For the first time in my Amtrak life the wifi actually works on this train! So here this is. Thank you Amtrak and thank you all for reading.
Also huge shoutout to JessicaR for providing the incredibly inspiring surrounds of Ithaca as muse for the words below (tho it wasn't a grimmy motel in the middle of nowhere, it was quite the opposite but somehow it still worked ha). Thank you Jess!
This is a quick one just to keep the story moving.
X
She wakes up to the sound of running water.
Her muscles are stiff, her body is aching. She feels a panging throb in her shoulder, nausea emanating in her belly. She turns slowly, until she's on her side, her eyes attempting to adjust to the darkness.
She can see a strip of light coming from the bathroom where he'd left the door a crack open. She wonders if he purposefully left it ajar in case she tried anything while he was in there. At this point she couldn't do anything if she wanted to. Her bodies rapid decline since she fell asleep was the only thing she could focus on now.
She tries to keep her entire weight on her good shoulder but it's like she's woken up with the hangover of the century. Every muscle and fibre in her body is screaming at her for pain relief. He had offered her painkillers before she had fallen asleep but she was too exhausted and stubborn to take them.
Now it's all she can think about.
She hears heavy breathing coming from the bathroom and the intermittent sounds of running water. Between the lack of light and the waves of pain and nausea, it feels like she's dreaming. Her hands pat the surface of the bedside table hoping to come in contact with the pill container or at the very least, some water.
Her hands locate nothing but the bedside lamp so she flicks it on, squinting against the harsh spray of light. She attempts to sit up, her mouth is parched but all of that is forgotten when she sees it lying there, crumpled up on the ground. Her heart practically stops as she takes in the cream comforter he'd taken to the floor last night marked with a considerable pool of blood in the centre. The stark contrast of red against cream makes her throat constrict. Her mind flashes back to the blood she had found on the front of her dress - the blood that came out of nowhere. The blood that wasn't hers.
She starts to peal herself off the mattress, the pang in her shoulder causing an onset of vertigo to hit. She breathes deeply in response, trying to control her shaking hands long enough to pull herself upright.
She sees him moving around in the bathroom. She catches a glimpse of him in front of the mirror, shirtless, bending over the faucet in what appears to be distress. She knows she will need to see a doctor soon for her shoulder but by the looks of things - he needs onenow.
He can hear her moving around out there.
He had seen the light go on, heard the rustling of sheets but all he could focus on now was the strip of agony in his lower abdomen.
He knows it's somewhere around 5:30am and he hasn't slept a wink. He'd heard Olivia fall into the makings of a heavy slumber as she slipped into her first rem cycle but the pain hadn't allowed him the same luxury. He had disguised his injury from Olivia because he didn't want her to worry but now he admits, even he was worried.
As the hours drew on, it had only gotten worse. The bleeding hadn't stopped like he assumed it would, the open wound was still at risk of infection and he'd spent the last twenty minutes rerouting the entirety of their plans in his mind. Screw dropping her at the bus stop. Screw his onward journey and getting himself as far away as possible - they needed help and they needed it now.
"El," he hears the faint makings of her voice behind the bathroom door and he waits for her to follow it up with a question. When he doesn't answer her she pushes the door slowly open, the creek making his heart thud in trepidation because he doesn't know what to tell her. He looks up, their eyes meeting in the grimy motel mirror and he holds her stare for a few moments before he sees her eyes lower to his stomach.
Then her mouth parts and she is pushing forward.
"Oh God," she gasps and then she is grabbing him, turning him at his elbow so she can see the full extent of his wound in the flesh. His hands curl over the lip of the bathroom counter, holding himself up as she takes in the carnage.
He'd removed the bandage from earlier and was attempting to clean the wound once more. There were clumps of bloodied toilet paper scattered across the sink and in the trash and he watches her face move from his wound to the blood soaked papers and then slowly back up to his face.
"We need…" Her fingers start to tremble as he watches her face turn a stark shade of white. "You need.."
She can't seem to finish the words and neither can he.
He tries to retain some semblance of strength in his voice when he says it so he doesn't make this worse.
"Get our stuff," he tells her quietly. "I'm gonna need you to drive."
Her watery eyes blink back up at his.
"Elliot," she whispers firmly. "We're callingan ambulance."
When he doesn't respond he watches the disbelief swarm at the mere prospect that they would leave this motel without immediate help but there was no way he was risking a hospital at this point.
"I know someone," he tells her quietly. "It's not far."
TBC
