Scott POV

I couldn't stop myself as I walked out of Mitch's room and over toward the security desk.

"Trevor Ryan," I said as I approached the guard at the desk. "I need to see him."

"Are you his lawyer?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Then you can't see him until he's been processed."

I slammed my fists on the desk before turning and walking quickly to the nearest exit. I shoved open a door that brought me into an empty section of the parking lot. I turned around and connected my fist with the concrete wall of the hospital, causing rippling pain to course through my arm.

I shook my knuckles in an attempt to calm the agonizing sensation and started running toward Trevor's house without a second thought. I knew he wouldn't be there, I just had to let my anger out on something, and his house seemed most appealing.

I arrived within minutes and saw that the entire yard was surrounded in crime scene tape. I scanned the area for lingering police officers, and when I didn't see any I ducked under the tape and walked into the house.

There was a strange smell floating through the air that I couldn't quite place my finger on, but it smelled stale. It definitely wasn't there before. I was making my way toward the basement with the intention of punching holes in the walls when something caught my eye. It was the bright yellow tape making an 'x' over a door to my right. This must be Trevor's bedroom.

I pushed the tape carefully out of my way and opened the door. The scene that greeted me made me feel faint.

Police markers were placed all over the floor and nightstand, but what I noticed first was the bed. There was blood everywhere. A dried pool of blood was covering nearly the entire bed and there were small marks that looked like handprints smeared in it. I swallowed nervously as I realized that they must be Mitch's. To my right, I saw shredded remains of Mitch's red-stained shirt lying on the floor next to another police marker.

I quickly ran from the room, knocking down the tape crossed over the bedroom's doorway. I raced into the front yard and leaned over before throwing up into the grass. My head spun violently for a few seconds before everything went black.

Mitch POV

A woman walked into my room, her face gentle and kind.

"Mitch?" she asked sweetly.

I snapped up, my mind attempting to focus on her instead of whatever Scott might be doing right now. "Yes?" I answered.

She sat down in the chair that had previously been occupied by my boyfriend. He'd been gone now for more than two hours. I'd called him, but when he didn't answer I'd begun to get worried.

"My name is Jeanine Evans," she introduced. "I've talked with your boyfriend, Scott, a few times regarding your case." She paused and upon seeing my confusion added, "I'm a social worker."

I nodded.

"I just wanted to be the one to let you know that Scott has been admitted to the hospital-"

"What?!" I interrupted as I started to free myself from all the needles and wires I was connected to.

"Calm down," she said, grabbing my hands to stop me from ripping the needles out of my arm. "He's completely fine. He's filling out paperwork right now and he'll be back up here within the hour."

"What happened?" I asked, my voice exasperated.

"A jogger found him unconscious in Trevor's front yard. Scott told police he went in there out of curiosity and at the sight of all the blood, he passed out," she explained.

I nodded, my mind going in a million different directions as I tried to understand why he'd really gone to Trevor's house.

"He also fractured his right hand," she continued. "But they've put a brace on it and it should heal just fine."

"What? Did he punch another wall?" I asked, my voice full of sarcasm.

She nodded seriously and I couldn't help myself from laughing.

"What is so funny?" She asked, smiling slightly at my misplaced amusement.

I shook my head, "He's just had issues with walls in the past." I calmed myself. "It's really not funny at all, I'm just extremely tired right now."

"Well," she said, standing up. "Why don't you get some rest? Scott will be up in a few minutes."

I nodded as she left the room. Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later and Scott walked through, his hand in a black brace and his face pale. He had a half-empty bottle of water in his good hand and his eyes seemed vague.

"Sit down," I immediately told him. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," he objected, but he sat down anyways.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I asked, picking up his braced hand gently.

He sighed, "I don't know. I was just angry."

"Baby," I said, my voice sad, "You can't go around punching walls every time you get mad."

He laughed slightly, "I know. I don't know why I do that. I just have to hit something when I get angry and walls are usually what's there. Originally, I went down to the security office to see Trevor because I swear to god that bastard will get what's coming to him someday, but they wouldn't let me in."

"Good!" I said, my voice louder than it's been in days. "That is a terrible idea!"

His eyes still seemed fogged and he barely looked at me. "Sorry," he muttered.

Suddenly, his eyes flashed to my wrists and then his face lost the little bit of color that it had previouly possessed.

"Scott?" I asked worriedly.

He jumped up and ran across the room to the trash can, puking into it.

"Scott! Oh my God!" I yelled as he leaned up and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"I'm fine," he breathed, sitting down in the chair beside me.

"Are you sick?" I asked as I instinctively reached up and felt his forehead with my hand.

"No," he answered.

"Then why did you pass out? And why are you so pale? And why did you just throw up?" I asked each question before he'd had time to answer the last one.

He opened his bottle of water and took a sip before answering. "I went to Trevor's house. I'm not really sure why. I saw his bedroom and all the...blood." He swallowed nervously. "It was just too much."

I looked down, "Yeah, you've never had a strong stomach when it came to blood."

He shook his head, "But that wasn't just any blood, it was your blood."

"I'm fine now," I reassured.

He shook his head, "You're not fine!" He snapped, his voice suddenly loud. It filled the entirety of the small room.

My body went rigid at the sound of his yell.

"We're in a fucking hospital! You can't sleep at night without having nightmares!You are not fine!" He screamed, rage radiating off of him.

I didn't like this Scott. He reminded me so much of Trevor. I painfully rolled onto my side so that my back was facing him. I didn't want him to see the tears that rolled down my cheeks.

I knew I wasn't fine. I only pretended to be so that I wouldn't go mad. My facade was as much for my own benefit as for his.

"Mitch," he begged softly, his voice back to normal. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what just came over me. I didn't mean to yell at you like that. None of this is your fault."

Yes it is.

"Mitch," he plead again when I didn't answer.

He put his hand gently on my back.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice distressed. "Please talk to me."

I simply reached up and pushed his hand away. I heard him softly sniffling back tears. I didn't feel like talking to him right now. How could he be mad at me for trying to make the best of this situation?

Finally, after days without peaceful rest, I found myself drifting to sleep.