HALLO! So here is another chapter, a lot later than I had hoped it would be so I apologise for that.

The last chapter was a bit clunky and I personally didn't like it at all, and I hope this one is a better read. The information about burns I found at Wikipedia, which I know can be unreliable, but if you wanted to look and understand what I mean when I mention the specifics, here is the page I used:


I didn't know how severe third degree burns etc were, and so I used that to see. I know it's not really common knowledge (at least, I don't think it is) so yeah . I'll probably talk more about the burns in another chapter, and how they affect Jason's life in terms of treatment etc.

Well, that's enough of me talking about injuries! Please, read on...

Chapter 4 – "The only sure thing about luck is that it will change" -Bret Harte

NAME: Jason Freeman

DATE OF BIRTH: 04/02/1994

SITUATION: House fire


First degree burns over ≈ 82% of skin

Second degree burns (deep partial thickness) over ≈ 20% of skin: outer left and right arms; back of shoulders; right side of face and neck


Patient is in a coma, time period unknown

No infection has occurred

Sight has not been affected (based on current knowledge)

Patient previously suffered from a crossbow wound

Awaiting psychological evaluation


The scream made Jason look up and around. Sienna had disappeared from his arms and was nowhere to be seen.

"Sienna?" He yelled.

"JASON!" Sienna was screaming his name again and again, her voice anguished.

"Jason? Baby, go to sleep...please...its late..." Jason now heard his mother's voice, pleading with him.

"Come on, son, through the ball! I may be old but I can sure catch a damned ball!" Mr. Freeman.

"Hey, Jase? Where's the iPod charger?" Dani.

Sienna. Mum. Dad. Dani.



Everything went black in Jason's little world. The grassy green hill he had been relaxing on had given way to nothingness.

The voices of his family and girlfriend were like cannons pounding in his head. Non-stop. Relentless.



"I know you want to stay up Jason, but it's already eight o'clock and you're meeting Tyler in the morning before school..."

What? Where am I?

"I told you I'd catch it! Now let's see if I can throw it..."


"Oi! I'm talking to you Jason! I'm going out and I need to charge my iPod!"

Then, as quickly as it began, the cannons ceased. Instead, in their place was one thing that Jason had not felt, or expected, for a long time.

True, unforgiving, glorious pain.

Jason was on fire. His arms, his shoulders, his face felt like it was being ripped off. He saw nothing, heard nothing, smelt nothing. He only knew pain.

De Vere Heights Hospital had seen a lot of trouble in the last few years from Jason Freeman. "Accidents" he was in, "accidents" he was connected to, but this was by far the worst. When Jason unexpectedly awoke from his temporary coma late in the afternoon, the day after the fire, it was, as hospitals say, 'an unfortunate occurrence, which the chances of are very slim '. This official line was dealt out many times when bad things happened in the hospital: someone waking up in the middle of an operation; someone diagnosing a patient wrongly. Rarely did they delve into numbers, but always the same principal.

"We are sorry for your loss, but everything that could've been done was. This is an unfortunate occurrence, and the chances of someone waking up mid-operation are very small, but it does happen."

Of course, the same thing would have been said to Mr and Mrs Freeman if it had been 'an unfortunate occurrence', but the fact of the matter was that someone woke Jason up deliberately. Someone with enough medical knowledge that they would know the pain would be unbearable. Someone who knew that the likelihood of a teenager enduring such pain was extremely slim.

And, of course, someone who wished to kill Jason Freeman in a very painful fashion.

Jason could see.

That one fact reverberated around his mind for a few seconds until he realised what he was seeing.

A hospital room. Beeping instruments. Lots and lots of complicated looking machinery. When he looked down at himself, however, the pain came right back around. It was as if seeing his burns made them come alive again with pain. It felt like all over his skin ants or spiders or some kind of insect was biting again and again. Non-stop little blasts of agony, everywhere. He kicked his legs and swung his arms, trying to shake of the pain and restlessness. They hit metal and the walls with loud thumps and slight cracks. He gasped and gaped, unable to draw enough breath to yell. The instruments around him rattled as the bed began to shake back and forth, Jason almost writhing within in. A faint corner of his brain registered the beeping noise getting quicker and quicker, knowing it was his heart.

But all that Jason wanted was ice cold water, or to shed his skin, or to just black out so he could no longer feel the pain.

What could he do? What could he do to make it stop? His legs were already bruised and one of his arms was certainly broken. He began scratching at his skin, trying to make the agony cease. He rubbed and pulled at his forearms and shoulders, at his face. He was lucky no one he knew saw such desperation and disaster, for they would have never looked at the teenager the same way again.

How long did Jason stay like that? He didn't know. Minutes, hours...all he knew of was pain. It's just like when you sit, and you have nothing to do. Sometimes only seconds pass, and sometimes you don't realise that an hour has gone with you just being. Jason considered these thoughts after the pain, after he was released from hospital, after his life got turned upside down and inside out for about the eightieth time.

How? Well, Jason's life was saved by a wandering nurse. The nurse was just about to end his shift, he was getting ready to go and take off his scrubs, when he passed Jason's room. The incessant beeping and rattling and clattering caused the nurse to spring straight into action, just as he had been taught. That anonymous, young and innocent nurse saved Jason's life; not from the clutches of a fire, or the immensity of his wounds, but from Jason himself.

Because Jason Freeman was trying to tear himself apart.