He goes into another coughing fit, and I watch as his body shakes. Bruises cover the length of his torso and his rib cage, and I know that the coughing brings him pain. I wonder for a moment if he's sick. So far, I've been too scared to talk to him even though he was kind to me. Ignoring him and his pain, I left us both feeling alone, but I was just too scared to know what had happened to him. It was going to happen to me too.
He coughs a few more times, violently, and groans in pain. This jolts up my courage, and I open my mouth to speak. "Are you going to die?" I ask, timidly. My voice comes out broken and scared, probably from all the screaming.
Despite his state, he grins at me and laughs before he realizes how painful it is. "We all die eventually, but not tonight; don't worry," he tells me, and his answer brings me comfort. "Are you hurt?"
Hesitantly, I nod. "Yes, but not as bad you." I don't want to complain, not when he's in so much more pain.
"Pain is pain," he says, and leans his head back on the wall, closing his eyes. "You feel pain whether or not you compare it to somebody else's, and it doesn't make it any more or less painful. Do you need help? You're bleeding pretty badly."
I feel tears welling up, and I do my best to keep from crying. "There's nothing I can do about it."
"If you let me," he says carefully, "I can stop the bleeding."
He's looking at me now, and I can see that he's serious. I'm scared; of him and what may happen to me if I don't let him help me. I don't want him anywhere near me, but what other choice do I have? Slowly, I nod, agreeing, and he scoots over to me.
On his way over to me, he grabs his shirt off the ground, and I feel a pang of jealously. It was unfair that he got clothes when I couldn't. No… that was stupid. He was helping me, why am thinking this? The tears are getting harder to hold back, and I wonder if he's noticed. If he does, he doesn't show it, and I watch as he rips up his shirt, and carefully presses the cloth to my wound.
I cry out in pain as he does, and the tears fall instantly. The physical and mental pain is over-whelming, and I find myself sobbing. "I just want to go home," I cry. "I just want to see my mommy again… I think she might hate me, I was so mean to her…"
"Shh," he coos, and wraps his arms around me. I don't reject them, but instead cling to him. He's my only comfort. "You'll get out of here soon, alright? It's going to be okay."
I startle awake as the cloth presses into my side more, and the pain sends me screaming. There's the sound of running footsteps as my mother charges into my room, busting through the door. "Kace?? Are you okay??"
I pant from screaming and stare at her. Her expression is full of pain and fear, and I want nothing more than to hug her, and for her to hug me. She needs me to do this so that she can feel that everything is alright, but I can't. I can't be near her, and she can't touch me. It's not going to be okay.