Hi everyone! Here is chapter two. I have an idea of where I'm going with this, and I hope it turns out for the best! Please review and let me know what you think! If you do that please be nice. :)
Enter name
You wait for the player to give you some dumb name. You half expect them not to. Always expect the unexpected.
Dirk Strider
See? You expected that.
Your name is Dirk Strider, and today is your little bro's first day of high school. He's the kind of kid who doesn't show his emotions much. It takes a close bond to be able to tell what's going on through that head of his, and you have that bond. It was obvious he was feeling nervous about his first encounter with his new school and future friends. You understand it can be a little intimidating, and you want to be there for him.
You suggest you go down to the lobby with him. He obviously needs brotherly support. Since you are his only brother, that means the task is up to you. To get rid of the tension, you bring up Dave's 'stairs incident' from when he was in the fourth grade. You don't know why you said that. That was a terrifying time for the both of you.
You walk behind him down the numerous flights of stairs. Living on the top floor is definitely worth the amount of exercise.
Suddenly, something yellow and squishy catches your eye. You lower your pointed anime shades just a little to get a better look at it. Is that… a plushrump? Your kokoro goes doki doki. How could you have been so careless to leave one of your precious smuppets on the stairs where it could be harmed?
A red shoe comes down upon the yellow rump at an odd angle. Your little bro obviously didn't see it there, so you swallow your anger. It's impossible to hold a grudge against someone you've known for years.
A body somersaults backwards down the stairs and a startled yelp fills your ears. Your kokoro doki doki-ing rapidly increases. You nearly have a heart attack as your little brother tumbles helplessly down the stairs. He curses loudly, and you chase after him.
"It keeps happening!" The younger Strider groans just before his head smacks against the hard floor at the bottom. His body goes limp. You shout his name and are by his side faster than any flashstep you've ever done. You cautiously move his body to an upright position and fix his crooked glasses. Your brain hardly comprehends the small crack in the right lense.
"Lil' man, can you hear me?" You say to him. You nearly have a heart attack when he doesn't respond.
"Dave, come on, say something!" You don't care who hears the panic in your voice. You don't care who sees you lose your cool. The only thing you care about is trying to stop the blood flow from your brother's forehead. A small pool has already formed on the floor, and the red is soaking through your denim jeans.
You don't care about that, though. You instantly remove your shirt and make a temporary bandage for Dave's head. You fumble through your pockets for your cell phone, but realize you left it upstairs. Crap.
The few people in the small lobby stare at you blankly. This infuriates you.
"Don't just stand there! Someone call an ambulance!" You scream. Nobody acts immediately and you panic even more. You shift your shirt so that a cleaner part of it rests against your brother's head.
"Hang in there lil' man." You mutter. You can't believe this happened again, and this time it's your fault. If that smuppet hadn't been on the stairs this never would have occurred. Oh God you think it's worse than last time. Last time he had stopped bleeding on the way to the hospital. You were able to drive him then. It wasn't as much of an emergency then as it is now.
He kept going unconscious and had to stay in the hospital for a night so the doctors could make sure nothing serious happened. Luckily he was okay. You warned him about stairs. One of your best friends fell down some stairs years ago. Who knows where he is now. English…
The sound of ambulance sirens penetrates your thoughts of the past, thank goodness. The medics rush in and dart to where you kneel in a slowly growing blood puddle. You remind yourself that head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but the adrenaline still pumps through your veins.
You allow them to take your unconscious sibling away from you and onto a stretcher. One of them speaks to you, but you don't hear her. Your mind feels like a broken TV cable connection; full of static. You keep your gaze on the two medics carrying your brother away. You stand up to go after him, but are stopped.
"We'll take him from here. Feel free to come to the hospital after you've cleaned up some, alright?" she puts her hand on your shoulder comfortingly. Normally you would have shrugged her off, but you let it go. The circumstances are different. You nod solemnly in reply.
"Would you mind telling your names for our medical records?" She asks. You should have expected that.
"Strider." You choke out.
"First names?" She questions.
"He's Dave. I'm Dirk."
"Thank you. We promise to take good care of your son." She walks back towards the vehicle.
"Brother." You call after her. "He's my brother." If she hears you, she doesn't respond.
You decide to do as she said and go back upstairs. You snatch the smuppet and take it with you so you can slash it with your katana later. As you slip an old white tshirt over your head, you realize Dave's backpack and apple juice are still at the bottom of the stairs. You'll bring his drink to him, if they'll let him have it. But not that one. You put on some sweatpants and toss the blood stained jeans onto the futon in the living room. Snatching a cold bottle of the juice from the back of the fridge hidden by sords. Why do you still have those? Only sbahj keep those things around. They're pretty much useless.
You flashstep down the stairs, taking extra care to not trip. You snatch Dave's backpack and throw the old bottle of apple juice away in the trashcan on your way out the door. Someone had cleaned up the blood, that part of the floor is now shinier and cleaner than the rest of it.
You toss your brothers backpack in the passenger seat of your red convertible. You have no idea why you brought it with you. It's only full of school supplies. Dave's bus is still in the parking lot due to the ambulance delay. You consider telling the bus driver he won't be coming to school today, but before you can do anything, the vehicle drives away. The few kids visible through the windows stare at you solemnly. They must have seen Dave as he was taken into the ambulance. Poor kids. Nobody at that age needs to witness that. Heck, nobody at your age needs to witness that. Especially if you're related to them.
Soon you arrive at the hospital. You go in through the emergency room entrance, assuming that's where Davey would be. You haven't called him Davey in forever. That stopped when he entered second grade. You stand in the short line behind a man with a little girl. The girl is crying and holding one of her arms close to her body. The line moves slowly and you grow impatient, constantly checking the clock on the wall above receptionist's desk every few seconds.
The people in front of you move to the front of the line. You hope they're quick. You need to know what happened to Dave, and you need to know now. You nearly jump out of your skin with anticipation. Five minutes later, you're at the front of the line.
"Name?" The stout woman asks you.
"Dirk Strider. I'm here to see my brother, Dave."
"Visitors go to the main office. Next," She shoos you away as if you were an annoying fly buzzing around her head.
"You don't understand, I need to see him."
"Visitors go to the main office." She repeats. "There are others waiting. Move along."
You reluctantly scoot to the side and dash across the building to the main office. Luckily, nobody else is in line. Relieved, you flashstep to the man at the desk.
"I'm here to see Strider comma Dave." You say quickly.
"I beg your pardon?" The man says with a British accent.
You repeat your sentence.
"I must check your authorization. I need your name and ID."
You put your hands into both of your sweatpants pockets. Inside are two quarters and a nickel, but that's all you find. You curse under your breath and look up at the man with an accent.
"I don't have my ID." you mutter, ashamed. How could you leave your wallet at the apartment? Sure, you were under a lot of pressure, but come on. You never forget your wallet in case something like this comes up.
"We need legal identification in order for you to visit our patients. I'm sorry." He says.
"Come on. He's my little brother. I need to make sure he's okay." You lean with your hands on the desk. Behind your shades your amber eyes are wide with worry. This is entirely your fault. If he gets better you're definitely going to do something really nice for him to apologize.
If. What is wrong with you, Dirk? He will get well. This is why you need to see him. You need to know how he's doing, what his condition is.
The receptionist looks at you in a sympathetic manner. Normally that would bug you, but again, this isn't normal.
"I will call to his room. What is his last name?" He says with that accent of his.
"Strider." You say thickly.
"Dave?"
"Yes." You clarify. You tap your fingers on the desk nervously while he punches the buttons and listens to the dial tone.
"Hello Dr. Patterson. There is a man here who claims the your patient is his brother, but he does not have identification with him at the time. Could we send one of the medics who was at the apartment with the patient here to see if this man is who he says he is? Thank you."
"How is he?" You ask immediately after he hangs up.
"I'm not authorized to ask unless you truly are who you say you are. I believe you, but we just need to make sure. Surely you understand, Mr. Strider, is it? I'm sorry for the delay." He smiles apologetically.
You sigh and take off your hat, running your hand through your spikey hair. You realize you left the apple juice in the car. What is it with you and being so forgetful lately? You vow to yourself to not forget anything else after this moment.
The white clad woman from the ambulance steps out of an opening elevator. You immediately recognize her. Her pale pink lipstick makes her lips pop from her dark skin. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, and she smiles softly. You're too distressed to smile, so you just nod at her.
"Monique, you recognize him?" The guy with the British accent asks.
"Yes, he's the loving brother of the patient who fell down the stairs." Her smile never leaves her face. You feel your face get hot from the compliment.
"How is he." You ask hoarsely before clearing your throat.
"It's nothing serious, just blood loss and possibly a concussion. We'll be able to tell more when he's conscious. I take it you want to see him?" Monique grins at you again and your kokoro explodes from your chest. Forget English; she's great.
You look at Mr. British Guy for permission, and he nods. You follow Monique to the elevator, the softness of your sweatpants sliding against your legs. God these are great. Why don't you wear them more often? Oh, right. They aren't very good during strifes. Sure, you still won that battle, but the pants dragged you down. You gotta stay alert, gotta stay limber.
The elevator takes you and Monique up to the fifth floor, which is two below the highest floor in the hospital. The doors open up to a rectangular mirror in a golden frame on the wall in front of you. Your hair is a mess, but somehow still looks awesome. You realize you didn't put your hat back on, but decide to leave it off out of respect for the people in the building, whatever that's supposed to mean. You can't see your eyes, but you still look pretty shaken up. Mostly because of those sweatpants of yours. You don't mind it because you are shaken up.
Monique smiles at you again and leads you down a hallway. She knocks on the door of room 413 upon entering.
"Dr. Patterson, this is Dirk Strider, Dave's brother." She says. The doctor turns away from Dave and holds out his hand. You shake it, and he grins at you.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, son. I'm Dr. Don Patterson. I hear Dave fell down some stairs? There must have been a lot of 'em to cause a wound like that. Did he slip on something?" He asks. You can tell he's trying to lighten the mood, but all he does is make it worse.
"Yeah. He slipped." You mumble, cringing inwardly at the memory of the yellow rump sticking out in the stairway.
"He's going to be okay." you say as if it were a fact. It is a fact. He's a Strider, and Striders always pull through.
"Yes, yes he is. You're more than welcome to stay here with him overnight. We don't know how long it will be, but he at least needs to be here a night so we can monitor him. You know how it is."
"Yeah, I understand." You pull your phone out of your pocket. Of course you remembered that, but not your ID.
"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to turn that off while you're in here. It could interfere with some of our equipment. You're more than welcome to use it in the waiting room, though." He smiles again, and you realize his front two teeth are large and crooked. Luckily for you and little Dave, neither of you needed braces. Score one for the Striders.
"I was just turning it off." You say as you do so. You try to glace over the doctor's shoulder at your brother, but the guy is too large for you to do so without looking like an idiot. Large as in big, not as in fat.
"By all means, have a seat." The guy finally moves and gestures toward a chair by the bed. Dave lies there, looking pained even in unconsciousness. His cracked glasses are on the small table to his left. An IV is stuck in his right arm, pumping blood into his system. You feel even more terrible. You swallow those feelings and move over to the chair, sitting down. What else did they expect you to do? Dance with it? Maybe later, but only for the irony.
You hear a voice come on over the intercom. "Dr. Patterson?" it says.
"Yes?" he responds.
"You are needed in the surgery unit."
"I'll be there in a second. Thank you, Mildred." The intercom shuts off.
"I will return momentarily. If anything happens, push that green button on the wall." He rushes out of the room. You didn't even know this hospital had a surgery unit. Then again, you are new in town.
You look over at your brother. He lies on his back with his arms directly at his sides. You aren't used to seeing him in bed without being curled up with the occasional pillow on your head. You smirk at the mental image. You reach over and brush his hair across his forehead. The ends on the right side are encrusted in blood. Poor little guy.
You remind yourself he isn't little anymore. He's in high school now. Or at least, that's where he'd be right now had it not been for stairs. Hey, at least you warned him. Yep, you told him…
You decide you'll wait until tonight before you go home and retrieve your wallet and maybe some other things essential to life. Like some comics for Dave when he wakes up.
That's when the idea hits. You realize it's risky, considering tomorrow is the second day of school. Then again, tomorrow is Friday. Hmm… Yeah, it's definitely worth it. When the doctor comes back you duck out of the room and speed walk into the waiting room. You have a few phone calls to make.
Notice the lack of cuss words in this story. Yeah, it's probably weird that I read Homestuck but I rarely cuss. I only have once or twice. Feel free to enter whatever word you want. Just pleeeaaaassseeee don't post what you substitute in the reviews! Ahhhh!
:o)