I wake up. This is not the jail.. this is a hospital.. I look at my hands and see no bandages.. no bandages? yep.. no bandages..

less wounds then I saw last.. My fingertips are okay.. there are cuts but it's not too deep..

My handpalm is way worse.. just way worse.. 

I look up and see a worried face looking at me. It's Paul.

"Where is the jail?" I ask him with a croaky voice. croakier then usual.. and it hurts more then usually.. it's not just the drinking voice I'm known with..

I carefully feel on my throat and notice there is a wound.

"You're not in jail John. You're in the hospital." Paul says carefully. He brings his hand to my hand that is resting on my throat. He takes it away there. "It will be okay." He says. "I know I haven't been there when you really needed me.. When I had to protect you and your family.. But I wasn't. You are less to blame then me. Something is just wrong up there." Paul speeches caring. He carefully points to my head, in the hope that I would understand. Of course I understand this.. But.. But he has always been there when I needed him. '

"You always helped me.." I cough and there appears blood in my mouth.

"sssh.. don't speak." Paul says calmly. He cleans my mouth.

His eyes look at mine, it calms me down. The way he treats me, helps me.. 

Paul doesn't judge me.. he is my friend.