Honestly, I wasn't going to post another chapter until Monday. However,
after receiving all those wonderful reviews from you guys, I felt it would
be unfair for me to make you wait, seeing as how you did exactly what I
asked. So, I got my ass in gear and started typing! I can't thank you
guys enough,. This is my first fic and with all the support I have
received, I think I may just write another when I'm done this one. It's
contagious!
Though I must credit the person who makes my work legible. Sarah (commonly known as Sarahlee), I couldn't do this without you, girl! Thanks for all your help, I owe you big time! Enjoy the Chapter :)
Joey
Disclaimer: I own nothing... is this a broken record?
-The Hours After-
I can hear footsteps getting closer and through my barely-opened eyes, I see Fred standing at the foot of my bed, arms fixed at his side, hands balled in fists, face flush red with anger.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Chapter 7
Oh shit, Fred. This is not good. I am not usually the level head in these sort of situations, but really, what is this going to accomplish? Before I can progress any further, he lunges at me.
For the first time since I was a little kid, I'm helpless. I can't move, let alone fight back. There seems to be no method to his attack - he just wants to hurt me. Doesn't he know that hurting me only decreases the chances that his wife won't go to prison? I know he's not thinking, he's just reacting.
I close my eyes as he lands a punch to my left temple. The blow jars my already vulnerable brain, making it sound like everything's underwater. I can hear both Fred and Davis yelling, but Fred's hit has sent me in such a downward spiral that, for the moment, I am unable to comprehend what's being said.
In the vicious struggle, Fred has yanked on the ventilator tube, causing it to shift in my throat. The movement causes such excruciating pain that my eyes shoot open and I hear myself utter a muffled cry. Instinctively, I roll over on my side to protect myself. Fred lands a couple more blows around my face and neck as Davis -I assume- is trying to pry him off.
"LET GO OF ME!" His arms are flailing, occasionally making contact with my skull. Each shot injects more pain, causing my stomach to turn and eyes to water profusely.
"FRED! FRED! BACK OFF!"
Yeah, that's Davis. Struggling with the crazed animal who is vehemently attacking me.
Fred lands one more hard blow to my abdomen, and I swear I'm going to vomit. My reflexes cause me to swallow but the action is quickly interrupted by the ventilator tube. I start choking violently on the intrusive plastic. I can't breathe. My lungs and stomach are fighting the tube with every last ounce of strength.
Davis is finally getting Fred under control, and as he is attempting to peel him off of me, Fred's knee jabs into my chest, causing me to struggle more forcefully for any little bit of oxygen.
"You need to CALM DOWN! Got it?!"
You tell him Davis.
"June! I want you to run and get Dr. Grander!"
The old doc is attempting to roll me over into my original position. He looks at me for a second before he does anything, appraising the damage.
Com'on, Doc. Do something. Help me! Can't you see I'm in trouble here? It feels like I have been without oxygen for an hour. I continue to gag and choke on the tube while the old man mocks me with his stare.
"What happened here?"
Doogie to the rescue.
"He was jumped by Mrs. Yokas' husband."
In my furious battle for air, I glance over to Davis. He has Fred cuffed, but is making no attempt to move him out of the room. I make eye contact with him briefly. He's breathing heavily and he still looks terrified. I close my eyes, breaking the contact after a second. I can't stand to see people look at me with such pity. I hate being this fragile and defenseless.
"We're going to have to extubate," Dr. Grander anxiously shouts. "Have an oxygen mask ready. We'll attempt to stabilize him. I'm going to need a laryngoscope with a 3 blade ready along with 120 of suxamethonium."
My chest and stomach are simultaneously heaving - straining to draw in oxygen. I hear a descending hiss as the failing ventilator is dissembled.
Dr. Grander is practically on top of me as he puts one hand behind my neck, lifting it slightly, and pulls the tube out with the other. The action causes me to cough violently. Each cough tears at my throat and I can taste blood seeping into my mouth. The taste is sickening and my stomach begins to convulse. The Doc manages to rotate me so I don't choke on the few contents that my stomach is discarding.
"What the hell? Where's all this blood coming from?"
The little guy sounds panicked for the first time since I've met him. For his age, he's actually fairly calm and confident.
The acid from the bile burns the open cuts in my throat, amplifying my pain level and making the struggle to regulate my breathing that much harder.
I feel someone place a mask over my mouth and nose. It's not helping. Can't they see I'm dying here? My body is jerking with each attempted breath. I can hear myself gasping which makes me wonder why they aren't doing anything about it.
Hands are pressing on my abdomen and then up my chest. I see Dr. Grander shake his head, "No edema in the abdominal cavity."
My vision is going spotty. God, I wish they'd just do something.anything.
"Give him the 120 of Sux. Let's intubate again, he's in respiratory failure." Dr. Grander attempts to keep me immobile while Nurse Carson is giving me the injection. Hurry - please hurry.
"Three blade."
Again he climbs on top of me, staring into my mouth with his little, lighted tool.
"I'm going to need some suction in here."
Nurse Carson shoves a smaller, vacuuming tool into my mouth and I notice the steady stream of red liquid flowing through the tube.
"I can't see the cords, his throat is practically swollen shut. How the hell did that happen?"
The doctor tosses the tool off to the side, "June, pass me a 2 blade instead. If you keep suctioning, I may be able to get an opening and slide it in there."
He fiddles with a new attachment and then jerks my head back to try again. Please, Doc, hurry. My gasping has died down and I'm slowly fading. The swimming sensation has returned. I'm almost detached, but not oblivious to the pain. I wonder if this is my punishment. It's like a bad rash, just when you think it can't get any worse, it spreads to a whole new area. I don't know how much bigger this can possibly get. I'm not a religious person but I find myself silently praying for a small reprieve from this horror. Not just for me, but for Faith too. I don't think it's too much to ask. I've never wanted anything so bad.
Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how it ends for me. Not a GSW, not a valiant effort to save a helpless civilian, but this.
You know, Fred, if you had just left me alone, get well enough to talk, save Faith, and THEN kicked my ass, things could have worked out a whole lot better for everyone. But now, I lie here, unable to breathe - dying. If I die, Fred, who the hell is going to save your wife? Huh? - Jag-off.
"I think I'm in. Start him slowly, just to be sure."
The repetitive whooshing sound is back. I wait for a few agonizingly long seconds.
"June, what's his temp?"
"103."
"He doesn't stand much of a chance here unless we get that under control," the Doc sighs, traces of despondency apparent in his voice. "Is his scalp- lac infected at all?"
The old nurse gently pulls at the tape holding the bandage on my forehead. She frowns and shakes her head, no.
"Well, that's one less worry I guess, but there appears to be an infection in his throat. Can you get a swab and run it up to the lab? Something's definitely not right there."
He presses his stethoscope onto either side of my chest. "Okay, breath sounds are good. You can up his oxygen."
The nurse presses several buttons on the machine at my bedside, releasing sweet oxygen into my lifeless lungs. Relief courses through my body, relaxing my tightly contracted muscles. I open my eyes slowly, and that's when I notice it - my audience. Ty is standing behind Fred, holding onto his cuffs with one hand and the other hand placed on his own forehead, as though he's ready to cover his eyes if it gets too scary. Fred is staring at the ground. Who knows, maybe he's ashamed of his actions. The two FBI agents are off to the left, their badges still in their hands, but at their sides. Incredibly, I guess they figure they have no authority over this matter. Several doctors and nurses are working on me silently.
Dr. Grander follows my gaze to the awestruck crowd, "While you're running that swab to the lab," he directs towards Nurse Carson, "check in with recovery and tell them that Mrs. Yokas is in stable condition and no longer needs to be in the ICU. I think it would be in everyone's best interest to move her out of here."
Nurse Carson nods her agreement and several other doctors and nurses continue working on me silently. There must be nothing left to say.
I blink slowly as the nurse approaches me with what looks like a giant Q- tip. She slides the object into my mouth and rubs it against my tender throat. I wince and my eyes water again. Just when I thought it couldn't get more uncomfortable, I reopen my eyes to see they're still there- watching. The insufferable silence is broken by a weak voice.
"What's going on? Is everything okay?"
Nothing.
Someone answer her because I sure as hell can't. Tell her it's fine. Tell her that her husband 's a saint. Tell her anything to make her happy. Just don't tell her the truth. Don't tell her that I can't save her - that I've failed her once again. Just please, don't tell her that.
TBC. Let me know how you feel about this one. Thanks!
Though I must credit the person who makes my work legible. Sarah (commonly known as Sarahlee), I couldn't do this without you, girl! Thanks for all your help, I owe you big time! Enjoy the Chapter :)
Joey
Disclaimer: I own nothing... is this a broken record?
-The Hours After-
I can hear footsteps getting closer and through my barely-opened eyes, I see Fred standing at the foot of my bed, arms fixed at his side, hands balled in fists, face flush red with anger.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Chapter 7
Oh shit, Fred. This is not good. I am not usually the level head in these sort of situations, but really, what is this going to accomplish? Before I can progress any further, he lunges at me.
For the first time since I was a little kid, I'm helpless. I can't move, let alone fight back. There seems to be no method to his attack - he just wants to hurt me. Doesn't he know that hurting me only decreases the chances that his wife won't go to prison? I know he's not thinking, he's just reacting.
I close my eyes as he lands a punch to my left temple. The blow jars my already vulnerable brain, making it sound like everything's underwater. I can hear both Fred and Davis yelling, but Fred's hit has sent me in such a downward spiral that, for the moment, I am unable to comprehend what's being said.
In the vicious struggle, Fred has yanked on the ventilator tube, causing it to shift in my throat. The movement causes such excruciating pain that my eyes shoot open and I hear myself utter a muffled cry. Instinctively, I roll over on my side to protect myself. Fred lands a couple more blows around my face and neck as Davis -I assume- is trying to pry him off.
"LET GO OF ME!" His arms are flailing, occasionally making contact with my skull. Each shot injects more pain, causing my stomach to turn and eyes to water profusely.
"FRED! FRED! BACK OFF!"
Yeah, that's Davis. Struggling with the crazed animal who is vehemently attacking me.
Fred lands one more hard blow to my abdomen, and I swear I'm going to vomit. My reflexes cause me to swallow but the action is quickly interrupted by the ventilator tube. I start choking violently on the intrusive plastic. I can't breathe. My lungs and stomach are fighting the tube with every last ounce of strength.
Davis is finally getting Fred under control, and as he is attempting to peel him off of me, Fred's knee jabs into my chest, causing me to struggle more forcefully for any little bit of oxygen.
"You need to CALM DOWN! Got it?!"
You tell him Davis.
"June! I want you to run and get Dr. Grander!"
The old doc is attempting to roll me over into my original position. He looks at me for a second before he does anything, appraising the damage.
Com'on, Doc. Do something. Help me! Can't you see I'm in trouble here? It feels like I have been without oxygen for an hour. I continue to gag and choke on the tube while the old man mocks me with his stare.
"What happened here?"
Doogie to the rescue.
"He was jumped by Mrs. Yokas' husband."
In my furious battle for air, I glance over to Davis. He has Fred cuffed, but is making no attempt to move him out of the room. I make eye contact with him briefly. He's breathing heavily and he still looks terrified. I close my eyes, breaking the contact after a second. I can't stand to see people look at me with such pity. I hate being this fragile and defenseless.
"We're going to have to extubate," Dr. Grander anxiously shouts. "Have an oxygen mask ready. We'll attempt to stabilize him. I'm going to need a laryngoscope with a 3 blade ready along with 120 of suxamethonium."
My chest and stomach are simultaneously heaving - straining to draw in oxygen. I hear a descending hiss as the failing ventilator is dissembled.
Dr. Grander is practically on top of me as he puts one hand behind my neck, lifting it slightly, and pulls the tube out with the other. The action causes me to cough violently. Each cough tears at my throat and I can taste blood seeping into my mouth. The taste is sickening and my stomach begins to convulse. The Doc manages to rotate me so I don't choke on the few contents that my stomach is discarding.
"What the hell? Where's all this blood coming from?"
The little guy sounds panicked for the first time since I've met him. For his age, he's actually fairly calm and confident.
The acid from the bile burns the open cuts in my throat, amplifying my pain level and making the struggle to regulate my breathing that much harder.
I feel someone place a mask over my mouth and nose. It's not helping. Can't they see I'm dying here? My body is jerking with each attempted breath. I can hear myself gasping which makes me wonder why they aren't doing anything about it.
Hands are pressing on my abdomen and then up my chest. I see Dr. Grander shake his head, "No edema in the abdominal cavity."
My vision is going spotty. God, I wish they'd just do something.anything.
"Give him the 120 of Sux. Let's intubate again, he's in respiratory failure." Dr. Grander attempts to keep me immobile while Nurse Carson is giving me the injection. Hurry - please hurry.
"Three blade."
Again he climbs on top of me, staring into my mouth with his little, lighted tool.
"I'm going to need some suction in here."
Nurse Carson shoves a smaller, vacuuming tool into my mouth and I notice the steady stream of red liquid flowing through the tube.
"I can't see the cords, his throat is practically swollen shut. How the hell did that happen?"
The doctor tosses the tool off to the side, "June, pass me a 2 blade instead. If you keep suctioning, I may be able to get an opening and slide it in there."
He fiddles with a new attachment and then jerks my head back to try again. Please, Doc, hurry. My gasping has died down and I'm slowly fading. The swimming sensation has returned. I'm almost detached, but not oblivious to the pain. I wonder if this is my punishment. It's like a bad rash, just when you think it can't get any worse, it spreads to a whole new area. I don't know how much bigger this can possibly get. I'm not a religious person but I find myself silently praying for a small reprieve from this horror. Not just for me, but for Faith too. I don't think it's too much to ask. I've never wanted anything so bad.
Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how it ends for me. Not a GSW, not a valiant effort to save a helpless civilian, but this.
You know, Fred, if you had just left me alone, get well enough to talk, save Faith, and THEN kicked my ass, things could have worked out a whole lot better for everyone. But now, I lie here, unable to breathe - dying. If I die, Fred, who the hell is going to save your wife? Huh? - Jag-off.
"I think I'm in. Start him slowly, just to be sure."
The repetitive whooshing sound is back. I wait for a few agonizingly long seconds.
"June, what's his temp?"
"103."
"He doesn't stand much of a chance here unless we get that under control," the Doc sighs, traces of despondency apparent in his voice. "Is his scalp- lac infected at all?"
The old nurse gently pulls at the tape holding the bandage on my forehead. She frowns and shakes her head, no.
"Well, that's one less worry I guess, but there appears to be an infection in his throat. Can you get a swab and run it up to the lab? Something's definitely not right there."
He presses his stethoscope onto either side of my chest. "Okay, breath sounds are good. You can up his oxygen."
The nurse presses several buttons on the machine at my bedside, releasing sweet oxygen into my lifeless lungs. Relief courses through my body, relaxing my tightly contracted muscles. I open my eyes slowly, and that's when I notice it - my audience. Ty is standing behind Fred, holding onto his cuffs with one hand and the other hand placed on his own forehead, as though he's ready to cover his eyes if it gets too scary. Fred is staring at the ground. Who knows, maybe he's ashamed of his actions. The two FBI agents are off to the left, their badges still in their hands, but at their sides. Incredibly, I guess they figure they have no authority over this matter. Several doctors and nurses are working on me silently.
Dr. Grander follows my gaze to the awestruck crowd, "While you're running that swab to the lab," he directs towards Nurse Carson, "check in with recovery and tell them that Mrs. Yokas is in stable condition and no longer needs to be in the ICU. I think it would be in everyone's best interest to move her out of here."
Nurse Carson nods her agreement and several other doctors and nurses continue working on me silently. There must be nothing left to say.
I blink slowly as the nurse approaches me with what looks like a giant Q- tip. She slides the object into my mouth and rubs it against my tender throat. I wince and my eyes water again. Just when I thought it couldn't get more uncomfortable, I reopen my eyes to see they're still there- watching. The insufferable silence is broken by a weak voice.
"What's going on? Is everything okay?"
Nothing.
Someone answer her because I sure as hell can't. Tell her it's fine. Tell her that her husband 's a saint. Tell her anything to make her happy. Just don't tell her the truth. Don't tell her that I can't save her - that I've failed her once again. Just please, don't tell her that.
TBC. Let me know how you feel about this one. Thanks!