Chapter Sixty-Three.

(Zack)

"-stable," a voice says as I drift back into consciousness.

I'm on some sort of rolling bed? A gurney? Is that what they're called? My body hurts all over. What happened? It's moving fast. There's a mask on my face. My mouth and nose. Breathing. Ow, that hurts.

"All of his injuries look to be skin-deep," another voice says. This one's a man, the first was a woman. "He's a lucky kid."

"We'll need to do some x-rays to make sure," the woman says. "He was thrown twenty yards by the truck."

"How did he even survive?" Another woman asks. "That impact should have killed him."

"He's a hell of a tough kid," the man says, and I groan as I try to take in another deep breath, my chest hurting like fuck. "I think he's waking up."

You think? You're a fucking moron.

The bed suddenly slows down, and they turn me into a room. I think it's a room. My eyes aren't opening yet. It's really bright and smells of disinfectant. A hospital? Right, they mentioned getting hit by a truck.

Everything comes back to me. Getting suspended from school, leaving before Mom arrived, throwing my backpack over the wall at the house and continuing on my way.

Pushing Noah out of the way of a speeding truck. That thing had to have been going at least eighty an hour. How am I still alive? I know I'm tough, but that… that's just inhuman!

Then again, so am I. I mean, how else can I read the minds of those around me? I can already sense the minds of these doctors, or whoever they are. One of them's probably a doctor.

Despite my not wanting it to, my entire body goes slack as I try to fight against the incoming blackness.

"Let's move him onto this bed," the first woman to speak responds. "I think he went out again."

The next thing I know, I'm lying on a bed, no mask hooked up to me, though there's something pricked in my arm. This time, I'm able to open my eyes. There's a white tile ceiling above me, a window with the curtains pulled closed to my left, a bathroom with the door open to my right, and a gap between the bathroom and the wall, where there's probably an indent in the room before reaching the door.

There's a curtain there, pulled partially closed. I can hear voices, but my head's pounding too hard to really focus on eavesdropping.

There's no one in the room – at least, not on this side of the curtain. There's a chair on the opposite wall, and a shelf in the corner. The thing pricking my arm's an I.V. The wall opposite me has a chart. My nurse's name is Elise.

It takes me a full minute, but I manage to sit up without too much pain. Good, I'm already recovered for the most part. I've always healed pretty fast.

Someone changed me out of my school uniform and into a set of hospital scrubs.

"-a miracle he's even alive," a voice says, and I realize that they've moved a little bit closer. "By all rights, he should be dead. You have one lucky son, Mr. Noruva."

Ugh. My father.

"I don't understand," my father responds. "From what I've heard, his body should be in a bad state, yet you said he didn't have a single break or fracture?"

"Just bruising and scrapes," the other man says. "Your son recovers pretty well. A few of the more minors bruises had already healed most of the way by the time I finished checked him over, and some of the smaller scrapes were even, well, smaller."

"Zack's always healed fast," my father says. "He's a resilient brat."

Yeah, and you wonder why I don't love you, asshole. Go fuck off and die.

Did Noah make it? Is he okay?

"So he's going to be okay?" A third voice asks. This one's younger, closer to my age, and familiar. I let out a sigh of relief. No one's allowed to hurt him but me. "I-why did he do it?"

"You'll have to ask him that yourself," Father tells Noah. "I've never once thought Zack would protect anyone, much less put his life at risk for someone."

Yeah, well, I don't care about people. But I can't stand anyone but me hurting my victims. Plus, I wasn't thinking when I ran, I just did. I saw the truck speeding down towards Noah, who didn't seem to notice it, and the next thing I knew, I was here and in a lot of pain.

"Do you know how long before he'll wake?" Father asks.

"So he's going to be okay?" Noah asks again.

"Yes," the doctor says. "Zack's going to be okay. He's a very tough kid. I take it you're the young man he pushed out of the way?"

Did you get that from the previous conversation? How fucking dense do you need to be?

"Yeah," Noah responds. "He… yeah."

"Did you get that when he pushed you?" The doctor asks.

"What?" Noah asks. "The scrapes, yeah."

"No, that," the doctor gestures.

"No, I got that when he punched me at school."

I might punch you again just because. Why the fuck are you visiting me in the hospital?

"So are you three going to stand out there talking?" I raise my voice in irritation. "Or can I get something to eat, please? I'm fucking starved!"

"Zack!" Father snaps, stepping into the room. "Watch your language!"

"Maybe you should've been watching to see if I'd woken up, asshole," I say. "I'm fucking hungry. How long was I out? You know I need to eat. Get me some fucking food."

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"Watch your language, Zack," he says in a warning tone. "This self-sacrifice doesn't lighten what you did before."

"Oh, please," I roll my eyes, gesturing to Noah. "He's perfectly fine! Other than the black eye, but that'll heal."

Noah glares at me. He's standing between my father and the doctor. Black hair, dark brown eyes, and skin that was tanned by the sun throughout this past summer. He's dressed in the same designer clothes he was in when I shoved him, though I can see a few scrapes on his hands and cheek.

"You're on thin ice as it is," he says. "You nearly got yourself expelled from school, Zack! We told you to stop these fights!"

"It wasn't really a fight," I say. "He went down as soon as I punched him, and he never threw a punch. Get some tougher guys, and maybe there'd be a fight. Now get me some fucking food, and I want to go home and play with Max."

"No," Father says. "You're not playing with Max, you're going straight to your room as soon as you get home. You're grounded."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious," he says. "I'm done dealing with this, Zack. You're grounded until your suspension is up, and then we'll consider lifting it. Based on how you act, we might extend it."

"As if this'll hold," I snort. "You fucking coward. You're not even my real father. Is that why you hate me so much, you asswad?"

I bite my tongue as soon as I say that. I don't know where that came from. I mean, I always had a suspicion, but never evidence. The way he reacts tells me I hit the nail on the head, though. He tensed up, and his mind went into a panic.

A panic completely without fury.

"Before you two go back to your fighting," the doctor says. "I'd like to say two things. One, it's able to be heard outside, so I'd like you to tone it down a bit, especially with the swearing. Two, I need to run some checks now that Zack's awake."

"No checks until I get a fucking meal."

"He's not going to cooperate until he gets food," Father says with tightness in his voice.

"And can we please get this I.V. out of me?" I gesture to it. "It's pointless right now."

The doctor agrees to get me some food, placing the order and then asking if he can start the checks while we're waiting for it to arrive. It's a fucking sandwich and some apple juice. What do I look like, a fucking kid?

I mean, I am twelve, but I'm nearly thirteen! My birthday's in a few weeks! I'm not a little kid!

Okay, maybe I am short, but that's not the point, asshole!

"Zack," Noah pulls me out of my irritated thoughts, and I glare at him. "Wh-why did you shove me out of the way? You hate me."

"I hate everyone," I state. "But I'm the only person allowed to hurt you."

"You could have died!"

"No," I say. "You could have died. Clearly, I'm above such things. I don't even have a broken bone. Not even a fucking fracture. What are you even doing here? Did you want me to make your left eye match your right?"

"Zack!" Father snaps.

"Oh, please," I roll my eyes. "I'm betting that's really why he came here. Or were you hoping to see me all weak and frail? Tough luck, Noah. Ain't happening."

The doctor interrupts this with his checks, and the sandwich arrives halfway through. I start eating it, stopping only when he removes the I.V. When I finish devouring my meal, the doctor leaves and my father glares down at me.

"How did you know?" He asks.

"Mom got pregnant while you were in high school," I say. "And you're huge on the whole 'abstinence until marriage' thing. While you're a hypocrite, I'm pretty sure you followed that, especially since I know you'd have lost your inheritance if you had any children before you were seventeen, the age of consent for our state."

He stares at me in shock.

"You really think I didn't know how to pick the lock on your safe?" I roll my eyes. "The only sequence of numbers that stumped me was the first set. I never did figure out what they meant."

"It was the date your mother and I met first," he states. "I need to change that."

"You can't change the past, moron."

"Zack," he says. "You are grounded when you get home. Don't push your luck. And I know you, Zack. You'd never sacrifice your own health to save someone else. Is there something I need to know?"

Is he-oh, jeez, he is.

"You think I like Noah?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "As I said, I don't like people hurting my victims. I would've done it if he were Jess, too."

That came out without me meaning to say it. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought?

"Who?" Father asks.

"Jessica Turner," Noah explains. "She's the cutest girl in our class. Can I-can I talk to Zack? Alone?"

Father gives me a warning glare, then leaves, and I glare at Noah.

"Thanks," he says. "Is that really why you pushed me?"

"Yes," I state. "The only person allowed to hurt you is me, because you're my victim. Call it being possessive."

"You bully everyone," he says. "Are you telling me you'd have done the same thing if it was James?"

"I'd have watched him die."

"You really are an ass."

"This ass saved yours."

He opens his mouth to respond, then sighs.

"I still can't get my head around that," he says. "Why did you save me, Zack? You'd never put yourself in danger."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought?" I offer. "Now leave me the fuck alone, before I do make your left eye match your right."

He starts to say something, then turns and leaves. A minute later, my father enters the room. I've been cleared to go home, the doctor saying to take it easy. Once that's said, I'm given a change of clothes from home to pull on, then Father and I leave.

It's nearly midnight and the roads are quiet, as is the ride home. We reach the mansion we live in and pull past the gate that opens as we approach. Father parks in the garage, then follows me to my room to make sure I actually enter it.

My stuff is gone. My laptop, my T.V., my gaming systems, all of it.

"You're a fucking asshole," I say.

"You're grounded," he says. "Other than when we let you, you are not to leave this room. And you aren't taking your martial arts classes again until the grounding is over."

"But-"

"No," he says.

"Martial arts?" I whine? "Seriously? You're a big, fat, stupid, fucking asshole!"

"Enough!" He says. "Now go to bed!"

"I want Max and Gold."

"No," he says. "You're grounded, you're not getting them."

"Yes, I am," I say. "They're my dogs. You said that I'm responsible for them when we got them, remember? And that if I don't take care of them, then we're getting rid of them. If I'm grounded, I can't do that, which means that you're sabotaging me."

"I'll handle them while you're grounded," he says. "Now go to bed."

"I'm taking a shower first," I walk into my bathroom and slam my door closed.

I hear my bedroom door close a minute later, then I take a deep breath and let it out. Father's an asshole. I wish I had died when that truck hit me. Maybe then I wouldn't have to deal with all of this shit.

My head throbs and I rub it, then strip off my clothes and turn on the shower, stepping under the spray as I adjust the temperature. I have an on-use water heater for my bathroom, which means I don't have to wait.

After my shower, I pull the towel off the rack and dry off, then wipe off my mirror. My brown hair's still streaked with gold from summer, and I still have a light tan from it, too. Summer's the best time of year for me, because I can get away from people. Just me and the dogs in the woods my father owns.

But school's been back for more than a month, now. I hate this. It's too stressful. Not all twelve-year-olds are meant for school, and I'm not meant for interaction with people. I can't stand most people.

Why couldn't that truck have killed me?

It would get me away from all these people. I'd never have to worry about pushing people away so that I don't constantly hear their thoughts again. I'd never have to worry again about letting people be too close to my physically so I don't hear their thoughts and sense their minds again.

Why did I have to be born this way? Why couldn't I have been born normal? I'm prone to everyone's secrets, especially if they get close to me. Their thoughts, their feelings, what they really think of me.

Why am I cursed?

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I enter my room, finding two familiar faces sitting on my bed. Gold, my golden retriever, and Max, my black lab. Father must have changed his mind about not letting me have them during the grounding.

"Hey, boys," I smile at them, walking over and climbing onto my bed, pulling them against me. "You're probably the only ones who'd miss me, I'm sure. I'd miss you, too."