A Proscriptive Relationship

:A Proscriptive Relationship: 39

"Holly!"

Lance looked at me in complete shock, a wide grin spreading across his face. I couldn't help grinning right back at him as I stepped into the white hospital room. Lance went to move position, but a grimace of pain flashed across his face, and he stopped moving. My grin faltered and was replaced by a concerned expression.

"How are you?" I asked, dragging a chair over to his bedside.

"How am I?" Lance repeated, raising an eyebrow. "How are you?"

"I'm fine..."

"You haven't changed at all!"

"Was I supposed to?" I responded, growing more confused.

"Well, after three months, I'd expect you to look a tiny bit older."

"What are you talking about?"

Lance frowned, looking at me like I was an idiot. "I've been unconscious for three months, remember?"

"What? No you haven't," I responded, staring at him questioningly. "You've been out for about two days..."

Lance's facial expression immediately turned to irritation. "My mother is so going to get it..."

I laughed. "Your mom told you that you were out for three months?"

"Yeah," Lance responded with a nod. "I freaked out about it for a full hour this morning. I can't believe she tricked me!"

I laughed again, but my breath caught when I saw the bandages around Lance's chest. He caught me staring and quickly pulled his bed sheet over his chest, sending me a cheesy grin. It didn't help the knot that suddenly appeared in my stomach.

"It's not as bad as it looks..."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please, Lance. Being shot is as bad as it looks."

He sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. "Yeah, it was pretty bad at the time..."

"What exactly happened?"

"There's not much too it. I was leaving work, and before I knew it I was surrounded," Lance explained, sounding like he had explained it a thousand times before. "They asked about Chris, and I told them I didn't know him. They said they'd seen me with him, he tutors me by the way."

"I know, he told me."

"Well anyway. There was a little, er... hand-to-hand violence between us and then one pulled out a gun and that was that," Lance finished, pursing his lips. "But when I told the police-"

I gasped, making Lance look at me in surprise.

"What?"

"What did you say to the police? Oh, no... Lance, did you mention Mr. Heywood?" I demanded, growing antsy. "Please say you didn't."

"I didn't," Lance responded slowly. "Why?"

"It's a long story, Mr. Heywood will explain it to you," I told him, waving it off. "As long as you didn't mention him to the cops at all."

Lance shook his head. "I guess it's a good thing I didn't then, huh. But I did tell them about the gangster who shot me."

"Good."

"Holly, don't you think this situation is getting too dangerous for us?"

I looked at Lance, a frown on my face. "It's been too dangerous from the beginning..."

"Then why are you still involved?"

"As of now, there is no way I can get out of this," I told Lance, leaning back in my seat. "I've sort of dug my own grave..."