Thanks so much for the reviews… It's because of them that this story has come so far, and I know that without you guys, I wouldn't have been motivated to do it. Thanks for your help - you're all a writer's best friend.
This one's coming to a close, and if you're sad, check out my new one -A Fine Balance- that I have recently posted the first chapter for. I hope it can fill the void… if there happens to be one ;)
Thanks again, and enjoy Chapter 18!
~JOEY~
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
-The Hours After-
Chapter 18
I'm unable to regain my balance to prevent hitting the ground. I can hear repetitive shots being fired, but I'll be damned if I can figure out how many exactly. I swear, every single person in this building is unloading their clip. Glass is shattering in every direction.
I lethargically pull my head upright, getting a quick glance from my vulnerable position in the middle of the floor. No sooner, in my foggy state of mind, am I able to see Cruz's feet, do I feel a burning sensation pound through my left shoulder. The force sends me sprawling backwards. The cool floor temporarily relieves the searing pain coursing through my limbs with rapid force.
A shadow blocks my only light and I momentarily separate my clenched eyelids to see Davis' face turn towards me. I briefly wonder if he's been shot, before returning my attention back to myself, attempting to ensure my own survival through this massive disaster.
I can't tell if they're still shooting, or if I'm hearing the echo of the vociferous gunfire. The cracking blasts are almost drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing through my ears. I gasp anxiously, taking in my first breath since hitting the ground.
"You get her. I'll get EMS!"
I can't even tell who said that. I'm too busy trying desperately to fill my lungs with oxygen at least one more time. I'm almost positive it's silent now - all shooting having ceased - but it's hard to tell through the symphony of agony that's filling my ears and numbing my already faltering senses. The roaring viciously torments my pounding head and has me grasping for something - anything to grip onto in this state of pure anguish.
I feel something brush my palm and I grab onto it with strength that I didn't know I had left in me.
Someone's crying. Oh my God… no. No, this can't be… How could this be happening to me?
I doubt anyone would be crying over me, which means that there has to be another reason. She has to be alright. I would die fifty times over if it meant that she wouldn't have a scratch on her. Please let her be okay. Please…
"AAAGH!" Any air that happened to be left over in my burning lungs is thrust out when I feel a wicked pain vibrate through my shoulder as someone presses forcefully onto the wound. I can hear myself coughing, but I can't feel it. My body feels like it's being pricked with several thousand tiny needles, leaving me completely numb.
The burning, coughing, and sickening roar of the rushing blood- it's a little too overwhelming. I'm flooded, and I'm not sure I can take this for much longer.
"Bosco! Com'mon…"
Just hearing my name spoken makes me feel slightly better. At least they're still talking 'to' me and not 'about' me - I must still be alive, though it's kind of hard to tell right now…
"It's okay, Bos. Just breathe."
I can't believe my ears. I actually refuse to allow myself to feel the relief that I would expect to feel by just hearing her voice. I can't take the disappointment if it's not true - if my mind was imagining something just because it's what I want to hear.
Seconds turn into minutes and it would seem an eternity passes before help arrives. One would think that being just across the road, the medics could have gotten here a little quicker… apparently not.
I feel her hands on my chest and her tears falling onto my face. Considering I can't feel very much right now, those two sensations comfort me enough that I am able to accept whatever is coming my way.
I never thought I was a weak person, but I really have no idea if I have the strength to get through this. I doubt the gunshot is any more than a flesh wound, but I can't help but wonder if it will be the straw that breaks the camel's back. For Faith's sake, I sure as hell hope not. She's been through enough shit because of me - she doesn't need to feel the pain of losing her partner.
One of the thousands of pinpricks felt across the entire area of my skin stands out. Are the medics here? I didn't hear them arrive. I can't hear or see anything and the feeling of complete loss of control and vulnerability makes my chest tighten even further until I feel like there's a giant band around my upper body, not allowing my lungs to expand without extraordinary effort.
Someone is manhandling me, but I can't see who. I'm being told to do things, but I don't know what exactly. The result is panic, and it overcomes me with such fluidity - sending waves of heat through my entire body, emitting a cold sweat through every pore it passes.
The only thing I can actually 'feel' is a hand on my forehead. It doesn't appear to be doing anything, but at the same time, it's doing everything. With that small token of comfort, my exhausted body checks out.
******************************
Waking up to this makes me feel so relieved yet so disgusted at the same time. I'm relieved because I'm alive - I'm disgusted because I'm in a hospital. I don't even need to open my eyes to know that. I can sense it, and just the thought of being trapped in such an environment again makes my stomach turn.
I struggle with my brain to open my eyes. I know I'm drugged up pretty good because signals and reactions are delayed. With much effort, my eyelids crack open slightly.
I shut them almost immediately - overwhelmed by the sickening feeling it induces. I try once more, this time the nausea isn't as potent, but my head pounds relentlessly. I attempt to wipe the haze from my eyes but my right arm is anchored down. I slowly -carefully- so as not to make any sudden movements that will upset my fragile body, shift my eyes to the right. The sight before my eyes makes me want to drop to my knees and thank God.
Faith's head is resting across my forearm - her hair drapes all the way up to my elbow. I can't see her face, which is turned away from me, but I can tell she's exhausted, so I try not to make any sudden movements that could wake her.
My left arm is in a sling. A dull ache radiates from the area, down my arm and through my hand. It's not extremely painful by any means - just uncomfortable. The drugs that are surely dancing through my veins take care of the agony that consumed me earlier.
I close my eyes briefly, taking as deep a breath as my chest will allow without breaking into a coughing fit, before turning my attention back to my sleeping partner. She doesn't appear to be harmed. It's amazing. There are so many questions I would love answers to. Who opened fire? Was anyone else hurt?
Who the hell shot me? Did the bitch go down?
Turning away from Faith, I realize that answers will come later. Right now, I concede defeat and allow myself to drift back into a heavy sleep - reassured by the sleeping form of my unharmed partner at my bedside.
TBC. Please drop me a review and make me smile!
This one's coming to a close, and if you're sad, check out my new one -A Fine Balance- that I have recently posted the first chapter for. I hope it can fill the void… if there happens to be one ;)
Thanks again, and enjoy Chapter 18!
~JOEY~
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
-The Hours After-
Chapter 18
I'm unable to regain my balance to prevent hitting the ground. I can hear repetitive shots being fired, but I'll be damned if I can figure out how many exactly. I swear, every single person in this building is unloading their clip. Glass is shattering in every direction.
I lethargically pull my head upright, getting a quick glance from my vulnerable position in the middle of the floor. No sooner, in my foggy state of mind, am I able to see Cruz's feet, do I feel a burning sensation pound through my left shoulder. The force sends me sprawling backwards. The cool floor temporarily relieves the searing pain coursing through my limbs with rapid force.
A shadow blocks my only light and I momentarily separate my clenched eyelids to see Davis' face turn towards me. I briefly wonder if he's been shot, before returning my attention back to myself, attempting to ensure my own survival through this massive disaster.
I can't tell if they're still shooting, or if I'm hearing the echo of the vociferous gunfire. The cracking blasts are almost drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing through my ears. I gasp anxiously, taking in my first breath since hitting the ground.
"You get her. I'll get EMS!"
I can't even tell who said that. I'm too busy trying desperately to fill my lungs with oxygen at least one more time. I'm almost positive it's silent now - all shooting having ceased - but it's hard to tell through the symphony of agony that's filling my ears and numbing my already faltering senses. The roaring viciously torments my pounding head and has me grasping for something - anything to grip onto in this state of pure anguish.
I feel something brush my palm and I grab onto it with strength that I didn't know I had left in me.
Someone's crying. Oh my God… no. No, this can't be… How could this be happening to me?
I doubt anyone would be crying over me, which means that there has to be another reason. She has to be alright. I would die fifty times over if it meant that she wouldn't have a scratch on her. Please let her be okay. Please…
"AAAGH!" Any air that happened to be left over in my burning lungs is thrust out when I feel a wicked pain vibrate through my shoulder as someone presses forcefully onto the wound. I can hear myself coughing, but I can't feel it. My body feels like it's being pricked with several thousand tiny needles, leaving me completely numb.
The burning, coughing, and sickening roar of the rushing blood- it's a little too overwhelming. I'm flooded, and I'm not sure I can take this for much longer.
"Bosco! Com'mon…"
Just hearing my name spoken makes me feel slightly better. At least they're still talking 'to' me and not 'about' me - I must still be alive, though it's kind of hard to tell right now…
"It's okay, Bos. Just breathe."
I can't believe my ears. I actually refuse to allow myself to feel the relief that I would expect to feel by just hearing her voice. I can't take the disappointment if it's not true - if my mind was imagining something just because it's what I want to hear.
Seconds turn into minutes and it would seem an eternity passes before help arrives. One would think that being just across the road, the medics could have gotten here a little quicker… apparently not.
I feel her hands on my chest and her tears falling onto my face. Considering I can't feel very much right now, those two sensations comfort me enough that I am able to accept whatever is coming my way.
I never thought I was a weak person, but I really have no idea if I have the strength to get through this. I doubt the gunshot is any more than a flesh wound, but I can't help but wonder if it will be the straw that breaks the camel's back. For Faith's sake, I sure as hell hope not. She's been through enough shit because of me - she doesn't need to feel the pain of losing her partner.
One of the thousands of pinpricks felt across the entire area of my skin stands out. Are the medics here? I didn't hear them arrive. I can't hear or see anything and the feeling of complete loss of control and vulnerability makes my chest tighten even further until I feel like there's a giant band around my upper body, not allowing my lungs to expand without extraordinary effort.
Someone is manhandling me, but I can't see who. I'm being told to do things, but I don't know what exactly. The result is panic, and it overcomes me with such fluidity - sending waves of heat through my entire body, emitting a cold sweat through every pore it passes.
The only thing I can actually 'feel' is a hand on my forehead. It doesn't appear to be doing anything, but at the same time, it's doing everything. With that small token of comfort, my exhausted body checks out.
******************************
Waking up to this makes me feel so relieved yet so disgusted at the same time. I'm relieved because I'm alive - I'm disgusted because I'm in a hospital. I don't even need to open my eyes to know that. I can sense it, and just the thought of being trapped in such an environment again makes my stomach turn.
I struggle with my brain to open my eyes. I know I'm drugged up pretty good because signals and reactions are delayed. With much effort, my eyelids crack open slightly.
I shut them almost immediately - overwhelmed by the sickening feeling it induces. I try once more, this time the nausea isn't as potent, but my head pounds relentlessly. I attempt to wipe the haze from my eyes but my right arm is anchored down. I slowly -carefully- so as not to make any sudden movements that will upset my fragile body, shift my eyes to the right. The sight before my eyes makes me want to drop to my knees and thank God.
Faith's head is resting across my forearm - her hair drapes all the way up to my elbow. I can't see her face, which is turned away from me, but I can tell she's exhausted, so I try not to make any sudden movements that could wake her.
My left arm is in a sling. A dull ache radiates from the area, down my arm and through my hand. It's not extremely painful by any means - just uncomfortable. The drugs that are surely dancing through my veins take care of the agony that consumed me earlier.
I close my eyes briefly, taking as deep a breath as my chest will allow without breaking into a coughing fit, before turning my attention back to my sleeping partner. She doesn't appear to be harmed. It's amazing. There are so many questions I would love answers to. Who opened fire? Was anyone else hurt?
Who the hell shot me? Did the bitch go down?
Turning away from Faith, I realize that answers will come later. Right now, I concede defeat and allow myself to drift back into a heavy sleep - reassured by the sleeping form of my unharmed partner at my bedside.
TBC. Please drop me a review and make me smile!