Rude Awakening
CHAPTER ONE.
Okay, okay. I know I still haven't finished my other story (Not a Nothing) yet and I know I really should do that first. Don't worry. I'm not abandoning it; I can't since this one is kind of connected to it. (I suggest reading it first) It's just…well, this idea came to mind and once it did, I couldn't stop writing…I'd like to know what you guys think? I promise my next update will be of Not a Nothing, I haven't forgotten about it.
By now you know the drill. No I don't own it. Yeah I wish I did.
That was the last straw. How could her mom go that far? She shook her head and wiped her bloodshot eyes with the back of her bare hand. It was a cloudy fall morning with temperatures below zero and there she was, running down the street and away from the horrible scene replaying in her head. Destination: unknown.
The delusions had past the line of no return. The warm, loving person she had grown up calling mommy had morphed into a murderer, changed beyond recognition. In the basement she stood, cleaver in hand…blood, everywhere…dripping off the end of the weapon that had been used to take her father's life… It was like in a movie or a really bad dream but inexplicably worse. All her life she had tried to keep everything in line for this defunct family and now it was unravelling in her hands. Every day she stretched the truth in her head to make things seem somewhat okay but she wasn't sure if she'd be able to let this one go.
She ran and ran with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Running away from that gory image imprinted in her mind, running…running…just like her dad had been running away from his responsibilities as a family man ever since she was born. She knew that wasn't reason enough to kill him. Now he would never run again. Her bare feet made a slapping noise against the chilly cement sidewalk. It was the noise of someone slapping her, trying to knock some sense into her. Running away wouldn't fix anything and she knew it. She had wanted to many times before but she resisted…for the sake of her two little sisters…well this will certainly be a rude awakening for them…probably worse than it had been for her. Slap, slap, slap. A rude awakening and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to sleep again. No matter. No time to feel guilty about leaving. She ignored the slapping sound of her feet; she couldn't slow down to make it stop. She needed to keep going. Destination: anywhere, someplace warm.
But where could she stop? What kind of Torontonian in their right mind would let a scruffy haired teenager with morning breath, wearing Laurier uniform top and a pyjama pants into their home this early in the morning? Sure it was the school where all the rich kids went but they didn't have the greatest reputation. She barely knew anyone in the neighbourhood; everyone knew crazy people lived at her place: 6006 Slovester Drive. What they didn't know was that there was one sane person behind those walls: her. Well, before she felt that way. That she was the only person in her family who didn't have some kind of un-diagnosed OCD or saw people following her or thought that everyone was out to get her. But now it was leeching into her brain, contaminating her thoughts and she couldn't help looking over her shoulder at the licence plates of cars that slowed down to stare. She was on a busier street now and would be easier for someone to follow her, hide in the morning rush hour traffic. What if?
She began to sprint, but it was short lived, lungs bursting she collapsed into the shallow ditch. She rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the sky. To the east, the sun was rising, its rays piercing through the clouds like light shining down from heaven. How ironic. Everything was going to go downhill from here, she thought. There's no rest for those on the run…she guessed. Her stomach growled angrily and she thought to herself: Destination: some place with food.
Half an hour earlier…
The team had been on night shift. A gas station robbery had taken place but the containment had been almost instantaneous. It was quiet when they got back to headquarters at 5:30 AM but when they walked in, the halls filled with the boisterous chatter, like when kids come back in from recess. Passing by Winnie's desk, Spike heard her call out, "Had one double-double too many, eh?" He paused from his hysterical laughter to reply, "Nawww, maybe an extra, uhh, five…plus a doughnut!" He hadn't said anything particularly funny, but off he went again. You couldn't help but smile. His laugh was infectious and he had everyone awake and chuckling. But there was one team member who seemed totally out of it.
Wordy trailed behind the rest of them. It was his first day back after the three days of leave he had taken after the last call due to Allie being sick with an ear infection. His wife needed help since all three girls were home for the March break. His head in the clouds while his feet were on the ground trying to keep him down; he could hear the sounds of his team members talking but it was like they were talking underwater. Everything was muffled and all his thoughts were clouded with worry. The family, the mortgage, the job, his health…he was transported back in time to the last call. The night before, Allie had been up crying all night because of the pain in her ear. And just as things had started to look up, the previous week, he had gotten decent amounts of sleep. His little girl was growing up but she was still, well, little. And then he dropped the stupid cursed infra-red screen… He thought about how much worse it could get, that sick feeling in his stomach wouldn't go away. It stayed and weighed him down, forcing him to think about the future. A future where he wouldn't be able to care for his family, pay his mortgage or do his job. What if the-he couldn't bear to think the word-tremors…got worse? Next, he might pull the trigger of his gun without meaning to or lose control of his car…and then he wouldn't be able to hold his girls without-he shuddered-dropping them or something. Bye-bye independence but that was the least of his worries…
Greg brought him back to the present, last one from the van, and tapped him on the shoulder…
"Hey, you okay?"
"Uhh, yeah, everything's good." Wordy plastered on the best smile he could muster, he wasn't in the mood for talking at the moment, even though he knew Greg meant well.
"Oh, really…" Greg said skeptically, "Well, I'm not so sure. You wanna talk?"
"Really, I'm fine boss. Just can't wait to get home. Have a good night-err, day's sleep." At this, he yawned.
"Been a tiring first night back, eh? I didn't think it was that bad, hmm? Everyone went home safe." Greg remarked. He wasn't going to let his best entry man rest easy until he spit out the truth. And Wordy knew it. He wasn't up to this game of evasion, but then, saved by the bell, just like being a kid again…
"Team one, suit up; hot call! A girl identifying herself as Lexi Dallie says she awoke to her little sister crying. Says she couldn't find her mother and that there was an unfamiliar vehicle in the driveway. She went to check the basement and found bloody footsteps all over the stairs." Winnie took a breath to continue but Greg stopped her.
"Thanks Winnie, feed us the rest on the fly."
She nodded, then shook her head in apology to the team who remerged from the locker room in full tactical gear.
"Sorry guys, the other teams are either off duty or held up." She could see they were longing to go home, especially Wordy.
"Guess I wasn't exactly saved by the bell…"he thought to himself as he headed back the way they had come. As he opened the door to the garage, he heard Spike's voice boom, "Awww, that's alright Winnie, just make sure there are coffees waiting for our return!" The door swung closed, muffling out the laughter. How'd he always stay so positive?
She lay there staring at the light for quite a while, trying to sort things out. She hoped no one would pass by and see her, yet at the same time she did. Someone who would care enough to help her up, dust her off and ask her if she needed help. But who would bother. "These days, nobody cares…" she muttered. She was jarred from her thoughts by an alarm going off, the piercing beep! beep! beep! that reminded her to check her glucose levels. She had type two diabetes and she constantly had to perform the daily ritual of pricking her finger. She hated it, any kind of needles for that matter. But she was slowly getting used to it, she had to. And then it struck her; how was she going to check it without her test kit? And even worse, how could she refill her insulin pump without her bag containing all the things her life depended on? How long could she last with what was left right now? She was supposed to fill it every other day around lunch time so that meant…
"Oh shiiit." she whispered. Having only been diagnosed a month ago she was new to this whole thing but she remembered the doctor's warning clear as a bell…
"Always keep extra batteries, extra insulin vials, an extra infusion set and a couple of empty syringes just in case. Worse-case scenario you could end up with DKA, but that would take 24 hours to start taking effect so I wouldn't worry about it, don't let this take over your life…"
First reaction: what in the world is DKA…
Second reaction: fear. Uhh, did she really want to die today? Smart one, to forget to refill the pump yesterday…not her fault…things had been quite crazy…
Third reaction: well, one thing's for sure, no way she was going back home…
She jolted upright realizing she was wasting precious time here. No looking back, just moving forward: Destination: …
Sorry most of this is in italics, hope it wasn't hard to read or anything…
I am not diabetic, all that stuff was off the internet and it might be inaccurate, feel free to correct me. Anytime.
I'm working on Not a Nothing right at this very moment so keep your socks on. Next update, I'm sorry to say, maybe…at the very latest, the end of Easter weekend. I know I'm horrible. Oh well, you're just going to have to wait to see what happens next in both of my stories…