K A D E N

In all the time that I'd been in town, I only came to the hospital on two occasions. Once when my cast was being taken off and the day that Sam's gran had passed away. In the hours that followed after the dance I found myself limping through the automatic doors, barely hanging onto Zach.

"You're stupid, you know that?" He muttered angrily after yelling at a nurse to help. "If you'd just stayed inside."

"A thank you would be appreciated." I said dryly before my legs buckled underneath me.

"Shit."

My white shirt had long stopped being white as did Zach's. His hands were covered in blood as were mine. Except I also had a bullet lodged inside of me.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"This isn't a stab wound." He clarified.

"You know they'll ask what happened."

"I know." He said quietly.

A few nurses did come by then with a stretcher. I was laid down so the fluorescent lights above burned my eyes. I turned to Zach one last time, grimacing from the sharp, unbearable pain, "I'd get out of here if I was you."

That was the last thing I said before, finally, I passed out.

-

It was almost a week until I was discharged. I was told that I was extremely lucky to have kept my arm with only a shattered humerus but the news of not losing a limb offered little ease. Of course, in the time I was in the hospital the detective came to pay me a visit. The first time was once I came out of surgery. But before he got within five feet of my hospital bed, my dad was there to bar his entry.

"Another time, Detective." I heard him say. My eyes were closed but I was fully awake.

They exchanged a few more words until I heard the door close and my dad take the seat beside the bed. The pain was almost unnoticeable now. It didn't hurt much if I didn't move.

"You can open your eyes now."

"Thanks." I said, turning my head to face him. His eyes were puffy from crying. He hadn't left the hospital from the moment he stepped in. My mom was the same. She went home today but it wouldn't be long before she was back.

"You're going to tell me what happened." He said firmly.

"Didn't the doctor give you the report?"

"Don't try and be smart now, Kaden. Who did this to you?" He didn't sound angry but I didn't know how long that would last.

I sighed, not knowing what to say.

"Was it that boy? Zach?"

"He wouldn't have called you if he'd been the one to shoot me."

"Kaden." He said warningly.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I don't know who did it. I came out of the house and. . . I didn't see who it was. I don't remember anything after. . ." I trailed off, hoping it would be enough.

I knew full well who had been outside my house that night. What their intentions might have been. I just wasn't ready to admit it. Saying it out loud would have made it real.

"Alright." My dad said, giving no sign that he was convinced or otherwise. And then, "Coming back was a mistake. My mistake."

"This isn't your fault, dad."

"We already lost Jane. To think, we could have lost you too." His voice cracked towards the end as well as a few loose tears. "I'm sorry."

I didn't know what to say so I stayed quiet. I focused on the rose that one of the nurses had brought in. She didn't mention the name of the giver of the flower.

"You're going to have to speak to the detective soon. He'll find the person who did this." My dad said after a while.

I gave a small nod.

"Good, now get some rest."

When the detective did come around to interrogating me, both my mom and dad were with me. My mom held my hand and squeezed it in comfort whilst my dad stood behind her, arms folded across his chest.

The detective was at the end of the bed, pen and clipboard in hand. Despite that, he had an assistant with him who jotted down all the notes. I told them the same story I'd told my dad.

The Detective was the one who asked the questions. "Did you see anything suspicious on the way home?"

"No."

"Zachary Weston was with you?"

"Yes. He drove."

"Did you know he had a weapon on him?"

I paused. "No."

"Detective, what are you trying to say here? Kaden already told you that it wasn't the other boy." My dad said firmly.

"Perhaps not. But your son may have gotten caught up in someone else's mess. This isn't the first time this has happened."

I saw what the detective was doing and it was working. My dad looked at me with a doubtful expression. "Is this true? Are you involved in anything?"

"No." I said, looking him square in the eye before turning to the detective. "I told you what happened."

"Is there anyone who might have reason to target you?"

The detective looked at me, knowing full well the answer to his question. I stared back before saying, "No."

"I think that's enough questions." My mom cut in, standing up. The detective mirrored her actions.

"We'll keep you updated on what happens." He turned to me. "Get well soon."

He left after that. My parents continued to fluster over me, taking turns to stay with me for the night so I wouldn't be alone right up until the day I was discharged. It was also later that day when I came to my parents' house that I heard about Zach's arrest.

"Are you sure you weren't involved with this boy?" My dad said once he'd read the title of the newspaper.

I shook my head. "We weren't friends."

Before he could say anything more, I went to my room. I spent a lot of time there in the days that followed. Since the hospital my parents were overly cautious, tiptoeing around me whenever I was around. On more than a few nights, I heard my mom crying in her room with dad offering comforting words. When that happened, I always went back to my room and locked it. I'd sit on my bed and stare at the floor, sometimes missing my mattress.

The walls of my room were bare but then I'd never had anything worthwhile to put up. Other than the bed, there was a chair that I'd flung my clothes over. It was a task to get dressed now because of the sling my arm was in. It would be like that for the next three months.

I was struggling to put a shirt on when the door flung open.

"Surprise! Oh--"

"Elsa?" I frowned, still struggling with the shirt.

"And Sam." Sam walked in with a basket, followed by Noah.

They all stopped short once they saw me. I gave up with the shirt and tossed it to the floor in frustration. "Thanks for knocking."

"Are you alright?" Elsa said, picking up the shirt. At my blank stare, she gave me a sheepish smile. "Right, sorry."

"You look like hell." Sam said, putting the basket on the bed and sitting down.

"Thanks." I said dryly.

"Here." Noah took the shirt from Elsa and began to ease my hand through the armhole. He moved the material rather my arm, stopping for a moment at the plaster that covered the entry of the bullet.

I was also conscious of the fact that the stab wound was fully on show. Even though Chloe's work had paid off and all that remained was an ugly looking scar, it still made me uneasy. Noah frowned at it but didn't say anything. It had been a task hiding it from my mom, hence why I insisted that I could dress myself.

Elsa clipped the sling into place and brushed my shoulder. "We would have come sooner but--"

"She couldn't choose what to put in the basket." Sam rolled his eyes.

"What's in the basket?" I asked.

"Apples." Sam made a disgusted face.

"To keep the doctor away." Elsa scowled. "Fruit is important to a healthy recovery."

"Whatever, she put in all the boring stuff. I picked out the chocolate."

"Thanks." I managed a small smile.

Sam and Elsa continued to make conversation as I listened. Noah was quietly sitting by the window.

"So, this happened on the night of the dance?"

I turned back to Sam and nodded. He was touching some of the pill bottles the doctor had prescribed. Other than painkillers, there were some sleeping pills. It was in the same plastic orange that I'd thrown in the corner of my bathroom not that long ago.

"That's crazy. Do you know who it was?" Elsa asked.

"I didn't see much."

"Are you safe? I mean, with whoever it was still on the loose?"

"I'll be fine." I said though I didn't know who I was trying to convince.

There was a moment of silence before Sam broke it. "Don't worry, Callum's on the case. He'll find who did it."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure what the detective was planning now. It seemed as though he had his own agenda now. My company stayed a while longer, filling me in on the things I'd missed whilst I was at the hospital, before getting up to leave. Noah lingered after Sam and Elsa were out of hearing distance.

"Tell me he didn't do this to you." He hadn't said a single word up until now.

"What?"

"Zach. Did he do this to you?"

I looked up at him in surprise. Noah had always been one to give people the benefit of the doubt. Especially when it came to Zach. But he was right to do so on this occasion.

"No, he didn't." I replied. "He saved my life. Took me to the hospital on time."

He nodded to himself. "Why'd you leave so early that night anyway?"

"I was tired. And drunk." I sighed, not wanting to think too much of what had happened.

"Why was Zach with you?"

"Why all the questions?"

"If it wasn't Zach then I think we both know who was behind all this." He jabbed a finger toward my sling. "Does the detective know? Did you tell him?"

"No--I don't know." I said in exasperation.

"He was trying to kill you. Or Zach. Both of you even. Isn't it about time you did something about it?"

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" He challenged.

For the longest time, I just stared at him. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't so easy. How it was so much complicated than what he made it out to be. I wanted to scream at him to just, for once, see things from where I was standing. But I didn't say anything of those things.

"I don't have the energy to fight with you. Just go."

Noah didn't try to argue, he merely sighed and quietly left. I listened to click of the front door shutting before sitting heavily on my bed. I picked up my cheap throwaway phone, my finger hovered over Phoenix's name before dropping it onto the comforter.

Instead, I went downstairs and switched on the tv. It was one of the rare times both my parents weren't home. I mindlessly watched the screen, nothing really going into my head. I lay down on my back and stared at the ceiling as the glow from the screen illuminated the side of my face. It was uncomfortable sleeping now. I could never find the right position to fall asleep, not that I got very much in the first place. With my limited movements, I found myself staying up most nights, the dark circles indented under my eyes.

More than a few times, I found myself staring at my phone screen, at Phoenix's name. Every time, I stopped myself just in time. She didn't need this in her life right now. She was better off without me. But that didn't stop me thinking about her every chance I got.

The tv was still switched on and when I did move my gaze from the ceiling, I saw Dante's image flash across the screen. The more I stared at it, the more my blood boiled. The news anchors voice blurred through my head. I heard the words arrested and awaiting trial but by then all the blood had rushed to my head. All I heard after that was static.

It could've been hours or maybe minutes that I just sat there. Long after the news was finished. There was a programme about people trying to save a store that was about to go out of business but I stayed where I was.

When I did come back to reality, I saw that the dark marks on my palms were reopened, leaving a trail of red all the way down to the tip of my index finger. I rubbed my hands on my jeans before going up to my room.

The orange bottle was on top of a chest of draws. Even in the dim light, it was as bright as a tangerine. I took it down and tipped out one pill onto my palm, then another and another.

And for the first time in a long time, I slept. There were no dreams. No nightmares. There was nothing.