Amnesia and Star Child

“Mike? Shinnizle are you okay?” Brad went to take a step in, then hesitated.
Mike barely even moved, then there was a faint nod.
“Bullshit.” Brad muttered, walking in.
Mike didn’t move.
“Hey man... Fuck! Hell Mike - ow!” Brad snapped his hand out of the water - the blistering rain that was pouring down on Mike.
He wiped his hand off on his shirt and looked worriedly down at Mike’s miserable form - he was still crying silently, the only give away was his quivering shoulders.
The emcee’s skin was red.
“Dude what the hell are you doing to yourself?” Brad questioned - more to himself.
He bit his lip and quickly whipped his arm in, spinning the hot water faucet off and turning on the cold.
Brad had never been fond of showers or baths - or bathing in general - water wasn’t his thing and so inevitably, washing wasn’t either.
But all thoughts of his dislike of water were shoved aside as he settled himself down next to the rapper whose skin was mottled from the burning.
“Mike what hell is wrong?” Brad asked.
“Nothing matters.” Mike muttered into his chest.
“C’mon man it’s not that bad...” His response was instantaneous.
Brad had always thought people who said that were just being pessimistic - but coming out of someone who was usually bright and happy - no, there was something wrong here.
Mike had been going down hill since Paris.
“It’s all pointless. Everything is worth nothing.” Mike choked softly, barely raising his head.
“Hey Shinnizle, c’mon, that’s not the way to feel...” Brad put his arm around Mike’s shoulders.
But then again, who was to say it wasn’t the way to feel? And how was saying that supposed to help Mike feel better?
Mike shook his head.
“He’s hurting Rob and killing me. He’s lying to us all and it’s all my fault.” The emcee whispered.
He looked up at Brad, his eyes shining with tears that were almost indistinguishable from those of the shower.
“I’m a bastard. It’s all lies - I’m worth nothing.” He choked.
“Dude...” Brad trailed off, at a complete loss as to what he could say to comfort him.
“Sin should be punished. Even if living is punishment enough.” Mike looked down at his mangled hand rested in his lap.
“Fuck Mike - did you do that on purpose?!” Brad gasped in shock.
Mike lowered his gaze.
“Mike... What is going on in your head? What the fuck happened to you?” Brad’s forehead furrowed with increasing concern.
“I deserved it.” Mike whispered.
“Hell Mike... Nothing could be that bad...” Brad soothed as best as he knew how.
He wrapped his arms around Mike and hugged him.
Chester, Phoenix and Joe peeked in, all of them looking surprised and worried as they looked on at the spectacle before them.
Brad mouthed for them to come in.
Chester took a step into the room, followed by Joe, and then Phoenix.
They stood around, uncertain of what to do.
“We’re gonna get to Berlin tomorrow. Swear to me you’re not going to do anything stupid before then.” Brad pleaded, shaking Mike’s shoulders gently.
Mike sniffed and nodded slightly.
“C’mon. We’re gonna have to do something about that.” Brad nodded to Mike’s smashed hand and helped Mike up to his feet.
Mike kept his head bowed, refusing to look up and face the worried gazes of those around him; he was still sobbing, silent tears traced their way down his cheeks, his shoulders still quivered.
Brad sat him down at the table and Phoenix fetched the medical kit.
“Hell, I don’t know where to start...” Brad shook his head.
Mike’s wrist was broken, three of his knuckles were smashed, his little finger was broken and his middle finger was broken in two places, and to top it all off, his thumb was utterly shattered.
Brad sighed and gently bandaged up Mike’s hand in a fist as best he could while Phoenix and Chester kept him looking away.
Phoenix gave Mike some pain killers and then some Valium.
Mike took the tablets without argument, he barely flinched when bones shifted and crunched in his hand, nor did he react when the others talked to him.
“C’mon Mike, here. Get some sleep or something. It’ll do you good.” Brad said, having led him to his own bunk.
Mike was still wearing his sodden clothes.
“Go on. Sleep will make things better.” Brad insisted gently.
Mike sighed weakly, sitting and then slumping until he was lying down.
Gradually the Valium took effect and finally Mike fell asleep.
“Why did you get him to sleep there?” Joe asked. “You’re bed’s gonna be sodden like someone pissed in it now.”
Brad shrugged.
“I don’t give a shit. I’ll get over it - and besides, Mike couldn’t climb up the ladder with his hand the way it is for a start, and I’m not exactly dry either.” Brad replied.
“Fair point.” Joe nodded and headed back to the den, only hesitating when Rob gave a grunt/snore in his sleep and rolled over.
He turned back and looked at Brad.
“He’s getting worse than you.” Joe smirked.
Brad gave him the finger.