Invalid

Nine

I guess it's true what people say; your life can change in a instant. For me, that change came as a slap in the face, a gun in my hand, and another life I was forced to take...  

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I still remember the day I first used a gun, the feel of it jolting against my hand igniting an alarming sense of power through me, the force tingling even the smallest hairs along my arms and shaking my knees. My knuckles gripped the weapon tightly and I held it out in front of me, aiming at a long metal sheet off in the distance that echoed its noise through the room following the crack of the shot. 

With every snap I heard, i'd be afraid of even the slightest glance at my hands in fear that the noise came from my fingers and that a possible gory scene would lay before me. Kids all around me were crying, and so was I, the tears rolling down my face and causing my hair the stick to my cheeks as my ears rang and my muscles tensed with each bang.

One hole. Two holes. Ten holes. Over and over we all were shooting, desperately begging the Officials to let us stop, pleading with them to allow us to leave that awful room and escape to the quiet security of our quarters, hoping there was some humanity left in them that didn't feel the need to put helpless children through all of this.

We were all so naive back then, still missing the warmth of home and the comforting touch from a favorite teddy bear. We still wanted our moms to kiss the pain away from a simple scratch and our dads to scare off the monsters lurking under our beds. None of us had to experience the feel of that harmful object in our palms before then, and dealing it in our possession only made the fear of our new life grow.

All we wanted was to go home and back to our families, somewhere safe. Instead, we gained a never ending nightmare of how much more so our awful lives were going to be as an Official clicked a bullet into his gun and fired at a scrawny girl at the end of our line. It happened fast, so quick that the girl probably didn't even realize he'd raised his gun. She'd been the person to shoot less than anyone else in the room, whimpering over how she could barely hold up the gun due to its weight, a fact that was both true and resulted in her losing her life. And I couldn't stop staring at her, body slumped across the floor in jagged bends like a broken Barbie and a hole carved in her head.

But that's what we were to them; expendable. They could have killed all of us and not cared. That was the lesson they drove into our heads that day. 

We were unimportant. We were nothing. We were Invalid.

I hear the splash of water far over to my left, Michael near a muddy stream. He was persistent when it came to getting the blood off even though it was dark now and he wouldn't be able to see how well he did at it using the dim glow of the fire next to me when he walked back. But I understood the need to clean it off, always hoping the thoughts that accompany such a sight will wash away as well. 

Sitting down and constantly keeping both eyes on Jane, I couldn't leave her side to rinse the mixture of Michael's, hers, and the Official's scarlet horror off my hands. And trying to get it off Jane was impossible when she was spitting up her guts every few minutes and splatting it all over me each time. 

Whenever Jane would have an episode, she'd fall back, out cold and unaware for a few minutes. Then, she would come back, stress overtaking her again, Wade still nowhere to be seen and that look of anxiety marking the features of her face over and over. The realization struck her hard every time, her breath shallow when she'd continue to ask about him and making my insides twist from guilt.

"Jen, did someone take Wade?"

"Jen, what happened to Wade?"  

"Jen, i'm scared. Why won't you tell me what happened?"

Looking at her wasn't an option when those questions went flying, her lips pouting and voice low and full of ache. So, I left her unanswered, lifting her head up and making sure she didn't choke on her blood and avoided eye contact as much as possible. 

I didn't know how to ease her pain, an agony formed from both whatever was wrong with her and from losing the closest thing she had to family, and that brought a sense of helplessness my way along with it. 

This was all new to me; having to look after someone besides for myself, letting someone invade walls I put up years ago to prevent disastrous outcomes. Jane and Wade had torn them down over the course of the day i've known them, and look where that got me? Stuck with a stab wound, a taken kid, a contagious lost cause, and a traitor Invalid. And don't even get me started on how much trouble we'd be in once that Official -one I dragged over here to also try to keep an eye on- woke up. Loss of blood or not, Invalids and Officials don't mix.

"Jen, did an Official take Wade?" I was assuming that she asked because of the previously mentioned Official placed directly in her view. Her voice was strained and the tone she used was rough, a gurgling sound catching in her throat. That only made me more worried about her.

I brought a hand to her forehead, my thumb skimming over her skin and smoothing back her hair in an attempt to seem at least the slightest bit comforting. "We'll talk about it once you get some rest alright." Trying not to focus on how hot she felt or get angry when I heard Michael walking up, I forced a smile I hope she could see and lowered my head again.

"That's not...Jen...answer me...correctly." She coughed, sending me directly into helper mode, trying to lift up her head as i've done countless times in the past thirty minutes. Jane held up her hand though, urging me to leave her be despite my protests. Her breathing was shallow, her body anything but relaxed and heart beating at a pace of anything but calm. Despite it, she struggled to get her demand out, "Tell...where...me where...he...Wade is."

I planned to ignore her scrambled out plea. Michael had a different plan.

"He was taken, captured by an Official. Looked to be high up in the ranks, a knife able to penetrate flesh in one pocket and a gun in the other. Jen took out the first one, must have been a trainee, had no weapons on him, no gun or nothing. I already checked. There was nothing we could do. Jen could have gotten killed, especially with the gash already in her stomach." Jane's eyes landing on the spot he was referring to then, her mouth parted. 

There was a reason I hadn't told her about the cut, and it was partly the same reason I refused to tell her about Wade; it wasn't important for her to hear in her condition. As for what Michael said otherwise, I hadn't picked up on the things he was talking about on the one Official. My mind must have been elsewhere, and yes, that would have gotten me killed. Doesn't mean I forgive him for what he did though. After all, he could have rescued Wade. I didn't hear anything in his explanation that held him back from doing so. 

"Oh, and by the way," He grabbed her hand and lamely shoot it -more like flopped it around- in his. "I'm Michael. A, uh, friend of Jen's. I'm gonna do what I can to help you, Jane."

Jane half smiled and appeared to be biting back a sob, nodding her head and leaning her it back as Michael helped her.

All I did was sit there and stare at it happen, all while I realized something very off and wrong about Michael's explanation. And it was going to eat away at me for the remainder of time he'll be around us.

The first Official did have a gun.

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That's more like it, Wattpad! Good job! You didn't delete anything randomly today. Glad to see you're (somewhat) back to your normal self now... Anyway, here's that second (and hopefully better) chapter I promised in the last chapter guys. And just so you know, this story doesn't exactly have an updating schedule, but my goal is to try to update a few times a week or at the very least every Friday.

Dedicated to Disgustingly_Pretty because i've always loved dedicating chapters to my awesome readers. Thank you all and I hope you liked this update. If you did please vote and/or comment your thoughts. Or I guess you could go on being a silent reader if that's what you really want. I still love you even if you are... but I love the ones that vote and comment more. JUST KIDDING! All the love is evenly distributed but seriously, it would mean a lot to me if you vote and comment (because seriously, who doesn't like seeing those). And who knows, maybe there'll be a dedication in your future if you do so *hint hint* lol. Talk to ya'll later :)