My Life Closed Twice
Chapter 15: Somebody's Going to Emergency
Disclaimer: General Hospital and all its characters belong to ABC, Disney, etc.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my faithful beta reader. Please read and review!
Michael's breathing was labored and the red stain was spreading on his shirt. I blinked my eyes in one last desperate hope that it would go away. It didn't.
Just one thought started running through my head.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
First I pulled my extra lightweight shirt from around my waist and pressed it over the center of the stain. Michael groaned.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
With one hand I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.
"911. What is your emergency?"
"My friend has been shot," I said the words very carefully.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"What is your location?"
"On the street near Kelly's." I said.
"Do you have an exact address?"
"No, I am new here." I could feel the words getting faster.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"OK, just stay calm. Is the victim conscious?"
"I don't think so." I said.
"Is the victim breathing?"
"He is gasping," the words were speeding up again.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"What is your name?"
"Kristina," I said. The shirt was nearly soaked through. I shoved the phone onto my shoulder and added my other hand to increase the pressure.
"What is the victim's name?"
"Michael Spenc.Corinthos." I said.
Just then I heard the sirens. I jerked my head up to see how far away they were and the phone smashed to the sidewalk. I could barley see the ambulance over the car. I waved one hand in the air to get their attention.
Suddenly I had nothing to do. One of the paramedics moved me back out of the way as they descended on Michael. All I could do was watch as they poked and prodded Michael.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
Suddenly they were rolling him away. I ran after them. "I'm coming with you." I told the man with his hand on the door. He reached down and hauled me into the back. I slid along the side seat until I was by Michael's head.
"You're going to be all right. You're going to be just fine. You are going to be the bane of my existence for a really long time." I told Michael. The ride was taking forever.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"We're almost there. You're going to be fine. I am going to have to teach you how to take care of yourself. You are going to have to get used to me bossing you around."
The ambulance stopped and someone flung open the back doors. They jerked Michael away from me, out of the ambulance, and then through the open doors of the hospital. I gave chase out the back of the ambulance, across the sidewalk, through the hospital doors, across the waiting room, and straight into the trauma-room.
Medical terms and orders were being thrown about as the emergency room personal worked. Everything in the room was beeping or clanking or talking. I watched as everyone ran around passing things to everyone else. They seemed to be checking Michael everywhere except where he was hurt.
He is shot. Don't you see the stain on his chest? You need to fix that hole. You need to stop the stain.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
Then a nurse noticed me standing there. "You are going to have to wait outside," he said as he led me outside the swinging door.
I stayed right where he left me. I watched through the window as the strange dance the medical professionals were doing continued over Michael. It was so quiet out here. Everything was muffled.
"Are you cold?" someone asked.
Its summer, why would you think I was cold? Oh, I am hugging myself. "No, I'm fine," I said.
"I'm Dr. Collins; you can call me Kevin. What's your name?" the voice tried again.
"Kristina," I said.
"Kristina, do you need someone to call your mother?"
Mom, why would anyone call Mom? I'm not hurt. Michael is hurt. I looked at the voice for the first time. He was a fairly tall middle-aged man wearing a hospital id badge. "Has someone called Michael's parents?" I asked.
"Yes, someone in admittance has. Do you need to call your parents?" he asked again.
Dad is dead. Mom can't see me here. "No," I told him.
Then the trauma-room doors burst open and they were taking Michael to the elevators. I started to follow him, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"They are taking him to surgery," Dr. Collins said.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"Why don't we find some clean clothes for you," Dr. Collins said.
He led me over to the nurses' station and asked for Karen. When a dark haired woman arrived he had a whispered conversation with her. She disappeared for just a minute and reappeared with a stack of sweats.
I reached out to accept the clothes and then stopped. My hands were red. Red was bad. Mom hates red. She never lets me wear red. I can't have red hands.
"I need to wash my hands," I told them.
"Of course, this is Dr. Karen Wexler. She is going to show you to bathroom so you can get cleaned up." Dr. Collins told me.
Dr. Wexler showed me a door right near the elevators. No one was in the bathroom. She put the clothes next to the sink. "Kevin and I will be right outside if you need anything," she said and then left me alone.
I started washing my hands. Rubbing the soap over my hands again and again. The water started running clear. I need more soap. I looked up and caught sight in the mirror of someone crying.
Is that me? When did I start crying? How did I get so pale? When did my ponytail fall? How did I get blood on my shirt? When did I get so small?
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
Chapter 15: Somebody's Going to Emergency
Disclaimer: General Hospital and all its characters belong to ABC, Disney, etc.
Author's Notes: Thanks to my faithful beta reader. Please read and review!
Michael's breathing was labored and the red stain was spreading on his shirt. I blinked my eyes in one last desperate hope that it would go away. It didn't.
Just one thought started running through my head.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
First I pulled my extra lightweight shirt from around my waist and pressed it over the center of the stain. Michael groaned.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
With one hand I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.
"911. What is your emergency?"
"My friend has been shot," I said the words very carefully.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"What is your location?"
"On the street near Kelly's." I said.
"Do you have an exact address?"
"No, I am new here." I could feel the words getting faster.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"OK, just stay calm. Is the victim conscious?"
"I don't think so." I said.
"Is the victim breathing?"
"He is gasping," the words were speeding up again.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"What is your name?"
"Kristina," I said. The shirt was nearly soaked through. I shoved the phone onto my shoulder and added my other hand to increase the pressure.
"What is the victim's name?"
"Michael Spenc.Corinthos." I said.
Just then I heard the sirens. I jerked my head up to see how far away they were and the phone smashed to the sidewalk. I could barley see the ambulance over the car. I waved one hand in the air to get their attention.
Suddenly I had nothing to do. One of the paramedics moved me back out of the way as they descended on Michael. All I could do was watch as they poked and prodded Michael.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
Suddenly they were rolling him away. I ran after them. "I'm coming with you." I told the man with his hand on the door. He reached down and hauled me into the back. I slid along the side seat until I was by Michael's head.
"You're going to be all right. You're going to be just fine. You are going to be the bane of my existence for a really long time." I told Michael. The ride was taking forever.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"We're almost there. You're going to be fine. I am going to have to teach you how to take care of yourself. You are going to have to get used to me bossing you around."
The ambulance stopped and someone flung open the back doors. They jerked Michael away from me, out of the ambulance, and then through the open doors of the hospital. I gave chase out the back of the ambulance, across the sidewalk, through the hospital doors, across the waiting room, and straight into the trauma-room.
Medical terms and orders were being thrown about as the emergency room personal worked. Everything in the room was beeping or clanking or talking. I watched as everyone ran around passing things to everyone else. They seemed to be checking Michael everywhere except where he was hurt.
He is shot. Don't you see the stain on his chest? You need to fix that hole. You need to stop the stain.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
Then a nurse noticed me standing there. "You are going to have to wait outside," he said as he led me outside the swinging door.
I stayed right where he left me. I watched through the window as the strange dance the medical professionals were doing continued over Michael. It was so quiet out here. Everything was muffled.
"Are you cold?" someone asked.
Its summer, why would you think I was cold? Oh, I am hugging myself. "No, I'm fine," I said.
"I'm Dr. Collins; you can call me Kevin. What's your name?" the voice tried again.
"Kristina," I said.
"Kristina, do you need someone to call your mother?"
Mom, why would anyone call Mom? I'm not hurt. Michael is hurt. I looked at the voice for the first time. He was a fairly tall middle-aged man wearing a hospital id badge. "Has someone called Michael's parents?" I asked.
"Yes, someone in admittance has. Do you need to call your parents?" he asked again.
Dad is dead. Mom can't see me here. "No," I told him.
Then the trauma-room doors burst open and they were taking Michael to the elevators. I started to follow him, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"They are taking him to surgery," Dr. Collins said.
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.
"Why don't we find some clean clothes for you," Dr. Collins said.
He led me over to the nurses' station and asked for Karen. When a dark haired woman arrived he had a whispered conversation with her. She disappeared for just a minute and reappeared with a stack of sweats.
I reached out to accept the clothes and then stopped. My hands were red. Red was bad. Mom hates red. She never lets me wear red. I can't have red hands.
"I need to wash my hands," I told them.
"Of course, this is Dr. Karen Wexler. She is going to show you to bathroom so you can get cleaned up." Dr. Collins told me.
Dr. Wexler showed me a door right near the elevators. No one was in the bathroom. She put the clothes next to the sink. "Kevin and I will be right outside if you need anything," she said and then left me alone.
I started washing my hands. Rubbing the soap over my hands again and again. The water started running clear. I need more soap. I looked up and caught sight in the mirror of someone crying.
Is that me? When did I start crying? How did I get so pale? When did my ponytail fall? How did I get blood on my shirt? When did I get so small?
I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control. I have to stay in control.