Unedited. Enjoy reading my terrible grammar ;)

~*~*~*~*~

Mrs Martinez - I mean Stella, led me through the winding corridors and hallways of the hospital. I was glad to have her with me otherwise I was certain I would've found myself in a completely different place than I was aiming for.

We stopped outside a door. It was identical to the others that lined both sides of the hallway, except for the room number and the patient name written in black marker. I knew it was Caleb's room, firstly because his name was on the door. Like duh. Secondly, because I could hear him before I could see him.

"What are they doing to him in there?" I asked Stella, slightly alarmed at the voices floating through the crack under the door.

She grinned. "Oh, it's not what they're doing to him, it's what he's doing to them."

"That doesn't sound good," I commented.

"See it for yourself," she shrugged, pushing open the door so it was ajar. I smiled, thanking her and apologising profusely for almost knocking her out earlier. She waved her hand dismissively, telling me that it was nonsense, then going to tend to a patient in the room next to Caleb's.

I cautiously entered the room, only to be greeted people. People of the medically trained tribe. Aka doctors and nurses. They were scattered around the bed in the middle of the room which is where Caleb sat with a disgusted look on his face. The two doctors who stood near the door with amused looks on their faces let me through without hesitation.

Caleb held a tray with what looked to be some kind of meat, and vegetables cut into small cubes. He beckoned one of the two nurses closer, still not having seen me, as I watched on curiously.

He pointed to the tray. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?" He asked her.

"That's your dinner," she said slowly, as if his brain function was damaged by his injury.

"That's not what I asked," he said blankly. "I asked if you're seeing what I'm seeing. Are you seeing this shit storm on my plate?"

The nurse blanched, clearly not expecting that kind if reaction from a patient who she thought was mentally incapable.

"It's good for you," the nurse protested.

"Me? What about you nurse, would you eat this?" He asked, scooping a chunk of meat onto a spoon and shoving it towards her.

She made a face, stepping away to avoid the spoon Caleb was so politely threatening her with.

He smirked triumphantly at her actions, answering for her. "No, of course you wouldn't eat this," by now he was waving the jello like meat around like a mad man. "You wouldn't eat this because its spam."

"You know what you do with spam?"

The nurse, finally catching on that he wasn't going to let her speak anyway, waited patiently for an answer.

"Because spam is the shit you wanna get rid of, the stuff you wanna banish to hell so it stays there forever."

"Your point is?" The nurse asked.

"My point is that this," he gestured to the plate, "has to go."

He looked up, his eye catching mine, causing him to grin.

"H, you're just in time for the finale. Ladies and gents, please start mentally preparing yourselves for the awesomeness that is about to unfold before your very eyes. Now you probably don't know this, but I am a totally qualified magician, who is not completely bullshitting you right now. This is one of the many magic tricks I have perfected over the years."

He started moving his fingers over the plate like he was playing the air piano. "Now watch the plate very carefully."

He quickly picked it up and tossed it out the window.

I rolled my eyes. Bravo, great magic trick.

"Annnd, that concludes my magic show. That was free, but next time it'll be ten bucks a piece."

The doctors and nurses filed out of the room, some laughing quietly, and others muttering under their breath, leaving me alone with Caleb in the room.

"Why were there so many people in here?" I asked curiously.

He grinned sheepishly. "I yelled abuse at the food when they brought it in, and loads of people came running. I think they thought I was murdering the nurse or something."

"You yelled abuse at the food?" I asked, realising how ridiculous that sounded.

"Did you see the food?" He asked in disgust. "That meat could've been cat for all I know, and that would be promoting animal abuse."

"If eating cat meat is promoting animal abuse, then eating beef is also promoting animal abuse."

He paused for a second, pondering my statement. "Stop being so smart."

I grinned, flopping into the chair which was conveniently placed beside his bed.

"So how does this hospital compare to the last one?" I questioned.

He licked his lips thoughtfully. "Well this one has more qualified staff, so that's always a bonus. The food's still shit, obviously, but look what I can do."

He grabbed a white plastic control with several buttons on it, from down the side of the bed. He forcefully stabbed a button with his thumb, grinning as if he was waiting for something magical to happen.

The very top of the bed started to move in an upward motion, moving so the bed practically turned into a seat, propping up the patients upper half.

He grinned gleefully. "And this."

His thumb switched to a different button, which started lifting the foot of the bed, making the whole thing look kinda hammock like.

"Well isn't that just incredible?" I said in mock amazement.

"Incredible would be an understatement," he said, disregarding my sarcasm. "This thing is fucking awesome. Now all I need is my own burger chef." He paused for a second, before adding, "And a girlfriend."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"Haha, you just responded by saying you weren't going to respond."

I gave him a blank look, flicking his forehead.

He scowled, rubbing the small red mark that had formed just below his hairline.

"You're evil."

"What can I say, it's hereditary."

He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Caleb yelled. Probably louder than necessary.

I heard the door click open, then click shut again as the person entered the room.

Caleb grinned as the identity of the person was revealed.

"Stella," he cheered, "Meet my sister."

I swivelled my head to see 'Stella', otherwise known as Mrs Martinez, standing in all her five foot glory.

She smiled at me, turning to Caleb. "I already know Hazel, she's going to prom with my son."

Caleb's mouth formed an 'O' shape. "Baby giraffe is your son?"

She frowned. "He usually goes by Ryan."

"Wait, wait, wait, so this is probably too personal for me to ask, and probably slightly stretches the nurse - patient relationship, but I'm going to ask anyway."

"I figured you would," she chuckled.

"How does someone of your stature," he gestured to her small frame, "produce a walking beanpole?"

I rolled my eyes. "You wouldn't happen to think that two people are involved in making a baby, would you?"

"Woah, hold it right there! I refuse to be given the sex talk from my little sister."

I whacked his arm. "You know, maybe since there were two sets of DNA, he got his dads height."

"Oh, I see what you're getting at. I think the smart gene in our family skipped me out."

"I think it did too."

"How dare you?!" He feigned hurt, smacking my arm.

I held my hands up in surrender. "You said it."

"I'm the only one that's allowed to insult my intelligence."

"Intelligence? I thought you said you didn't have any."

"Damn...that was cold," he said shivering for effect.

"Don't worry, I still love you," I said, nudging his side.

"What if I didn't love you?"

"I'd kick your ass."

"Good thing I still love you then right?"

Someone clearing their throat caught our attention as we both looked in the general direction of the window, next to the bed.

"Sorry to break up the love fest, but I did actually come here to deliver some news," Stella said.

I quirked an eyebrow curiously, and she took that as a sign to carry on.

"The therapists are wanting to start your physical therapy as soon as possible to start getting some of your movement back in your shoulder and knee."

Caleb thanked her and she retreated to the door, leaving us alone again.

""What's wrong with your knee?" I asked, confused as to why his knee would need physical therapy.

"The bullet went clean through my calf muscle right?" I nodded. "But it was quite close to my kneecap and ripped a few tendons away from the cartilage and all the gross bits in your knee. It's no big deal, it just means I have to stay here longer and eat shitty food for longer."

"Well if you keep throwing it out the window, I doubt they'll keep giving you shitty food."

"Yeah, or if they start giving me real plates instead of plastic ones. That would probably hurt if you got hit on the head with one of those. But hey, at least if they get a brain bleed and die they're already at the hospital and they can be taken straight to the freezer."

"It's a morgue."

"Same thing."

Ah yes, Caleb, always the optimist.

~*~*~*~

"Sit still," Tara scolded, as I jiggled in attempt to resupply blood to my butt.

"My butt's numb," I whined, continuing to wriggle in the seat.

"And my fingers have been burned so many times that they no longer have fingerprints, but you don't hear me complaining do you?"

I didn't think it was safe to reply to that, partly because I didn't particularly know what was going to come out of my mouth, but mostly because Tara was in a snappy mood. She was doing me a favour after all, if you call burning my hair and painting my face a favour.

"How much longer is this going to take?" I wondered aloud.

She groaned, unplugging the hair burning tool and swiftly grabbing a section of my hair. She yanked it and twisted it as she pinned it around the other side if my head. I had no clue what she was doing because I couldn't see. She had refused to let me have a mirror which horrified me a little- well a lot actually- I was still recovering from the time she straightened my hair in seventh grade. As I looked into the mirror that day, singed hair and all, I promised myself that I would never again let Tara touch my hair. And yet here I was five years later, getting my hair blackened again. My twelve year old self would've been so disappointed.

"Okay I'm done," Tara said, surveying her work.

"Thank god," I muttered, starting to stand up, only to be forcefully pushed back down onto the seat again.

"We haven't done makeup yet," Tara grinned.

I groaned aloud. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"I'm trying not to, but honestly it's hard."

"Yeah, do yourself a favour and never become an actress, you're bad at it."

"Oh come on," she said, rummaging around in a large pink bag. "Just think, in two hours you'll look like you've just been at the oscars and Ryan will practically be drooling when he sees you."

Not a bad visual. Then I realised what she said. "Two hours?! Why are we getting ready so early?"

She brought her face up close to mine, pointing to a minuscule red spot on her forehead. "Do you see this?"

I squinted. "Just."

She huffed. "The first zit I get since I was fifteen and it's on the same day of prom. Freaking typical. Do you know how long this is going to take to cover up. And I mean its not even just a spot either, it's raised like Mount Everest and it'll probably be snow covered be the time in finished this." She waved a brush around as she babbled on. "It looks like I have a fucking nipple on my forehead." She self consciously ran her fingers over the basically nonexistent bump.

Running footsteps approached Tara's closed bedroom door. The handle turned, and a pair of eyes stared through the crack between the doorframe and the now open door.

"What do you want?" Tara spat, her face visibly twisting into a scowl.

"Nothing...I just came to say... PIZZA FACE!" The face at the door disappeared and Tara calmly placed the brush that she was using on her dresser.

"Excuse me for a moment whole I go KILL MY BROTHER," she said, shouting the last bit to be sure that her brother heard it. Her plan proved successful as we both heard feet shuffling away from the door.

She bolted out the door yelling, "YOU'RE DEAD YOU LITTLE SHIT!

I took this opportunity to stand up and stretch out my legs. It was also a good feeling to get the blood flowing to all areas of my body.

Eventually Tara returned, red in the face but smug. "He ran into a wall," she said happily, patting the dreaded seat.

I begrudgingly obeyed, flopping into the seat. "How did he crash into a wall?" I asked as she brushed something around my face. It tickled.

"He tripped over the dog," she snorted. "I knew there was a reason that I liked that slobbering mutt."

~*~*~*~

Yo.

Would you look at that, I updated.

Are you proud of me?

By the way I totally aced a math test today and I hate math with a passion so it was fun to feel smart in my worst subject today.

Oh, and I almost forgot. 66.17k reads say what?! I never ever thought anybody would even read this. I also had like one follower when I started writing this. Shout out to xoGazelle for being there when all this started.

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Until next time.