time. Dad is not doing well, and Mom needs me over there, okay? You need to understand and suck it up. You’ll be in the car with Mikel for only half an hour—twenty minutes the way he drives. You can survive it.”

     A tear ran down the side of the survivor’s face and dripped off his chin to his bare chest. He swallowed uneasily and star-ed up at his sister pleadingly.

     Lakisha sighed and placed a hand on her brother’s bare shoulder. “You can do this, okay? But I have to go, now.” She lifted her hand from the seventeen-year-old’s shoulder and pulled the survivor’s hand from her arm. “Tell him if he insists on payment that I’ll pay him when I next visit you, okay?”

     The seventeen-year-old’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he wiped the back of his hand over the side of his face. He nodded nearly imperceptibly and pulled the sheet back up to his shoulders.

      Lakisha turned, and her gaze met Jed’s. She flashed a quick smile and pulled open the door. It shut with a loud clang behind her.