“He’s stable and, barring any complications, he should make a full recovery. If the bullet had been a higher caliber, he wouldn’t have made it. He has been very, very lucky. ”
Lucky.
Lucky was good.
I sagged against Branwell, my knees threatening to give out. Jack would be okay. He was stable.
I partially listened to the rest, words floating by me. Collapsed lung. Fractured rib. Monitor his recovery. Bullet lodged against an artery—
“Wait—what?” I interrupted.
The doctor shot me a ‘you poor thing’ look.
“The bullet didn’t exit his body,” he repeated. “Like I said, had you been packing a higher caliber pistol—something like what I understand the gunman was carrying—the bullet would have blasted right through Jack, killing him instantly. As it is, the bullet didn’t have enough power to exit Jack’s ribcage, leaving it lodged in his chest cavity. We can’t remove it.”
“Can’t?” Dante asked.
“We can’t. The way the bullet is situated against the artery, it would kill him if we removed it. So it stays. As long as he doesn’t re-injure the area and dislodge the bullet, it shouldn’t cause any problems.” The doctor moved on, discussing post-operative care.
My mind reeled. Was the bullet the reason why Jack was still corporeal?
It flooded me, blinding understanding.
My bullet was inside him. Permanently. If the gunman’s bullet had hit Jack, he would have died. But mine . . . saved him.
When we had experimented before with Jack eating and stabbing him with a needle, the items hadn’t been necessary to his survival.
But the bullet? It was necessary and as such, permanently changed his body from what it had been, grounding him to this world.
“Can I see him?” I asked.
The doctor studied me for a moment. “We don’t expect him to wake up for a while, but you’re welcome to sit with him until he does.”
Jack
The world came into focus bit by bit as I groggily pushed my way to consciousness.
Sensations intruded, sharp and harsh. Glaring light. Loud beeping. Cotton mouth, dry and uncomfortable. Throat scratchy, like I had been screaming. Legs and arms numb and clumsy. Clothing scraping against my sensitive skin.
Air rattled in my lungs.
What—
What?!!
Air. Lungs.Breathing.
I was breathing.
I could feel. Taste. Smell.
I sucked in a deep breath.
Pain shattered through me. I coughed. More pain.
Pain was . . . good.
I worked to pry my eyes open. They felt leaden, but eventually I managed to look up into a bright light.
