Writing, pathetic part 3

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So, here’s the latest. Any feedbacks welcome

The ambulance blurs in and out of focus, my mind swimming.
What did I do?
I made the wrong choice.
What will happen.
I’m to blame.
I can’t take it back.
“You ok, son?” A voice cuts in, “you’re mumbling there, you with me?”
“Hm…?”
“If you can focus, I need to more information on you injuries.”
“I… I don’t know much….” I stammer back, trying to think back.
“Ok, well just take it easy, try and stay awake and when you’re ready…”
“He… He said if I walked away he wouldn’t kill me, he’d stop what he was doing, he was going to unleash…”
“Ok, calm down, you’re getting worked up, just breath.”
I do, a long one in, held, released.
I need to get out of here, need to find a way to stop this.
“Hold on there Jack, stay down”
“I need to get out, I have to stop him.”
“Stop him? Who is he? Who did this?”
“You wouldn’t believe me….”
“Look lad, I found you in a pile of rubble smashed inches short of being dead, I wouldn’t have thought you to be alive, let alone capable of talking, why don’t you try me.”
“It was…”
An explosive tearing of metal filled the ambulance as the world flipped and all my pain returned all over again, I struggled to remain conscious, the world was darkening, my last sight a hand tearing open the doors, which had just become the ceiling.

My headache was back.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
CRASH!!!
I snap awake, to see the splinters of the door raining down on me.
Blinding light shines past a dark silhouette.
My eyes slam shut, this isn’t a headache.
A rough hand drags me to my feet.
“You’re getting easier to find, Jack.” A gravelly voice burns through the fog.
“Iv not been hiding,” I spit back, knowing the headaches coming.
“You’re losing it, son.” He drops me to the ground, and tears open a pouch on his belt as my eyes open and slowly adjust to the glare.
“Losing it? I lost it a long time ago, you know that.”
A jolt of pain as a syringe is slammed into my neck, working quickly to lessen the thump of my headache.
“When are you going to let me have them?”
“If I gave them to you you’d be out in a week, it’s not a fix to cure your lack of control. And anyway, the supplies running out.”
I painfully sit up, “what happens then?”
A dry chuckle, “the way you’re getting through the doses? I wouldn’t make long term plans.”
I don’t bother to reply, Iv had this conversation with him too many times to give a shit. I shakily stand with the intention of getting away before it starts.
“Look, Jack….” He starts, “I don’t want this conversation again…”
“Good, shut up then.”
“Jack, are you done?”
“Done?” I turn, unable to ignore the bait, “I was done a long time ago.”
“That’s not what I mean,” a touch of sorrow enters his voice, “sooner or later I know I’m going to find you in a doorway like this bleeding out, or already dead.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Why? What’s it going to achieve?”
“It doesn’t have to achieve anything, I’ll just be gone.”
“Then what’s it all been for? All these years of pain and suffering? Living with this guilt you refuse to let go?” He pauses, he knows he has me now, “I was there, Jack, I was the one that pulled you from the rubble…”
“You should have left me” I spit back, “I deserved to die.”
“Except you didn’t, did you? You lived, because we went through hell with you, we kept you alive despite everything, your injuries should have killed you. Christ, just a handful would have killed anyone else. I know you don’t see it, but you lived for a reason that day, you can still fix things… Fix yourself.”
“I can’t fix anything, I don’t have anything. I can’t save anyone…”
“You saved me, you saved my partner that day, you’ve saved a lot of people since then.”
“I haven’t saved anyone.”
He steps forward, looking me in the eye, “has it really gone that far?”
“What?”
“You don’t remember do you, you remember nothing.”
“Remember what? I remember waking, the rubble, pain…”
“Ah shit, you’re in worse than I realised, you need to stop.”
“Iv already stopped,” I reply, turning and walking away, “I stopped a long time ago.”
“That’s not what I mean, Jack.”
I don’t respond as I start my long descent down the stairs that hurt so much yesterday.
That pain was nothing compared to the pain I know is coming.
He’s right.
I can’t let it in anymore.

“Get out of my way doctor, you don’t have to get hurt.”
“You don’t have to hurt me”
“I’m here for him.”
“He’s under my protection, if you move him, he’ll die.”
“If he was going to die, he’d be dead already.”

Words.
I hear words.
My head.
Memories.
Pain.
Ambulance.
Crash.

My eyes spring open to see the paramedic stood over me, looking pathetically small against another man.
Man.
He was hardly a standard ‘man,’ he was huge.
He was the one that did this to me.

“Get out of my way doctor, you don’t have to get hurt.”
“You don’t have to hurt me.”

I can feel it seeping into me, knitting bones and tightening wounds. My skins itching as it always does when I let this happen.

“I’m here for him.”
“He’s under my protection, if you move him, he’ll die.”

Pressures building, i haven’t got the strength to heal, but I have enough in me now.

“If he was going to die, he’d be dead already.”
“He’s right,” I cut in, lifting my arm towards the couple.
With a gesture the paramedic is pushed aside and I’m face to face with him.
Him.
He’s put me in this position.
“Hello, Mr Superhero, how’s your head?”
“You here to kill me now?”
A chuckle, “now, now, what would be the point of trying,” he reaches down and wipes blood from a recently healed cut, “I can see now that that’s not so easy. No, I came to apologise. And to offer you a deal.”
“A deal?” I can feel pressure building, more healing, I just need time, “I couldn’t trust a deal from you.”
“No, maybe not, but I don’t intend on giving you much choice…”
He reaches down to lift the paramedic from the ground,
“Come with me, join me, or I’ll kill him.”

I’m roughly shaken awake, my arm feels broken.
“You can’t even manage a flight of stairs can you?”
“I, I didn’t fall…” I say, the haze slightly lifted, “something’s happening.”
“Come with me, we’ll get you fixed up.”
“Come..? Come with you?”
“Yes come on up you get”
“Memories.. Memories.. I remember, that day.”
“What day?
“The day we met.’

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