Hello, everyone! I'm feeling quite generous with updates right now, so here we go. This is more of the "torturing Chasey physically" instead of "torturing Chasey mentally" like last chapter. I don't know why I like this kind of thing. It's rather contradictory. Speaking of last chapter, thanks for the support. I really felt like I was opening up a bit, and you guys seemed very kind.

So we've still got a long way to go with this story. Let's get back on the tracks.

Injury Time

"Hold on, Chase! Just stay with me! They're on their way. Only a few more minutes. Come on. You can do it. I believe in you." Clara's voice was the only thing I could hear. It was getting harder to breathe.

I heard a car pull up, the door slamming, footsteps. "Clara! What happened?" That sounded like Mr. Davenport.

"I…I… He was just trying to protect me. I should have been more careful." I could hear her sobbing.

"Get him in the car, Adam."

I was being lifted up in the air. Someone set me down. "Oh, Chase…" Now, it was Bree's voice. "Just hang on. We're taking you to one of Mr. Davenport's secret hospitals. They'll take care of you there."

My mind felt hazy, disconnected. I wasn't really in control of my thoughts. If my eyes weren't closed right now, I bet my vision would be blurred and unfocused as well.

"Clara…" I heard someone whisper. It took me a second to realize that it was me. I thought I heard her voice in the distance somewhere, but all the noises were fading. I felt my arm go limp and smack into something, but I felt no pain. I felt nothing.

I wasn't dreaming. What was happening couldn't be described as a dream. No, it was more like…a memory, a flashback of some sort.

I was at the party I had been at earlier that night with Clara. Neither of us really wanted to go, but Mr. Davenport said we needed to be more "social." He said if we didn't go, he wouldn't let me read my chemistry book I had got. I wish I would have just refused.

The party was loud. And bright. And crazy. It was awful. We were having absolutely zero fun there and decided to leave early. That was our first mistake.

Our second one was taking the long way home. We walked through the streets, enjoying the night. After a while, we sat on a sidewalk bench and talked about random things. Then, a man came up to us and asked us for money.

I recognized him after a while. He was homeless and often on the streets of Mission Creek. Some people said he was crazy. Some said he was just in grief over the loss of his wife a few months back. I said it was probably a mixture of both.

We politely told him we didn't have any money, which was true, and tried to get up to leave. But out of nowhere, he pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket and pointed it at us. I instinctively stepped in front of Clara, my hands held up in a gesture of surrender and peace.

"Whoa, we don't want any trouble, dude," I told him. "If you want money, I can go home and get some if that's what you really want."

"I don't want your money," he growled.

I was puzzled by this contradiction, but I didn't have much time to be confused. Suddenly, he fired, aiming straight at Clara's head.

I didn't think. I pushed Clara back and jumped in front of her. I was slightly taller than her, so it hit my shoulder instead. I collapsed to the ground. I still remembered the pain I felt. Everything was on fire, burning so hot I could have sworn someone had set my shoulder ablaze.

I watched as Clara dropped to her knees next to me. The man walked away, his face full of surprise, as if he hadn't expected him to do that either. I strode over to my dream self, watching in a combination of morbid fascination and horror as I bled out on the sidewalk.

Clara was talking to me, but I wasn't paying attention anymore. She pulled out a phone and spoke into it. A few minutes later, Mr. Davenport, Adam, and Bree pulled up in a car. The sheer terror on their faces was enough to send a sliver of fear through me. Surely if they were this scared, this was a serious matter.

Adam picked me up and placed me in the car. I followed them, too interested to look away. My eyes were closed, but I could still see the faint rise and fall of my chest. Subtly, my lips moved. Even though I couldn't really read them that well, I knew what I had said. I was whispering Clara's name.

Mr. Davenport started driving. Adam was riding shotgun. I was sprawled across the backseat, with Bree at my feet and my head resting in Clara's lap. Luckily, Leo wasn't there or he would have fainted from the sight of all the blood.

I closed my eyes, trying to get rid of the image of my unconscious form in the back of the car. When I tried to open them though, they wouldn't. I only had time to realize I was waking up before everything dissolved into a hazy darkness.

My eyes were fluttering, not quite open yet. I could sense a light from behind my heavy lids. There was something soft and warm covering me. It took me a second to recognize it as a thin sheet. I was lying on some table or bed or something. There were people standing around me; I could sense their presence. I remembered Bree telling me something about Mr. Davenport's secret hospital and inferred that's where I was now.

Muffled words were floating in and out of my semiconscious brain. I concentrated hard on what they were saying.

"…increased brain activity…"

"…he's waking up…"

"…if he's going to do it, he'd better do it now…"

"…going into surgery soon…"

"Mr. Davenport, get in here!"

The last one I heard loud and clear, as if it was right next to my ear. There were sounds of scuffling, footsteps and repositioning. "Chase, can you hear me?" I knew that was Mr. Davenport's voice.

"Mr. …Mr. Davenport…" I suddenly remembered it was extremely hard to breathe.

"Chase? Chase, just hold on. They're going to operate on you, and you're going to be fine. Just stay with me. Only a little while longer, okay? Chase, can you hear me? Talk to me."

I felt him slip his hand in mine. It was rough and callused from years of tinkering and working. This was probably one of the most loving gestures he had ever shown toward me. I squeezed his hand weakly.

He squeezed back, and I could see in my mind's eye the smile that was lighting up his face. Then, he let go and was gone.

"Chase, if you can still here us, we're going to put you under, okay?" a voice I assumed came from a doctor said.

I didn't reply. Soon, everything dissolved into darkness. And I didn't have any dreams or memories this time.

Dirtkid123: I'm really glad I could help in any way. I hope for the best for you. Well you could say that... Maybe. I guess a little bit in this chapter. But not really.

Guest: Thank you. Glad you liked it.