My Hand, My Song, My Freedom

---- Chapter 4 Jax' s private hospital room was opulent, a stark contrast to the general ward where Lila was recovering. He was heavily sedated, his eyes cloudy when they flickered open. "Lila?" he mumbled, his hand reaching out. "Lila, baby, you' re here." | took his hand. It felt hot, dry. "It's Scarlett, Jax." His eyes focused, confusion warring with pain. "Scarlett? Where' s Lila? Is she okay? Tell her I'm sorry, I..." "Jax," | said gently, my voice dripping with false sympathy. "Lila... she doesn' t want to see you. She said... she said she can't." He frowned, trying to push himself up.

"No. She' s just scared. She' |l come around." The door opened and Mr. Beaumont walked in, his face grim. "Son, ' m afraid it' s true. Miss Evans has made her feelings quite clear. She has no intention of continuing your... ---- association." Jax stared at his father, then at me, denial etched on his face. | leaned closer, delivering the words |' d rehearsed, words designed to shatter him. "She said... she said a man who can't even stand on his own two feet isn't a man at all." My eyes dropped pointedly to the heavily bandaged, inert shapes under the sheet where his legs were.

"She couldn' t bear the sight of you." | watched his face. The dawning horror. His eyes, wide with a terror that had nothing to do with physical pain, darted down to his legs. He tried to move them. A strangled sound escaped him. Then he screamed. A raw, animalistic sound of pure agony and despair as the full reality of his broken body, his lost future, crashed down upon him. | discreetly pressed record on my phone, capturing a short, sharp snippet of that terrible sound. Just a little something for later.