8: Hospital


Previously:

Deirdre rushed into the room and knelt by Lucy's side, while Alfendi stood back, shocked at how lifeless she had become.

He walked over to his sister, kneeling by her and wrapping his arms around her as she leaned into his shoulder, trying not to cry, her arms wrapped around his neck. After a few minutes she quickly fell asleep leaning on Alfendi, exhausted from the day.

Alfendi took Lucy's hand in his own, feeling how cold it had become.

He knew only a miracle would save her.


They visited the hospital during every visiting hour, hoping every day she would be awake to greet them, she never was.

She laid unconscious for a month and a half. Every day, there were ten visiting hours. The Laytons came during every one, every day a bit more sleep deprived, and after three weeks, always slightly more hopeless than the day before, so worried they hardly ate anything either, starving themselves unconsciously.

After four weeks, the siblings were told that she would be removed from life support soon, most likely during that week, because they needed the machines for other patients.

The siblings immediately reacted, both of them angry and upset.

"You can't!"

"We can't afford to lose her, she's one of the best investigators at Scotland Yard!"

When they had finished yelling at the doctor, who had stood patiently the entire time, the doctor responded calmly. "We'll keep her on it until next Saturday, seven days from now. She wasn't very stable to begin with, and had lost a lot of blood, so if she's not recovered by then, she won't recover at all."

Then the doctor left, leaving Alfendi and Deirdre alone in the room, Lucy laying in the bed behind them, just as unconscious as she was a month before.

For the next seven days, Alfendi and Deirdre returned, just as they had before, but clearly more sleep deprived each time, spending all of their time trying to figure out how to wake up Lucy or get the doctors to postpone the removal of the machines, or just laying awake at night worrying about her.

On the seventh day, the two returned, not having slept at all the night before, and they started doing whatever to get Lucy to wake: yelling, shaking her, pleading with her, anything.

After an hour, she coughed lightly, and Alfendi and Deirdre hoped and hoped she was awake, but she wasn't. They had no idea what to do, and after a few more hours, she was coughing again, but still unconscious.

After two more hours, a doctor came in to tell them they had one hour before she was removed from life support. They glanced at the clock to see after an hour it would be six thirty, a half hour before they would be forced to leave.

When the doctor returned again after that hour, Deirdre immediately ran up to him at the door and, smiling, said, "She's awake now, so it's all okay."

"Then removing her from life support will do nothing to harm her," he replied.

He tried to walk past her, but Deirdre stood in his way at the door, and answered, "Yes, but she's still not very well, so I think you should keep her on it another day."

"And who are you to determine that?"

"I-I have a medical degree, so I think I can say that she should stay on it another day."

"A medical degree? From where?"

Deirdre hesitated, before dismissively answering, "London, one of the smaller universities. You've probably not heard of it."

"I think I may have, which university?"

"It's, um, oh damn, I forgot what it's called. I'm totally blanking right now," she answered, slightly laughing out of nervousness, and it became clear she was shaking uncontrollably.

"Let me through to see the patient."

"No thank you," she replied, not letting her smile falter, yet refusing to let him see her.

"Do I have to call security?"

She hummed, looking up and slightly rocking her head sideways, thinking, "Mmmmmmmm," before looking back at the doctor, saying, "probably. You should go and do that, and leave me here. I won't be going anywhere."

"But luckily for you, I don't have to leave to do that." He took a walkie-talkie from his pocket and as he was about to speak into it, Deirdre snatched it from his hand.

"Now you do," she cut in, smiling innocently.

"Give that back!"

"Losing your composure already?" she fake pouted before switching to an evil smirk, tightly gripping the device in her hands. "You can't tell me what to do."

Then he yelled, "SECURITY!" and soon they heard faint footsteps slowly getting louder.

The doctor and Deirdre both glared each other down until the security officers arrived. As the doctor turned to face them, Deirdre changed her expression to one of sadness and fear.

"What's the problem?"

"This girl won't let me through to see the patient and now has stolen my walkie-talkie."

"He's lying!" Deirdre screamed immediately, spending most of the little energy she had left, shoving the walkie-talkie back at the doctor as if it were burning her, though he didn't take it. "I didn't do anything!"

"And why would he do that?" the officer asked.

"B-because...I don't know!" she cried, tears welling up in her eyes as she dug her nails into her right wrist through the glove, easily concealed with the walkie-talkie in her hand, her shaking contributing to the crying effect. "H-he just hates me!"

"She's lying! She wouldn't let me through to see the patient because I'm supposed to remove her from the life support."

"Is this true?" the officer asked, turning to Deirdre.

She barely hesitated before shakily answering, "N-no!" and immediately knowing how unconvincing the protest was.

"Are you sure?"

"I-I...it's true." She didn't have enough energy to continue arguing, at this point she felt as though she could collapse at any moment, and she hung her head, sniffling, but when the officer grabbed her wrists to restrain her, catching her by surprise, she screamed, pain shooting through her arm. "Stop! It hurts, please stop!" she screamed, heavy breaths between her words, as if she couldn't get enough air in her lungs, trying to pull her arms out of the officer's tight grip, her vision blurring from tears and pain, struggling to stay on her feet, her boots sliding on the linoleum floors as her knees began to give way.

"Nice try," he said, thinking it was another act.

"Pleeaase, it hurts, it really really hurts!" she begged, slipping to the ground, only held by the security guard's grip on her wrists, adding to the pain.

"I don't think this is an act," the doctor said. "Let go of her."

The security officer released her wrists and immediately she fell to the ground, rubbing her wrists and sniffling before pressing her hands to her forehead, a headache forming.

"Let me see your wrists," the doctor requested, kneeling down by her as she immediately shook her head.

"I-I'm fine," she said, shakily standing up, the doctor following.

"No you're not, you were screaming and crying."

"Oh...that," she began, pretending she knew what he was talking about.

"Yes. Let me see your wrists."

"I'm fine, th-there's nothing wrong with my wrists."

"You're rubbing them still."

"Because it hurt when he was restraining me!" she immediately snapped.

"Is that why you were screaming and crying?"

"Y-yes! Because it hurt!"

"Why are you wearing those gloves?"

"What does it matter?!"

"I was just asking because they perfectly cover your wrists."

"So?!"

"So is there something wrong with your wrists?"

"No!"

"Alright then. Then you will be restrained again while I take care of the patient."

The security guard held her wrists again, and she began screaming immediately, sinking to the ground, once again held up by her wrists.

"Please make him stop, it hurts really bad, please!"

The doctor didn't flinch or move, only asking, "So there's nothing wrong with your wrists?"

"There is, and it hurts r-really really badly!"

"Release her."

Again, she fell and began rubbing her wrists again.

"What's wrong with your wrists?"

She looked up, answering, "I already told you, nothing!"

"And you just told me there is something."

She wasn't sure whether to believe him or not, but she didn't want him to find out anything else. "Fine! But it's my business!"

"Clearly it's something major."

"No!"

"Yes, you were screaming and crying when he barely put any pressure on your wrists."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do. Let me see your wrists."

"No."

"I just want to look at them."

She shook her head, her head throbbing for multiple reasons.

"Why not?"

She stood up, ignoring the slight dizziness and the feeling that she could collapse, trying to find energy to stay standing, though she couldn't keep from shaking. "Because it's my business and I can deal with it myself, I don't need some doctor to look at them and think I'm crazy, I'm fine!"

"I won't think you're crazy," he replied, and she realized she had let something else slip.

"Yes you will, o-once you see what's happened." She turned to walk away, but the doctor caught her arm.

"Just let me see your wrists."

"There's nothing wrong, I'm perfectly capable of dealing with it myself, just let go of me!" she shouted, yanking her arm away and holding her wrists close to her torso, draining herself of energy.

She began walking through the room unsteadily, and the doctor followed her inside, but immediately went to remove Lucy from life support, no protests from the teenager who went straight to leaning against her brother, almost collapsing to the floor, still shaking uncontrollably, and the Laytons watched to see what happened, afraid Lucy would die. As he did so, the heart rate monitor continued to beep, unaffected by what he had done. Surprised, he felt the girl's pulse at her neck, unable to avoid the bruises and she whined, "Oww..." and she opened her eyes and asked, "Where am I?"

"In a hospital, in London. What's your name?"

"Lucy Baker."

"And your age?" he asked, taking a clipboard from the bedside table.

"Eighteen." Immediately the siblings were shocked, but silent. "'Ow long have I been here?" she asked, sitting up painfully, only now realizing the injuries she sustained, looking at the white bandages covering half of her skin.

"Five weeks. And your records say you're twenty-two."

Her eyes widened. "What?! No, I'm eighteen! Why would I be twenty-two?"

"You seem to be amnesiac, these records say you're twenty-two."

"But I'm not!"

Alfendi exclaimed, "Yes you are!"

Seeing him and Deirdre, Lucy inhaled sharply, and backed against the wall, the beeping of the heart rate monitor quickly speeding up along with her breathing.

The doctor noticed and asked, "What?"

"Th-those two...th-they did this to me..."


Yes, late once again...but I'll be posting around Christmastime, another chapter. Also-I have a backstory made up for Deirdre: crazy long, but written. I'm curious to see if any of you would be interested in reading it (although it probably wouldn't be posted for awhile, not till it's clear in this story the major part of it). I'll also have to double check if it's alright with the actual creator of the OC, queen . city . quinn on FF, seeing as it is their character.

~girlycathy~