*CHAPTER 44*

*CHAPTER 44*
I don't know how hard I hit my head against the pavement, but, everything past that point came in bits and pieces. I lay on my back, ears ringing painfully, as I stared up at the fiery wreckage my house had become. I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. But everything was hot and roaring and God, it hurt.

Distantly I thought I heard my name being called—shouted, rather. Raw panic in the voice. I couldn't be sure though, because my vision faded to black. The next thing I was aware of was being loaded onto a bed. No, not a bed, a stretcher. Muffled voices spoke above me, their voices smothered behind the ringing in my ears. More flashing lights. Red and blue this time.

I didn't recognize the faces that stared down at me, mouths moving with questions I couldn't hear. The smell of smoke overtook everything and I coughed at the burning in my throat before my vision faded to black again.

The next time a wave of consciousness brought me to the surface, I was staring up at a familiar face. I wasn't sure how I knew her at first, my mind moving sluggishly as I stared up at brown eyes crinkled with concern at the corners. At the sound of her muffled voice though, my mind worked it out.

Jenna. Her face was surrounded by a halo of industrial white lights. The smell of smoke was gone, replaced with the scent of burning antiseptics. Hospital, I realized. I was at the hospital. Jenna was in her navy blue scrub top, mask on her face, but it was her. Surrounded by others in similar colored scrubs, she looked away to call out orders to the people around her who shuffled away to do her bidding.

I felt like I was floating, the ceiling moving above me, but no. The bed I was laying on was being moved. Rolled. Ceiling lights flashing in blinding patches as they passed. Jenna's face appeared over me again, "It's going to be okay, Kassie." The sound of her voice still sounded like it was coming from behind layers of cotton and ringing, but I watched her lips moving, mind sluggishly trying to keep up with what she was saying, "You're going to be alright. Just hang in there, sweetheart."

The next skip of consciousness had me waking up to raised voices. Shouts.

"You can't be back here."

"What the hell is going on? Where is she? Where is the girl who just got brought in?"

"Sir, if you don't leave right now, I'm going to call security."

"Go ahead and call security, I'm not going anywhere."

A third, placating voice, "Malcolm—"

"Jenna, tell me what the fuck is happening—"

"We need to give the other doctors and nurses space to do their work, honey."

"I'm not leaving."

The voices faded again behind the beeping and whirring of machines. The fading lull of drugs took me under again.

I stayed under longer this time. At least it felt that way. Lulled in twisting hazy dreams comprised of bright colors. Foggy shapes danced across my consciousness. Memories mixed with dreams until I wasn't sure what was real anymore.

I woke to the sound of beeping. For a single panicked moment, I thought I was sleeping through my alarm clock and my eyes fluttered open. No, not my alarm, I realized. Machines. Lots and lots of machines. The room was unfamiliar, the mattress lumpy, and something poked uncomfortably in the crook of my elbow as I shifted. A glance down showed me it was needles taped to my skin.

The light was dim, but still bright enough to see the industrial walls and floors, the flimsy curtain blocking off half of the room. My body complained with dull aches as I shifted to look around. Movement in my peripheral drew my eye. In an uncomfortable looking chair near my hospital bed was a familiar figure. As I stirred, he shifted in my direction.

"Malcolm?" My throat was raw, voice coming out in a rough croak. What was Malcolm doing here?

I wasn't sure if my sluggish mind was imagining the look of relief or if it was something else that rolled over his face as my eyes blearily focused on him. It smoothed out a moment later.

"Here," A cup appeared at my lips. I took the straw he offered into my mouth, greedily sucking down the cool water until the cup ran dry. He stood, chair scraping against the floor as he moved, "I'll get you some more."

He pushed past the curtain at the far side of the room, coming back a moment later. Like before, he put the straw to my lips and I downed that cup too, until my empty stomach sloshed with water and I leaned back tiredly into the pile of pillows at my back. A distant part of my mind wondered what alternate reality I'd stepped into where Malcolm was taking care of me.

"I called the nurse back," he resumed his position in the chair beside my bed, "she's getting you more pain medicine."

"I'm fine," I told him, though now that he mentioned it, I was feeling a few aches. His eyebrow with the scar through it raised his eyes flashing with disbelief.

"You have three broken ribs, a possible skull fracture, and a third degree burn on your left leg. You're not fine."

I grimaced. Yeah okay, maybe I was a bit sore.

The room was dim, but I couldn't make out a window anywhere. I glanced around for a clock and when I didn't find one I asked, "How long have I been here?"

"It's one in the morning. So, we've been here more close to thirty-six hours."

I noted his use of the word 'we' instead of 'you'.

I felt my brow scrunch, "You've been here the whole time?"

He shrugged, but that stiff gesture and the flattening of his lips told me, yes he had been.

"Do you remember what happened?" He asked.

Flashes of fire and sounds of plaster cracking, glass smashing, rushed back to me and I clenched the rough hospital blanket between cold fingers. I nodded. It took a moment to form words, but surprisingly Malcolm didn't rush me, just sat back patiently, still for once, but like a roaring fire, something flickered beneath the surface of that stillness.

"I knew something wasn't right when I got there. I..." I unconsciously bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, the sharp tang of iron tugging me back to reality, "Do you know what happened to my uncle?"

His face was still, eyes tense, "I haven't heard anything. I'll ask though."

"His car was in the driveway," My voice was barely a whisper, more to myself than to him, "I think he was inside when it happened." Admitting it aloud had something cold taking root in my chest.

If David had been in there...

"We don't know anything yet." It was an attempt at reassurance, but just the strained set of Malcolm's shoulders told me he'd reached the same conclusion I had. And it wasn't good. "Let's wait until we talk to someone before we jump to any conclusions."

My throat tightened, suddenly dry again, but I nodded.

The nurse Malcolm had called for entered the room then. She was an older woman whose eyes flicked to Malcolm with obvious distaste before turning to me. Her smile was kind, if a bit tired as she bustled around me, "It's good to see your eyes open," she said, moving my arm around to check my blood pressure before hooking up a clear bag to my IV line, "I'll let the doctor know that you're awake, hon. They'll be by to check on you soon."

Finished checking my vitals, and seemingly satisfied that the medications would be sufficient, she shuffled out of the room, with instructions to get some more sleep.

"Do you need anything else?" She asked, halfway out the door.

"No, I'm f—"

Malcolm interrupted, "Could you bring her another blanket?"

I most definitely didn't need them, but was too tired to argue.

She threw him a tight look she barely managed to conceal before she shuffled out of the room. I blame the drugs for the huff of scratchy laughter that I tried to muffle behind my hand. Malcolm turned a questioning look my way.

I shook my head, "I don't know how you manage to get on someone's bad side everywhere you go."

His mouth twitched in amusement, "It's a gift."

The nurse shuffled back in then, Malcolm stood from his spot in his chair to tuck the blanket around my feet, adjusting the pillows around my head until I was cocooned as tightly as a swaddled baby. I stared up at him with wide eyes, bewildered, not sure what to make of this new unfamiliar version of Malcolm---wondering how many people had seen it.

Now, completely cocooned in a pile of pillows and blankets and the cool liquid trickling into my veins from the IV and into my arm, exhaustion had my eyelids drooping again. I'd been sleeping for hours, but my body didn't seem to know that.

Before I allowed myself to succumb to the heavy pull of my eyelids creeping up on me, I turned my head back in Malcolm's direction where he was again getting situated in the uncomfortable looking chair. I peeked an eye open and slurred, through partially numb lips, voice slurring slightly, "You don't need to stay the night here with me, you know. I'll be okay if you want to leave."

He rolled his eyes like I was the one being unreasonable, "I'm not going anywhere." The mattress shifted slightly as he propped his shoe clad feet up on the empty space at the foot of the bed, settling in.

No matter my personal feelings about Malcolm—how much he annoyed me, how much we butted heads, there was something oddly comforting in the knowledge that he was staying. No matter our bickering, I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to me while he was there, even if it were just because of the Curse binding us together.

"Good," I mumbled, as my eyes drifted shut again, finally too heavy to keep them open any longer. Sinking deep into the lumpy mattress, I drifted into an exhausted drug-induced sleep.

"The fire in his eyes cooled as his gaze landed back on me,"Get some sleep kid."

I rolled my eyes at that stupid nickname, but did as he said. I knew I should tell Malcolm that he didn't need to stay, that he could go back to Jenna's and Richard's house and sleep in an actual bed. But in spite of everything there was something oddly comforting having him here.