The first thing he felt was the pain. Razor-like spikes of pain that radiated from the huge knot on the back of his head and connected with various other injuries on his body. He swallowed but his throat felt like it stuck together and his tongue was a dry wooden plank in his mouth. A voice boomed in his ear.
"Mickie! He's awake!"
Shut the fuck up!
He wanted to scream. His head throbbed like a stubbed toe and the sudden loud noise had made him jerk. Soft fingertips connected with his cheek and his focus turned to them, concentrating on the texture. They were replaced by a pair of firm lips that gently touched several places on his face. Wincing, he forced his eyelids open, he blinked repeatedly, waiting for his sight to clear and for his pupils to adjust to the light.
"You stupid son-of-a-bitch!"
Darrin threw his arms over his head, hoping that the action would keep the sound from reaching him. "Please don't yell."
"You're lucky that I don't beat the shit out of you!" Mickie yanked his arm down, peering into his bruised face. "What the fuck did you think you were doing? How the fuck could you try to kill yourself?"
"Easy. I jumped off the bridge."
"You piece of shit!" Mickie punched him hard in the arm and went running off, sobbing loudly. Darrin heard a door slam and covered his face with his hands.
"She's right, you know."
