Hi, I suck at writing and I lie to you guys. It's been passed a week, whoops. Okay well leave a review, they made it easier to review... just sayin'.


Zion

"Hey, buddy. Can you hear me?" I heard somebody say above me.

My eyes flew open and my heart started to flutter in panic.

I tried to sit up, but there were strong hands holding me down.

I cried out as the pain and memories of what happened fled my mind. Then I started screaming, mostly from the pain but also from the confusion and fear of what was going to happen to me.

My head, ribs, and left arm were killing me. I couldn't breathe my ribs hurt so bad.

"Ida, call an ambulance," the voice above me growled.

"No," I managed to whisper, "No hospital."

The hands holding me down let go.

"Wait, Ida," The voice above me said.

Finally the voice shifted so that his face was in my line of vision. He was clearly Mexican with facial hair and shaggy dark hair.

"What's your name kid."

I closed my eyes and breathed, "Zion."

When I opened my eyes his flickered with confusion at my strange name.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"I don't know," I lied.

I knew what happened. I remembered it clearly, just like I remember everything else. The car hit me and I flew in the air and landed on the other side of it right on my side. I felt completely fine, so I got up and sprinted away. Once I hit the sand of the beach, I felt the pain starting to break through my frozen body and I collapsed and blacked out.

He sighed above me, "You know, don't you?"

I glared at him, "If I did, I wouldn't tell you anyways. I don't even know who the fuck you are."

"I don't even know who the fuck you are, but I'm helping you," He shot back.

I glared at him.

He sighed, "My name's Sam. I own the restaurant just down the beach. Ida, my cook, found you when he was leaving."

I groaned in pain as I tried to sit up.

"Hey take it easy. How old are you?" Sam asked me.

"Nineteen," I muttered through gritted teeth, completely lying.

"So, I take it you don't live with your parents?"

"No, got out of there as soon as possible."

Sam nodded like he understood, "So, you live by yourself?"

I nodded, lying once again.

"Is there anybody I can call?"

"I don't know anybody around here, I just moved here. Anyways, I don't have many friends at all."

His eyes softened and he turned to Ida, "Call Santi."

I watched Ida as he left. He was a big guy, probably six five or so, at least three hundred pounds and Mexican like Sam. He was covered in tattoos and I couldn't help but notice the ones that he and Sam had in common.

I'd seen those tattoos before around town, but they were always on older guys. Dax told me that they were from some gang that got torn up a while back.

"Whose Santi?" I asked.

"My best friend. He's a doctor."

I started to object, but he signaled for me to shut up, "He's cool. He does this kind of stuff all the time."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Believe or not, Zion, there are a lot of people like you that don't want to be found in the world and when they need help they call Santiago."

"Does this guy have a real job?"

He nodded, "He's a trauma surgeon. Damn good at what he does too."

"I just hate hospitals," I muttered, "Bad things happen there."

Sam nodded, as if he believed me, "Yeah, I know."

Santiago was Mexican just like Sam and Ida, but he was a lot more clean cut. It was clear that he had been sleeping when Ida called him. He was wearing a college t-shirt, baggy sweat pants, and slippers.

His hair was cut neatly, unlike Sam's whose stuck out all over the place. He had a shadow of stubble on his chin, from not shaving yet and the same tattoos on his arms as Sam and Ida.

"Ida, go home before your wife hits me with another shoe," Sam told Ida.

Santiago looked down at me and let a breath of air escape from his teeth.

He turned towards Sam, "Go get my backpack from my car."

Sam nodded and started jogging away.

"I'm Santiago, everybody calls me Santi though."

"Zion," I muttered.

"Interesting name."

I grunted.

He started looking me over, starting with my wrist. I cried out in pain at first, but shut myself up by biting my lip.

"Yeah, that doesn't look good." He said, scrunching his nose.

I would've made a smartass remark, but I didn't have the energy.

He moved on to my ribs and again I chopped down on my lip to keep myself crying out in pain.

He lifted my shirt and I objected a bit, but he just shhed me.

"I can't see anything anyways. Sam, let's get him in the restaurant."

Sam had returned, a backpack in his hands, "Okay," He said, slinging the backpack on his back.

"Can you sit up?" Santi asked me.

"Yeah," I muttered and slowly sat up, but tasted blood as I bit my lip hard.

"Okay, you grab his right arm and pull him up." Santi told Sam.

Sam nodded and grabbed under my right arm and helped me get my footing.

"You good?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," I whispered as Santi grabbed my other side, carefully not touching my wrist.

Sam's restaurant was only about a hundred feet away, but it took forever to get there.

It was a small diner open twenty four hours. Luckily there wasn't anybody in there, except the waitress who gave Sam a look and just shook her head.

They drug me to a back room, that looked to be Sam's office, and set me down on the loveseat.

"God, you look worse in the light, if that's possible." Sam muttered.

Santi wasted no time, he ripped my shirt so that he could get it off without moving me anymore. He flinched a bit at the damage, but it was Sam that gasped.

Santiago looked at his best friend and pointed to the door, "Sam, I'll let you know if I need you."

"How about I sit over at my desk."

"Fine, just shut up, alright."

"Dios mios," Sam muttered as he sat down at his desk.

"What?" I hissed.

Santi shook his head as he started pressing around, "Just some bruising, that's it."

He reached down for his backpack and pulled out a stethoscope, I hated those things because they always gave me away.

"Are you seriously going to waste your time pressing that on my chest when I'm in pain. I'm breathing, my hearts beating, I'm alive so just fix me," I muttered.

He looked in my eyes and shrugged, "Fine. If you say so."

"It's just a waste of time," I muttered, relieved to say the least.

He moved his hand down my right arm and froze.

I knew what he was looking at, trust me I had to look at it for practically my whole life. The scar that covered my arm from my wrist to my elbow was the reason why I wore long sleeve shirts all the time. The reason I'm left handed.

The incident leading to the scar happened when I was six, right after my first day of school. I remember I was so excited to tell my mom about my first day and all the friends I made. When I got home, Mom was completely wasted and her boyfriend of the time was beyond high.

Hayden wasn't home yet and I was hungry. I moved the chair so that I could reach the plates up in the top counter, as I grabbed one in my tiny fingers my mom's boyfriend, whose name I couldn't remember, said something and it spooked me. I don't remember what he said, but I remember him sneaking up on me.

The plate crashed to the ground, shattering to a million tiny pieces. Mom's boyfriend started laughing and then he grabbed me by the collar of the shirt. He picked up a piece of the shattered glass, threw me against the fridge, and held the piece of glass to my throat. I thought I was going to die, I really did.

He just laughed at my reaction and then moved the glass down to my arm and slid it from the top of my wrist to where my arm bent. He laughed as I started to cry and blood started pouring out of my arm.

"What the hell is going on!" Hayden asked, coming into the kitchen his backpack on his back.

Mom's boyfriend just dropped the piece of plate and smiled at me. I would never forget that smile and that dazed look in his eyes.

Hayden saw what was happening and pushed Mom's boyfriend out of the way. He grabbed a dish towel and tried to wrap it around my arm, but the gash was too big. I felt light headed and before I knew it everything went dark.

I woke up on Hayden's bed, he had literally sewed the gash in my arm close and kept on feeding me Nyquil to knock me out and keep the pain away.

I stayed home from school for twelve days and so did Hayden. He pulled the thread out when I was asleep one night and the jagged scar has been there ever since.

Even at six I knew that I couldn't go to the hospital when I needed, because my brother and I would've gotten taken away and separated. I couldn't even explain to my teacher why I was gone for twelve days. Hayden forged a note saying that my arm got ripped open by a nail when I was climbing a tree house. She then taught me how to hold a pencil in my left hand, because I could barley move my right.

"Where'd you get that scar? It's pretty nasty." Santi asked, something stirring in his eyes.

"Nowhere," I muttered, closing my eyes.

He sighed and as I opened my eyes I saw that he held a pill bottle.

"Sam, go get some water," Santi muttered.

I heard Sam get up from his desk and leave the room.

"Okay, look Zion, I've dealt with a lot of stuff over the past years, but if you're hurting yourself…"

He didn't finish because I started laughing, "You think I did this to myself? God, you're an idiot."

"Then who did it to you?"

I just shook my head, "Doesn't matter anymore."

Sam re-entered the room with a glass of water.

He said something to Santi in Spanish and Santi said something back to him.

Santi took out three pills and handed them to me with the glass of water, "Take these, they'll make you go to sleep."

I shrugged and managed to swallow them down.

Santi and Sam started a conversation in Spanish and I tried to grasp what they were saying but before I knew it I was slipping into a deep sleep.

When I woke up it was bright out and I was still in Sam's office. It was probably nine o'clock in the morning.

My whole body was soar, but there wasn't any searing pain like the night before. I sat up slowly and looked around. Sam or Santi wasn't anywhere to be found.

I automatically noticed the window above Sam's desk and I walked over there. I used his chair to get on the desk and slid the door open.

Every muscle in my body was screaming at me, but I fought the pain and dropped out of the window.

And without looking back I headed for the warehouse.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Dax asked as I limped up the beach.

Dax, Jordan, Logan, Tanner, and Violet were sitting around a bonfire on the beach, cooking something.

I just shook my head and headed for the door.

Dax and Jordan got up and followed me. They grabbed my arm and helped me to my bed.

"What happened?" Dax asked again, as they lowered me down to my bed.

"I was hit by a car, okay?"

His eyes went wide, "What?"

"I'm fine, just a little bruised. I just need to sleep."

Jordan nodded to Dax and Dax nodded back, Jordan left a second later.

"Dude." Dax muttered.

"Just leave me alone."

He sat on the edge of my mattress, "You look like death and I am not going anywhere."

I glared at him, but was too tired to care.

As I started to slip into sleep I heard him mutter, "And you're supposed to be the smart one, Z, but you scare me all the time."