Hidden Enemies | The Prime Archives #2 ✓

twelve

"You're lucky your ribcage didn't cave in."

Oscar glowered at the nurse scribbling away on her clipboard. "You're saying that like I asked to get hit in the chest by one of Angus' fastballs."

"I'm just saying you should be grateful it wasn't a more damaging injury," she retorted. After she finished writing, she fished into the drawer next to the bed he was sitting in. She retrieved an orange pill bottle and stuffed it into his hands. "Take these once every twelve hours if the pain is too much for you. Some compresses will be sent to your room to help with the swelling."

He glanced down at his bare chest, which was slightly raised and red. A scowl sprouted on his lips as Angus' smug face popped into his head.

Out of all the gingers he knew, the boy from Nebraska was his least favorite.

"I've got someone else to check on," the nurse said while walking towards the door. She faced Oscar. "Do you need anything before I go?"

He shook his head. "I'm all good. Thanks."

She nodded and left the room.

Sighing, he fell back onto the bed and stared at the boring ceiling. The lingering soreness in his chest made him want to throw his entire body away. Alas, he was stuck with it. The pain was a reminder of what he was: a failure.

Sure, it had only been a game of capture the flag. But that wasn't the point and it wasn't the only time he'd caused his team to lose something. The fire in Manchester had been partially his fault. No one said anything about it to him, but he knew they blamed him.

He thought being a hero was going to be fun. He thought he'd be saving people and signing autographs and making kids smile. Not only did he not get to sign any autographs, but he was sure parents told their children was the guy who burned down buildings for a living.

At least his sister and uncle were still proud of him. Even if everyone in the world was against him, he knew he could count on them. He couldn't wait to go back home once he left the infirmary. A break from The Acropolis and his life as a superhero was crucial.

Just as he stood up to leave, Victoria entered the room. She looked him up and down before shaking her head.

"How are you still scrawny after all the training you do?"

"Lay off will you," he snapped. Normally, he would've taken her joke in stride, but he wasn't in the mood.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. "You alright, Oz? I heard what happened in The Battlefield. Angus was out of line for that attack."

"No, he wasn't," he argued. "He caught me off-guard and I paid the price." His jaw flexed.

"Excuse me for trying to make you feel better," she grumbled.

Rolling his eyes, Oscar headed for the doorway. Before he could make it there, she grabbed his forearm.

"What're you—"

"Stop acting like a baby and talk to me, Oscar."

He glared at her hand before shifting his fiery stare to her intense, blue eyes. For once, they weren't colder than ice. They were warm and inviting, like a fireplace on Christmas. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled.

"I'm just...having a hard time, alright. I keep screwing up and I don't know what to do. I'm..." He wiped his nose as he felt his eyes starting to water. "I just want to be good. For you, for the team, for my parents."

Victoria offered him a smile. "You're being too hard on yourself. You're not nearly as terrible as you think you are."

He snorted. "Thanks."