Replying/I am an awful person

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SingingCupcake: I have updated!


"He was hit by a drunk driver ma'am."

"What?" Scene repeats, still horrified.

"He is being brought to the Saint Vincent Medical Center. You can drive to the hospital yourself or an officer could drive you there." The other voice, which Scene now figures to be a police officer, says.

"I'll drive there." Scene says quickly, grabs the keys to the her dad's old car she owns but never uses, and hurries to the hospital.

He won't come back. Scene could swear her mind was laughing. The rickety old car doesn't usually go above 20 miles an hour, but somehow, it's driving at 52.

Maybe something is looking out for me. She wonders, her grip like steel as she drives. Oh, if something is looking out for me, please look out for Intern 2. As she pulls to a stop at a red light, she realizes she may have just said her first prayer.

The hospital is large and confusing, but she does reach the reception desk.

"Hello ma'am, how may I help you?" The lady says.

"My..." Scene pauses, wondering what to call Intern 2. Her friend? Yeah, that will do.

"I'm sorry?" The nurse questions.

"My friend, he was in a car accident." Scene clarifies herself as a nurse walks up behind the desk.

"Melvin Munson?" The nurse asks. Scene nods quickly. "He's in surgery, but we'll be sure to let you know when he's out. Can I get your name?"

"Norma Haish." Scene says hurriedly. The nurse nods, writes it down, and brings Scene to a waiting room. Scene looks around. There's three people in the room. A man is tapping is foot as he reads a magazine. A lady is on her phone, texting someone Scene assumes, by the fact that she'll type something, stop looking at her phone, then it will go off quietly and the lady will return to it. Finally, there's a woman, not even a woman- a teenager, maybe fifteen, sitting with her knees close, running her fingers through her multicolored hair. She's clearly stressed and worried, and starts fiddling with her black bracelet nervously with one hand, while the other holds her ear-buds tightly in a ball. Her thick mascara is smudged, and Scene realizes she was probably crying earlier. A nurse walks out, looking regretful, and walks to the girl. She stands, anxious. The nurse says something apologetically, the girl puts her hand on her mouth, and starts crying. The nurse offers comfort, which the girl accepts, crying into the nurse's shoulder. Scene is too familiar with that picture to not know what's happened.

The man who is reading the magazine rolls his eyes and scoffs at the scene, and Scene barely hears him mumble; "Over dramatic teen." Scene curls her hands into fists, and tries not to attempt to beat the meanness out of him.

"Jerk." Scene murmurs, and the man looks up briefly, but returns to his magazine. I wish he heard me better. Scene thinks.

Scene waits anxiously for nearly two hours. The teenager leaves crying, but Scene knows what will happen to her, that she'll have quite the hole to dig herself out of. The magazine man leaves, thankfully, and other people come and go. All the while Scene is waiting for Intern 2 to come out alive.

Your parents died in a car crash. That girl's parents just died. Why on earth should God protect your precious Intern 2? Her pessimistic, yet convincing, mind whispers. Scene pushes the thought away, and just in due time. The nurse from before, the one at the desk, walks over to her.

"Is he alright?" Scene jumps out of her chair. The nurse takes a heavy breath. Oh no. Scene knows that breath. The one people take before they have bad news, or news they don't want to tell you. The nurse at the old hospital, when she was seven. That said her parents were dead.

Nerdcore, when he was promoted. Her mind hisses, all these thoughts in the split second after the breath but before the nurse speaks.

"Well,"

"Just spit it out!" Scene cries, not noticing that the nurse had started to talk, and several people look at her.

"He's in stable condition, and he came out of surgery alive, but he may take some time to get back on his feet." The nurse says.

"Take me to him, please!" Scene begs. The nurse nods, and starts walking. Scene follows, and the two minutes it takes to get to his room are painfully long, even after two hours of waiting.

"He's in here, ma'am." The nurse says. Scene walks in the room that says 409 on it. Intern 2 is being given another blanket by a nurse. One leg is in a cast, but Scene can't see his torso. He has a thin tube connected to his nose, and his eyes are shut.

"W-what's that?" Scene asks.

"It's just oxygen, to help him breath." The nurse says before leaving.

"Wait-" Scene turns to ask the nurse more questions, but she's gone. "B-but is he gonna be okay?"

"I'm fine, Scene." Intern 2 says softly. When Scene turns around, she realizes it wasn't softly. It was weakly. She rushes to his side, brushing a string of hair out of his face.

"Oh no, Intern 2." She says. "What happened?"

"Drunk driver." He says, eyes not fully open. "I'm alright now. What time is it?" Scene looks at her phone. It's almost midnight. When she tells him, he says; "I'll be alright for tonight. Go home, and I'll see you in the morning."

"No!" Scene says. "I'm not leaving your side!"

"Okay, okay, Scene." Intern 2 says. Scene pulls the chair in the room next to his bed, and he takes one of her hands in his. "Just curious. What's my room number?"

"409." Scene answers quietly. Intern 2 smiles.

"One of my favorite cleaning...products...*" He takes a big yawn, then winces. A nurse walks in.

"Miss Haish, I'm sorry but Melvin needs his rest." She says. Scene nods, kisses Intern 2's forehead, to which he smiles, and then she heads home.


*409 is a cleaning product in the US, but I'm not sure if it's in other countries.