[Copyright © 2013 A Deal with the Daredevil]

All rights reserved.

***

Ryder's POV

Turning my bike into the hospital's parking lot, I climbed off and headed to the entrance. Placing my keys in my pocket, I patted myself in search of my phone, making sure I had it with me. Thankfully, I hadn't left it home like I usually did.

Walking into the hospital, I headed down the usual path. I'd been here every weekend for the past year; I knew the way by heart. Every time it got harder to step foot in here, because as the days went by, so did the chance of him ever waking up. As the days went by, I found myself losing hope, losing the only thing I really needed. As I walked down the white hallways, the weight of reality pressed down on me, making it difficult to put a foot in front of the other. But I continued on, needing to reach his room, even if it killed me in the process.

Finally reaching his room, I sighed. Every time I came here, I let myself hope that I'd walk in and he'd be a awake and wearing that scowl I knew he would give me for letting him stay that way for so long. Each time I was disappointed. Each time, I was greeted by reality at his door.

Walking further into the room, I sat down in my usual chair, my eyes never leaving his laying form. It almost looked like he was just sleeping. I liked to think that he was, that we would wake up and say, 'Ha! Got ya', sucker,' and then we'd laugh. But I knew that wouldn't happen. He hadn't woken up those first few months, and it was now a year; enough time for me to realize that this wasn't one his notorious pranks.

My eyes traveled up to his face and I felt a lump rise in my throat. I'd never seen him look so pale, so thin, so...lifeless. I felt tears prick my eyes and I quickly blinked them away. He needed me to be strong, so that's exactly what I was going to do. I couldn't give up on him; he would never give up on me.

I found myself walking down the hallway a few hours later in search of the doctor that was treating him. Walking around the corner, I spotted her up ahead, so I sped up to catch up to her.

"Dr. Gray," I called out. She stopped and turned round, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

"Ryder," she greeted me with a soft smile.

I slowed down once I reached her. "How is he?" I asked, getting right to the point. I'd already asked this question a few days ago and she'd given me the same answer she did. We both knew why I was there; there was no point wasting time. And even though every time she gave me that answer and I lost a piece of me; I kept asking it over and over. I kept hoping that perhaps one day, the answer would be different.

She gave me a sympathetic, almost apologetic, smile and my eyes lowered in disappointment. I knew what that smile meant. It meant she didn't have any answers for me that I already didn't know. It meant that the answer was the same as yesterday, the day before and the day before that.

"Ryder, I need you to understand that there is a possibility that he may never wake up," she told me with sad eyes and in that moment I felt the last thread of hope left in me, break. I let out an exhausted sigh and ran a hand down the side of my face, fighting tears. It killed me to think that he could never wake up again. He was the only family I had; I needed him. The rest of the family had been there for me for the first few days, but as the days went on, so did they. They had lives and had to get on with it.

"Isn't there something we can do?" I cleared my throat when my voice broke. She glanced away and I knew my answer. There wasn't. "Okay, thanks, Dr. Gray...if anything-"

"I know, give you a call." She gave me a sad smile and walked away. I stood there for a minute to gather my bearings. I hated being so helpless. I hated that there was nothing I could do. I hated it so fucking much that he was just laying there, while life went on like he never existed. Like he didn't matter. There were so many times that I just wanted to stay in my room and never come out, but I knew he would kick my ass if I did. He wouldn't want me to lock myself up from the world; he would want me to live every moment of my life like it was my last. He made damn sure that I knew that.

Letting myself slide down the wall, I rested my elbows on my knees and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Dialing Oliver's number, I brought the device up to my ear.

He answered after a few rings with a, "Hey, man."

"Oliver, set up a dare," I told him over the phone.

"Already have one, actually," he informed. I could almost see him grinning on the other side of the call. Oliver and I usually split the money when I did a dare. He would set up dares with bored, rich kids who didn't have anything better to do than to spend money, and I would carry the dare out. It was an unspoken agreement.

"What?" I asked, pulling myself off the ground and heading to the hospital's entrance.

"You know Tucker and Isaac Perin?" he asked and I scratched my head, thoughtfully.

"Who?" I asked, giving up. I was out the doors and next to my bike as I asked this, so I climbed on my bike and sat waiting for his answer.

"You know what? You don't need to know. All you have to know is that they'll give you five hundred bucks to fuck the preacher's daughter, tonight." Were they kidding? That couldn't be the dare. It was too easy. Those little fuckers never made it easy. "Here is the catch: the preacher has to catch you." There it is.

And that is how I found myself staring into the sheriff's Polaroid camera, a split lip and a cut below my right eye. Let's just say the preacher did not take the fact that I banged both his wife and daughter, too well. It was worth it, though. The preacher's daughter—whatever her name was—wasn't the goody-two-shoes people thought she was.

I spent the night in jail and was only released because the preacher decided to drop the charges. I was guessing he didn't want this to get out. I didn't care what his reasons were, I just needed to get home and take a shower. It had been a long night and my cellmate was starting to creep me out. He'd spent the entire night leering at me, his eyes filled with lust; I hadn't slept a wink in fear that I'd wake up with his junk in my face. I would not be raped by a drag queen dressed as Madonna. No way in hell.

Climbing in Oliver's car, I threw my jacket onto the back seat and took the money he was handing me. "Thanks for picking me up," I mumbled as I made sure I had all of my belongings in the little plastic bag.

"Sure." I pulled my watch on, pocketed my phone, wallet an keys, and shoved the plastic bag in Oliver's car's compartment. "What happened to your face anyways?"

I chuckled. "The old man's got a good swing."

"Yeah?" he replied with an amused laugh. "Well when his wife cheats on 'em with you and then he finds you banging his daughter, the old bat has a reason to swing in the right direction."

I shrugged. "It's not my fault that he wasn't giving his wife what she wanted and that his daughter is quite the little whore."

Merging onto the left lane, Oliver laughed. "You're going to hell, man."

"Don't all whores and sluts go to hell?" I replied with a smug look and he chuckled. "Isn't that really like paradise for me?"

"I'm surprised your junk hasn't fallen off," he answered, shaking his head, his eyes on the road.

"One girl did try to put a curse on me that would make that happen," I informed him, with a lazy shrug, I added, "guess she lied when she said she was a witch and could fuck me while floating in the air...I wouldn't know since I was too preoccupied with her boobs."

He laughed once again and I grinned. I only spoke the truth. I did have a girl say that to me—and yes, I actually believed her. What can I say? She had boobs. If you had a pair of boobs, I would be distracted, which meant you could say absolutely anything to me, and I'd believe you. Like I said, it's like I'm under a spell; I can't help it.

"Did Finn tell you about Toby's prank on Lucas and Elijah?" I turned to him with interest. It had been a week since the two players had been kicked of the team and also a whole week that the team had reigned hell down on them. If you were on the hockey team and a senior, there was one thing you had a privilege of knowing.

The rule of hell.

It was basically a rule stating that if any member of the team was to dishonor or jeopardize the team's future in anyway, he was to be kicked off the team and pranked by the senior class players for a whole month. The captain of the team—me—kept an old book in his locker—which was always the same locker; locker 231—in a hidden compartment, which listed all the rules for the month of hell. Lucas and Elijah were just on week one and it was already hell. From porcupines in their lockers, to leaking a tape of Elijah admitting he had the crabs, when we'd been on a school field trip, the hell was just getting started.

"What did they do?" I asked him expectantly. I hated having to cut members of the team, but if they messed up, it was always fun to fuck with their lives.

"They drugged them and dragged them, while they were asleep in their mattress, and left them adrift in the pond near Clay's house." I smirked. Nice. Toby had the reputation among the senior class of being one of the best pranksters. Toby would go above and beyond to pull a good prank; it was his thing. The guy literally spent hours coming up with the perfect prank and he usually pulled it off, without getting caught.

Shaking my head, I stared out the car window at the passing buildings.

"Did you go to the hospital?" I heard Ollie ask next to me and I turned towards him.

"Yeah..."

"How's he doing?" he asked, shooting me a glance.

I shrugged, "Same as always."

He nodded. "I'm sorry, man." I gave him a short nod in reply and turned my attention back to the window. That's when I felt my phone buzz in my jean pocket and I pulled it out to find a text message from Casey.

Was she kidding?

I texted back. No way in hell would I ever say no to food; that would be crazy. Food was one of the most important things to me. How would it not be when my father was a chef?

"We're here," I heard Ollie say next to me and I reached around to grab my jacket. Doing the handshake men do—I won't explain, use your brain—I climbed out the car and headed to the entrance of my house. Spotting my bike hidden behind the bushes, I walked over to it and rolled it into the garage once the door slid up—silently thanking Oliver for bringing it home.

Walking into my house, I couldn't help but sigh. My house was usually quiet; it was expected since I was the only one living there. After everything that had happened, my family members had offered to help out and have me live with them, but they lived back home and I wanted to be here just in case things changed. My aunts checked in on me every now and then, but other than that, I was on my own.

Even though I preferred living alone, sometimes the silence was too much. Especially on day's that I visited him. Sunday's were reserved for my visit to the hospital, and coming back home, reminded me that he wasn't here. It had been a year, but I still couldn't get used to the fact that I was mostly on my own. I couldn't get used to not hearing the game on, which was usually foreshadowed by his complaints of how rubish the players were.

Shaking off the sadness that tried to overtake me, I hurried up the stairs. I needed to take a shower and get ready to go to Casey's. I was happy that I didn't have to spend the night in my house.

I was happy to not have to be alone for the night or with some random chick.