As a note, this is my first Transformers fanfiction. I am no medical genius, so I did my best with this chapter. Also, thank you to Ratchet's Sparkling, sassykitkat and Skyress98 for adding this story to their favorites. This one is dedicated to you, awesome fans!
Colors.
So many colors; brown, green, violet, red, black, blue, purple and yellow. Many more in shades I couldn't pinpoint locked in a riot of movement; swirling, writhing, dancing and bursting all around me. Over me. Through me.
I couldn't look fast enough to capture them all, so much was going on at once-too many directions to turn.
My hair was blown back, but there was no wind-no air of any kind.
Okay. This is cool, but definitely weird.
The largest blotch of black I could see was rocketing right toward me, deeper and darker than anything I had ever seen in living memory.
What the hell? How is that thing even moving?! What did I smoke before bed?
It was closer now, and gaining speed? What?
Hey. Whoa, whoa, whoa! No!
I threw my hands over my face as it swallowed me, surrounding me in nothing but pitch black darkness.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Ugh. What the hell was with the fragging beeping? I mentally growled, since I couldn't physically without hurting myself.
Everything hurt. It felt like the Fallen had punt kicked me from here to Cybertron at least fifteen times.
I barely cracked my eyes open, or rather eye, seeing as my right eye was swollen shut. Ow, ow, double OW! I closed it again, it was too bright where I was.
By the super clean smell and the annoyingly frequent beeps, I'd hazard a guess that it was a hospital.
Fuzzy flashes of the bus and bleeding people strewn over a street crossed my brain. Shit. That really happened.
"Good to see you awake, Miss Raynes." A male voice spoke up near me.
I groaned in response. Too loud.
Nothing hurt in my weird, trippy dream and I wanted to go back to before I woke up in this Pit.
"You've been in an accident, Miss Raynes. I suggest you lie as still as possible, your right arm and leg are broken. There are three bruised ribs on your left side and you sustained damage to the right side of your face, mostly bruises." The doctor, I think his name tag said Morgan? Anyway, he turned the page of my chart, before turning kind eyes on me. He had wrinkles around them, brown eyes, and his red hair had streaks of grey through it. "However, your eye will most likely be swollen for some time. Your custom contact lense scraped against the eye and surgery was needed to repair a tear as well as remove the lense."
I blinked my good eye, suppressing the urge to wince when the action hurt. "H-how long will I have to stay in the hospital?"
My throat felt like someone shoved a gallon of sand down it and finished it off with a sand paper scrub. My voice sounded terrible, no wonder the doctor winced in sympathy.
"Your stay will be between two to three weeks, so we can keep a close observation on that eye and make sure it doesn't develope infection." He replied, setting the chart down. "Would you like some water? It might help your throat, if only a little."
"Yes, please." I answered, wishing I could get it myself.
He carefully placed a straw in the left corner of my mouth and patiently held the glass while I drank. I hated having to ask for help, and the fact that I needed it at all, but it wasn't his fault. He was kind enough to do it, instead of making me wait for a nurse to do it, like another hospital I went to years ago.
"Rest, I'll have a nurse check on you in a little while." With another kind smile, he left me to myself.
I drifted in and out in a fitful sleep, until a nurse came to administer another dose of Morphine, just before it wore off. Bless her!
I welcomed the peaceful darkness of sleep.
The next day
"Oh, Hon! Here, let me help you!" Damarys fussed with the pillows, bluffing them for the fifteenth time.
I sighed, rolling my good eye.
I couldn't snap at her, the five foot two blonde has been a gift from Primus.
She had faced her fear of flying to race to the hospital once she heard about the accident. Which was a big deal since she was only one of six survivors of a bad plane crash four years ago.
I had actually met her at a group therapy session just over three years ago.
We hit it off and have been friends ever since.
She dropped everything, come back from a vacation and imediately glued herself to my side to help me with anything I needed. She out done herself, blending home cooked meals and fruits so I could eat them through a straw. Bless the sassy southern firecracker.
"Thanks." I mumbled, still tired since my morphine wore off and woke me up at four a.m.
It was now six.
"The nurse told me that a police man is coming to talk to you today." She commented, straightening the edge of my blanket. "He came by yesterday, but the doctor wouldn't let him in. According to Doctor Morgan, you were dosed highly, and you wouldn't have been lucid enough to answer anything."
I groaned. I did not want to deal with this crap. I wanted to sleep.
Preferably for another few days.
"Now, I'll have none of that, missy. I know you don't feel well, but the nice man has waited to talk to you last. Patiently, I might add." She stood, her hands planted on her hips, silently daring me to argue.
To pit with that! That would take up energy I didn't have at the moment. I also knew better.
"Fine," I grumbled.
She nodded firmly, that was the end of that.
Not much later, a young man walked into the room. He couldn't have been older than twenty one, fresh out of the academy, I'd guess. He was about six foot one, had brown hair and hazel eyes.
"Miss Raynes, my name is Officer Jake Wyatt. I understand you were in the accident that occurred on Sunset Drive?" He began, hand poised over his notepad thingy
What the pit kind of question was that?! If he was here to talk to me, he should know that!
I glared as well as I could with one eye. "Yes."
"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked calmly, not bothered by my withering glare. "Any details you could give would be helpful."
"I don't really know what happened, exactly." I frowned, concentrating. "I had gotten on after a bit of shopping at uh Washington Avenue, I believe. We stopped at least once after to pick up a couple."
"What happened next?" He prompted gently.
I squeezed my good eye shut, thinking back.
"We-we stopped in the middle of the street."
"Why?" He asked eagerly, typing something on his data pad.
"I don't know. He just stopped without saying why or announcing anything. Some of us were trying to figure out what was going on, when it happened."
"The accident."
"Yes."
"Is there anything else you can remember?" Officer Wyatt questioned, hand poised to type. He turned his hazel eyes on me, watching my reactions.
"I remember the sounds, but I didn't see what hit us." I sighed. I couldn't do what he needed.
"What did the driver of the bus look like?"
"Um. . . He looked about thirty five, I suppose. Average height and build. Brown hair? Maybe. Uh, grey eyes, I think."
"Is 2613 your usual bus?"
"No. I usually walk, but I've rode the bus a few times. I don't think I've seen him before, though I'm not sure. I'm sorry."
"It isn't your fault. I'll leave you to your rest, thank you for your time."
I was frustrated, I should know these things! He needed the information to catch whoever ran the bus over. I hissed as I accidentally moved my arm, pulling at my bruised ribs painfully.
"Easy, Hon. You shouldn't move, doctors orders." Damarys reminded me, making me aware that I had forgotten she was in the room.
I immediately felt guilty for that. I grimaced.
"Are you hungry? I brought in some blended mashed potatoes and porksteak." She asked, getting a divided container out of her cooler.
I shot her a small smile. "Thanks, but I'm okay. Maybe later."
"Okay, just let me know."
I thought over everything that happened. Why was it that the first time I ride a bus in half a year, it got into a wreck? Did the universe hate me that much? I mean, a wreck, really? Out of all the buses in the city, what were the odds that it would be my bus?
I wished I was at home, watching Transformers Revenge of the Fallen, and never got on that fragging bus.