Thank you SO much for the lovely reviews you guys are leaving me, they're so kind! And it's almost Friday, so I thought we could have a bonus chapter on Fridays- sound good?! I would normally include another Jac section in this chapter, but I don't want to leave it on a cliffhanger overnight because that's really annoying for everybody. Anyway I've rambled enough, enjoy!
Connie
'Hi, I'm Connie Beauchamp. Can you tell me your name please?' she asked.
'Rihanna. What's going on?' her voice seemed weak and it was evident that it was a huge effort to keep her eyes open, let alone speak.
'Ok, Rihanna. What happened here?'
'Fell onto an old metal fence. Stupid really.' Rihanna began to close her eyes and panic filled Connie.
'No! No, I need you to stay with me, Rihanna. Wake up, please!'
She opened her eyes and they were filled with confusion.
'What's wrong?'
'Nothing. I...I just can't let anything happen to you,' she took a deep, steadying breath and continued, 'I've given you morphine and some antibiotics, but I really want to get you into theatre as soon as I can.'
'No, she's not going to theatre. Patch her up and that will be fine.'
Connie tried to protest, but with Jac still in the office, she didn't want to risk the mystery attacker hurting her any further.
'Mark? Mrs Beauchamp, what the hell is going on?'
'Shh shh, nothing, it's fine. Just focus on you, yeah?' She tried to reassure Rihanna, but it was pointless. Her shaking hands as she kept the pressure on the wound and trembling voice let her down. It had stopped bleeding now, allowing Connie to see the extent of the damage. The muscle had been torn, in addition to a small tear on the external iliac artery.
'We need to get you into theatre, ok Rihanna? If we don't, well, I can't stitch this without grafting the artery. You will bleed out and die within minutes. You need surgery,' Connie repeated.
'He won't let me. Just let me die, I don't want to go back to him.'
'I can't let you die. Do you have anywhere else to go?'
Rihanna winced as Connie lifted the swabs to check the wound again.
'No. I burned my bridges when I left my family for him. You have no idea what he's capable of- I've been on the wrong side of his temper. He can be so sweet at times, but then it's like something snaps inside him...and he does stupid things like this.'
'Why didn't he take you to A&E downstairs? They would have treated you down there, and you'd be in a much better condition than you are sat here on my floor,' Connie questioned.
'No idea. These past few weeks, it's like he's been possessed. Obsessed is a better word actually. All he does is sit at his computer, writing notes and looking at pictures he's had blown up.'
'Pictures of what?' Connie felt the wound begin to bleed again, and the woman on the ground gasped in pain. She grabbed Connie's arm and looked her in the eye.
'A woman with ginger hair, I think.' She closed her eyes, her head fell to rest on one shoulder. Connie checked her breathing, but she wasn't breathing at all.
'If she doesn't go to theatre right now, she is going to die. Rihanna isn't breathing, she could have gone into septic shock. SHE NEEDS SURGERY!' she shouted in the direction of the office. Then, she laid Rihanna down and began to do CPR. If the antibiotics didn't work, if the artery had been fully cut, if she had gone into septic shock... the chances of survival were decreasing significantly. Ordinarily, she'd have a 4/10 chance of surviving, but without proper care that she needed from the ED it looked less and less likely by the second.
'AND I SAID NO SURGERY!' Mark screamed from the office. Connie rolled her eyes and caught sight of a yellow and green box fixed to the wall. She grabbed the defibrillator and began to charge.
'Charging to 160,' she muttered to no one in particular, 'clear...shocking.' She felt for a pulse, knowing that there was nothing she could do if the wound was indeed septic. There was no pulse at her neck, so Connie tried again.
'Charging to 250,' she said again, 'clear...shocking.' It had no effect. 'Time of death 4.32.'
