“Ugh…” Jack mumbles to himself as he begins to scratch at the gauze snugly wrapped around his wrists for the third time in the empty hallway. He knew he was only making it worse, how could he not, with the nurses or whoever in his room every ten minutes nagging him to not mess with his injuries? And they were his injuries! The only reason he was able to be out in the hall right now is because it was a little after two in the morning, and they never truly started lingering until five. The stupid doctors and nurses who kept shoving pills down his throat and needles into his arms and back didn't even care about him. They just cared what had happened to him on the stupid island, probably why he kept getting visited by all sorts of therapists, too. Someone had to had snitched by now. That he was a... a...

He blanks on the word. His thoughts did that sometimes now whenever he tried to remember stuff... Oh, murderer! That was the- wait-

No. No, no, no. Not murderer. He- he was defending himself, keeping everyone alive. He was chief! Everyone did it, too! They didn't even know if Simon was really dead, the waves could've just carried him off after he... fell. If anything Roger was a murderer by the "law", he pushed that rock onto the fatty and off Castle Rock and-

A sharp pain makes him wince loud enough to forget again as his eyes dart down to his left wrist, thin skin red with irritation exposed from the compulsive scratching, some of the bandages hanging loose on his forearm. With a groan, Jack leans against his room's door, hair falling in his face. Along with this, a sudden urge to reach up with his scarred hands and just tear it all out suddenly overcomes him, but even he isn't entirely sure why. It'd never been this long before, but then again, he was still just a little boy. It was what the one doctor with glasses like fatty's kept repeating, and just the recollections causes Jack to also taken over with the wish that the man would die, too. Or maybe not, he doesn't remember half of what he looked like besides the glasses.

Other than that, he didn't know what was so quick to bother him. Jack didn't know how to feel about anything anymore, really. It's the same reason it takes him a delayed moment to react when he sees the door of the neighboring room open and you poke your head out. He instead remains frozen, appearing both dumbfounded and dumb, with his undone gauze and hospital gown that was donned by his naturally thin but now malnourished appearing figure.