Where's Joey?, chapter 4

I woke up the next morning. In Jakob's room. Damn. It's not a dream. I turned over. Jakob wasn't there. The door was cracked open. He has a little problem with closing doors behind him. I sat up in the bed and rubbed my face, then ran my hand through my hair.

I got out of bed and walked downstairs to the living room. Billie was still laying on the couch and Tre was asleep in a chair. I ran my hand through Billie's thick, black hair. He looked up at me. "Hey," he said, smiling slightley. His eyes were bloodshot.
I smiled and sat by his feet. "How's your leg?" I asked.
"Eh," he said, "The feeling's coming back. Just a little, though." I punched his leg. He yelped. "What was that for?" he glared.
"To see if you were lying," I smirked, "And you are."

He sat up and yawned. "What time is it?"he asked. I looked at the clock.
"7:30"
"In the morning?!"
"Yeah."
"Shit, we've never been up this early unless we had to go to the airport."

Tre stirred awake, stretched, and yawned. He scratched his head. "Mornin'!" he smiled at us. The phone rang. Billie and I looked at each other. I got up and answered it.
"H-hello?"
"Mrs. Armstrong?"
"Yes?"
"It's Dr. Yalo."
"Hi. What's up?"
"We need you to come down to the hospital. Now."
"Why? Is there something wrong with Joey?!"
"We need you here now."
"Just tell me!"
"You'll find out. All I can say is, it's a miracle."
"Okay... We'll be there."
"Alright. Goodbye."

I hung up the phone and grimaced. What kind of hospital won't even tell you what's wrong with your child?

I walked into the living room. "The doctor wants us at the hospital now," I said.
"Is there something wrong with Joey?" Billie asked, sounding worried.
"I don't know, they wouldn't tell me."
"What?!"
"Yep."
"What kind of hospital does that?"
"Same thing I'm wondering."

He got up and we headed for the door. "Could you watch Jakob, Tre?" Billie asked.
"Of course," he sighed, "That's all I'm good for." I giggled and we walked out the door.

We walked into the lobby of the hospital. The doctor stood there. Billie rushed foward and grabbed the doctor by the shirt. "Bilie, come one. Don't," I said.
He ignored me. "Tell me, right now," he said fiercely, "What the hell is wrong with my son?!"
"Just follow me," the doctor said calmly. Billie rolled his eyes and set him down. We followed him to Joey's room. He opened the door. I gasped.

"Joey!" I beamed, and ran to hug my son. He was sitting up, reading Kerrang! magazine.
"Hey, Mom," he said.
Billie messed up his hair. "Hey, buddy," he said. Joey ignored him. He was still mad at him.

"Mom,"Joey said.
"What, baby?"
"I.. can't breath."
"Ooh! Sorry."

I let go of him and he let out a breath through his nose. The doctor walked over. "Well," he said, "We did a cat scan last night after he woke up, and nothing's wrong. He wounds are healing nicely and his blood count is back to normal. Like I said, it's a miracle. Just, take it easy from now on, okay?" He smiled and messed up Joey's hair.
"Why is everyone doing that?" Joey asked jokingly.

"When can he come home?"Billie asked. Joey looked a little worried.
"He should be able to today," the doctor said. Joey looked as worried as ever. The doctor walked out the door.

"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I-I don't wanna go home,"Joey answered.
"Why not?" Billie asked. He kept quiet. "Why don't you want to go home?" Still quiet. "Hello? Talk to me. Why don't you want to go home?" He fidgeted, but still no words. "Joey, come on. You can tell me." He remained silent.

"Joseph Marciano Armstrong! Tell me right now why you don't want to go home!"
"Because! If we go home, you'll just leave again!" We stared at him. "You always leave. I don't want you to. Y-you're never around."
He turned over his hands, showing his stitched wrists. "That's why I did this. It's the only thing that'll make the pain go away."

Billie sat on the bed next to him. "You know it's not, Joey."
"Yes it is! It works everytime I've done it!"
"Everytime? Joey, how many times have you done it?!"
"Everytime you've been gone since I turned seven! Haven't you noticed that I've always worn long sleeves?"
"No, I'm sorry. I haven't."
"And do you know why? Because you're never home!"
"Babe, I'm sorry I'm never around. It's just that my job-"
"I don't care about your stupid job! I don't care if it keeps a roof over our heads! I wouldn't care if we were homeless! As long as you're there!"