Chapter 2

                                    

                                          
Stampys POV
                          
The next day I woke up to the feeling of something sharp getting jabbed into my arm and a grey light spilling out of the small window that gave me a low visibly to the outside world. I pretended that I was asleep and didn't feel it as I didn't want to bother any more people with my cries or whimpers of pain. I had probably already ruined Squids life with what happened yesterday. That was just pure torture. Then again, I probably deserved stuff like that. If it wasn't for me giving Kendal away then Sqaishey would have never screamed out loud, making the cancer even worse. I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled my-knee-up to my chest. It felt so odd...They always talk about soldiers who loose limbs in the war yet they never talk about why it's so bad; and for a very long time I thought that it wasn't bad in the slightest, in fact, I thought that it was good! Now I was starting to see that it was the complete opposite of that. Just the thought of trying to wobble around on a thick stick and the only control that I had over it was a small, meaty stump that hurt constantly was enough to make me shiver with fear. How the heck did people do stuff like that? Well, if they could do it then I surely could. 
                          
I quickly glanced around the room to make sure that the doctor was there, which he wasn't, and pulled myself upwards. A sharp pain throbbed throughout my small stump. How could something so small hurt so freaking much? I thought that the pain would die down when I went to sleep but it was even worse. I wasn't able to fall into a proper sleep for hours and hours. The only time when I was able to sleep was when I was so tired that my body wasn't bothered about the pain anymore, and just wanted me to sleep. It was either that or the medicine that the doctor gave me in the middle of the night that sent me into a rough, nightmare filled sleep. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked all around the room, trying to take in as many details as I can. Ever since I had woken up all that I have done is gone and used the bathroom, sleep, talk to people and read letters. I hadn't had any time to properly look around the room that I was destined to be in for at least another week or so.  
                          
The first thing that I laid my eyes upon was Squid. Wait...Why the hell was Squid in here? He was curled up on the plastic blue chair that was stuffed in the corner, fast asleep. Did he stay the night then? For what reason? Did he think that I somehow was just....going to die overnight? I was out of my coma now! I was basically in the clear. If I was going to die then Squid would be the first to know. Either me or my doctor would tell him right away. I thought about waking him up for a moment, to show him that I survived the night. After a few seconds I decided that it would be best if I just let him sleep for a few more hours or so. He deserved it. Especially what he had must've gone through over the course of the last four months or so. Squid was the one to find my body on the tracks. He was so shocked and scared that he was freaking sick! Once I was in the coma...What else must have he had to go through? Telling our fans, maybe visiting me daily, telling my family most likely...It must've of been the worst experience of his life. 
                          
I sighed quietly to myself and pulled back the covers. I was about the go into the bathroom when I noticed my stump. For a split second I forgot that I even had a stump. Even when my mind did settle though the small chunk that somehow got called a leg still looked disgusting. The main part of the leg was so pale it looked like paper, but the inch at the bottom of my leg was bright red and covered in uncomfortable scabs. I reached out and picked at it. A sharp jolt of pain shot through my small stump as small balls of blood rose to the surface of my skin. I seethed loudly and gripped the rough skin as tightly as I could in my hand, only resulting in more blood spilling out. And I could see why. Instead of accidentally tearing a scab open, I had ripped open ten whole stitches. I threw both of my hands away, my heart pulsating through my chest. It didn't hurt that badly. It was more of the blood that really scared me. Shakily, I pressed down my thick, white bed sheets of the bleeding area in an poor attempt to stop it from doing so.