Hunted

Forty-Three: Pain

Pain returned first. After days of uncertainty, of brief twinges and flickers of aches, the full, excruciating force of James' injuries hit him, as he found himself dragged from the safety of his dream-like world back to the present, back to the sterile and cold surrounds of the New School's underground hospital.

He could see the flash of red again, a sight he had grown accustomed too over his days of semi-consciousness. Yet now as the medication moved back from his senses, allowing him to view the world as it truly was again, the blur of red seemed to solidify until James realised he was staring at the side of Ashley Porter's head.

A groan escaped his lips unbidden as he arched his back, fighting against the leather restraints that held him fast to the table. They were unrelenting against his strength, but his movement had caught her attention, her bespectacled gaze falling on him, marred with worry and kindness.

"James, it's okay," she breathed, though her words were too low, too urgent. She reached forward, making soothing sounds for him, as if he were a sick child, and smoothed back his wild hair that was now slick with sweat. "Just stay quiet. It will be okay". Her eyes darted away from him, before settling back, her eyebrows knotting together in concern.

"I can't... my alteration..." James mumbled, rattling his wrists against the straps fruitlessly. "What happened?"

"You were shot," she said, in a low voice. "Elmhirst, he..." she trailed off, gazing at him for a moment, her eyes glistening with tears.

"The Food Hall..." James nodded, swallowing as a tremor of pain ran through his body, the memories of his last truly conscious moments flooding back to him.

"The damage was extensive," Ashley nodded grimly, gazing down upon him. "If you hadn't made an effort to heal yourself before you passed out, we would have lost you".

"Why... does it still hurt?" he hissed, trying to hold his body still in an effort to halt the painful onslaught radiating from his chest and shoulder.

Ashley paused, worrying her bottom lip. She reaffixed her thick framed glasses, before sighing. "Elmhirst ordered for us to... leave you die," she whispered, her voice fading away.

"He what?" James grunted, clenching his jaw, his breathing ragged.

"If you hadn't healed yourself as much as you did, then maybe his death sentence would have been successful, but you have given your body a chance, it is designed to be strong, to be resilient..." she urged, glancing away again.

"But why? Why does it hurt so much... now? And if I'm not going... to die, could you at least help me to heal it fully?" he grunted, a whimper breaking through his words, as the pain continued to grow. It felt as if a gaping chasm had been blown in his chest, close to his left shoulder. He had never in his life felt such pain, a pain they could so easily make disappear.

"I can't... He won't allow me to heal it. It wouldn't be worth it, for either of us James," she pressed, resting a cool hand against his burning skin. "I have tried to keep you sedated until your body healed itself, but he's coming now, and he wants you awake," she whispered urgently.

"He's coming?" James asked, pulling against the restraints again, imagining the straps opening, imagining them falling apart, but they remained unrelenting. "Why can't I use my alteration?"

"I'm sorry James. You were... too dangerous," she whispered. "We were ordered to use a suppressor. Until it wears off you won't have the use of your alteration".

James' body tensed. "A suppressor? What the hell... is that?" he grimaced. Not having the use of his alteration was like taking away one of his limbs. It was as much a part of him as his right hand.