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"I only wear heels when I'm dancing. They're bad for your feet and your back, you know."

Parker chuckled -- well, a sputtering giggle was more like it. "They are also bad for shoulders," he said, closing his eyes and squinting at the memory. When that girl had raised her heel, he never thought for a moment that she was actually going to attack him with it. Were the jumper cables not enough? He had his a** beaten by a variety of weapons, punches, and throws, but the most painful of all was the shoe attack. What a story to tell. "Hey, Parker, how did you hurt your shoulder?" "Stiletto." The boys at Hillworth would have a field day; he had no intention of giving them that pleasure.

Though he didn't know it now, Parker would have to suffer with his shoulder pain longer than he would the broken arm. The purple-haired girl had dug deep enough to puncture muscle, and it would take longer to repair, especially since it was in such a widely moved area. Parker had several months of painful grimaces waiting ahead of him, but laying in the bed with Dani sitting beside him, he did not worry about it. He simply floated on the fluffy cloud of euphoria that morphine had created for him. It seemed a little extreme, perhaps, to use such a strong painkiller on a kid his age, but when Parker arrived at the hospital, he awoke -- not that he remembered it at all -- thrashing and screaming about the pain. With brusied and broken ribs and all the other injuries, it was a split second decision made by the doctor, and one that would keep Parker high as a kite for a bit longer. The ride down from that height would not be a pleasant one.

Once sober, Parker would no doubt want to get to the bottom of this attack. He would want to know who the Negaverse and Senshi were who came after him. The phenomenon had been intriguing to him before, but now, it was personal. He would find them out and bring their sins to light. He would make them suffer in the only way he knew how to: through the passive-aggressive magic of the internet. In his half-dazed state, Parker felt a calling to unmask these so-called "heroes" -- Senshi and Negaverse alike. He would find them. He would ruin them. It was an anger that bubbled up in him out of a dark place, a place that wanted the score to be settled, that wanted someone else to feel as weak and helpless as he did. Perhaps they would not be so terrifying if everyone knew their true identities. He did not voice any of this to Dani, eyes rolling back into his head in a lull of pain-free bliss.

When she mentioned prom, Parker turned his head to face her. "Prom is an... antiquated ritual designed to... force us all..." His words lost intensity the moment they left his mouth, mind unable to stay on track. Why was she asking anyway? "I'm not the dance type. And unless I have paid her, there is no six-foot tall... shoe-wearing... wait, what did you say about the date?" She had quipped something cute about who he might bring, but the words were muddled in Parker's head. He drew in a breath and moved on. "The last dance I went to was seventh grade Homecoming," he said, dropping one hand dramatically on the bed. "My date asked me on a dare." He was still living with his father then. It was before the arrest, but after his mother's death. Parker was happy she wasn't alive to see him crying after that stupid dance, a dance he didn't even want to go to in the first place. His father had insisted, and Parker knew now that he just wanted the kid out of the house so that he could do a drug deal. Typical.

Exhaling a bit too long, Parker rolled his eyes, cracking a self-deprecating grin. "I don't want to help anyone win a bet," he said, his laughter growing dark at the end. No matter how heavy the sedation, Parker's personality could not be fully masked, and it leaked out in flashes of pessimism and self-doubt. He glanced away from Dani, fingers rubbing the edge of the thin hospital sheet.

Prom had never been in the cards for Parker. He had never considered it as a viable option. On that night, he assumed he would simply shut up in his room and update his blog with scathing commentaries on the futility of forced socialization. Jaimie seemed to spend a lot of time with some girl from Meadowview. They didn't talk much, but Parker assumed he had a girlfriend. No doubt he'd be going to prom, which meant an empty room for Parker. That was a good thing... wasn't it?

Looking at Dani, Parker felt a prickle of feeling that it wasn't a good thing, like there might be a better alternative. His brain failed to connect the dots. Parker probably should have also connected the dots to realize that Dani was not old enough to attend prom too. In his mind, she was his age, but if she couldn't buy her own ticket, then she was a sophomore or a freshman. Again, he failed to make the connection. The pain killer cocktail swirling in his veins only allowed him the most basic critical thinking, and these were things that escaped him at that moment.

When Dani cursed, Parker smiled. He liked girls who used profanity. It went against societal norms for the appropriate behavior of women, which made Parker think those girls were some how above the bourgeoisie bullshit. "I'm sure someone will ask you. You're cute. Someone will ask you," Parker said, words slurring at the end. It never occurred to Parker that he could ask her. It didn't even register on his list of possible outcomes for the situation. "The only time I wore a suit..." he said, smiling, "was at my mother's funeral." He turned to face Dani, smile widening. It wasn't happiness; it wasn't deranged either. It was self-mocking, as if it was the funniest, most pathetic thing in the world. "And it was too big." He laughed then, remembering how his hands had been covered by the oversized jacket. His father had picked it up the night before from Goodwill, and in his stupor, he grabbed dark blue pants that were a size too small and a black jacket that was three sizes too big. Parker looked like an idiot, but he was too numb to care.

In the span of a handful of minutes, Parker had revealed almost everything that he held closely guarded. He did so without noticing, the information sliding easily out of him. It was hard to keep your guard up when you had to focus on just keeping your eyes open. When he came out of the morphine coma, Parker would hate himself for it. He would avoid Dani. He would do everything possible to convince her that it had all been a lie. But now, in the room, he could only smile, tracing the curves of her face with his eyes.

When her hand found his, Parker inched toward her, drawing her arm toward his chest. He didn't say anything about the nurse, or the heels. He concentrated on the feeling of her hand in his, and how warm her palm was, how much energy she radiated like a tiny star. How could one person contain so much positivity? How could one person make him feel this good? Even in a hospital room, even after a battle, Parker could only think about Dani, and how good he felt about her presence. He tried to bring his other arm down to cup her hand, but it was in a cast. The apparatus above him jangled again, but Parker kept smiling, holding Dani's hand to his chest and not wanting to let her go.

The stark hospital light created a glow around Dani's face, or maybe it was just the morphine. Parker's eyes were glassy with sleep, and his limbs trembled every so often when he attempted to move. The thick bandage under his hospital gown kept the thick white cotton that wrapped around his chest and shoulder hidden, but Parker could feel it there, tiny jabs of pain each time he moved. Those things that had attacked him, would they be this badly off?

It was unfair for them to have power over others, power that they didn't deserve. Right then, Parker wasn't sure what he could do, but he certainly planned to do something. When Dani spoke, he turned his head toward her, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. Very attractive. "You don't have to buy me anything," he said, still uncomfortable with the idea of being a charity case under the weight of the morphine.

Things were getting lighter now, as if another dose had gone into his bloodstream. With all the tubes sticking out of him, it was quite possible. He turned his head back to the ceiling, staring up at the stark whiteness of it all. Dani had come. But no one ever comes. But Dani had come. His mind couldn't rationalize it. Why did she care? He was a stranger. "Why did you come?" he said, breathless. It was not accusatory, almost sad. Disbelief rang in every syllable as if he couldn't fathom anyone caring enough to visit him in the hospital -- which was precisely the case.

Parker probably should have thanked her, but things like gratitude didn't come easily to a boy who had lived his whole life in quiet skepticism of the intentions of everyone around him. But he liked Dani. All her babbling calmed him down. She certainly wasn't as smart as him, he thought, but she wasn't stupid. She was smart too, even if she believed certain things that he found delusional. Besides, she was the kind of person who came to visit him in the hospital, and right then in that moment, that was all that mattered.

Turning his head to one side, Parker let his eyes close, thumb casually stroking the soft underside of her wrist. All of the talking had taken it out of him, and with a quiet sigh, he felt himself drift back into the fuzziness of his morphine coma. The pull of the drug was so strong, so sweet. It had taken his father, made him an addict -- could it take Parker too? The boy was too far gone to think about it now, but when he woke, it would be a thought that would keep him up at night.

He would hold Dani's hand until she removed it herself. And when he awoke to be discharged in an empty room, Parker would feel the pit of darkness that Dani's light had left in his chest.