Busting it Up

Joe stood up from where he had collapsed into the hard plastic hospital chair, hands clenching and unclenching, pacing back and forth.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. They were supposed to grow old together, as close as any two brothers could be.

It's my fault. I should have been with him. I should have been there. Why did I say I would go out with her? She doesn't even mean anything to me. It's my fault. If I had been with him like I was supposed to be, this might not have happened. What happened anyway? It doesn't even matter. What matters is that it's my fault.

It's my fault!

JOe spun around and slammed his fist into the unyielding wall. He didn't care about the pain, he welcomed it. Looking at the wall, Joe hit it again, and again, leaving red streaks on the clinical whiteness.

"Sir?" a small voice said from behind him.

Joe spun around, fist raised. Before him stood a small nurse. She couldn't have been much older than Joe himself. Joe lowered his fist slowly, "Sorry."

The nurse approached him and took his broken and bleeding hand in her gentle grip, "Let me fix this up," she said.

Joe jerked his hand out of hers, "can you fix him?" his tone bordered on nasty.

The nurse looked up at him, "We are going to do our very best."

"But what if it's not enough?" Joe asked, his voice rising, anger seeping out to lash at this young woman. He stepped back as she approached him again, holding his hand out of reach.

"I promise you sir, I will give it all I have got, and not a bit less," she said.

Joe looked down at his mangled hand. Blood was dripping from his fingertips, and the skin was torn over the knuckles. He was pretty sure that the bones were fractured as well.

The nurse held out her hand to him and Joe reluctantly placed his injured hand in hers. She gently cleaned up the gore and applied bandages. "My name's Jen, by the way," she said.

"Joseph," Joe said; his eyes still burning with anger.