Disclaimer: SVU is not mine... but I wouldn't mind if Elliot was...
Broken glass on the ground
Reflecting light from all around
These tiny pieces of my soul
In brilliant colors, greens and gold's
Bleeding life from inside of me
The crimson glass pouring out of me
Passion dying, losing spledor
From purple to blue, losing it's hue
My life in all it's stained glass glory
Nothing more than my tragic story
Mercy General Hospital
January 16, 2006
10:43 AM
I'm sitting here while a nurse pokes at my injured left knee, and almost have to bite through my lip to keep from screaming. The pain is simply excruciating. No, I've been in excruciating pain before... this isn't quite as bad, quite being the key word. At least before I had something to look forward to, something to take my mind off the pain.
She moves her hand up to my hipbone, and this time I do scream. "I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" she asks. No, my shattered hip doesn't hurt at all, I just felt like screaming for no reason. I shake my head as I push her hands away for the hundredth time.
"Yeah, it hurts. But still you keep on pushing on it." I tell her with a forced grin, my frustration seeping through. I turn my head toward the bathroom and catch a glimpse of my pale face, and blood shot eyes in the mirror. I guess all the nights of no sleep are starting to catch up.
I run my hand through my tangled black hair, thinking that my stylist is going to have a hissy fit when he sees it. I hear the door open and roll my eyes, not looking forward to my visitor.
She walks in and pulls the chair from the wall back over to the bed, and sits down. "You know Detective; I'm going to ask them to bring in a more comfortable chair, seeing as you seem to be here all the time. That chair can't be too comfy." I say, glaring at the nurse as I push her hands away again.
She smiles, pulling out her notebook and pen, just like she's done for the past three days. "You're right, it's not." she then turns to the nurse, "Could you give us a minute?" she asks, her tone clearly stating that it wasn't a question.
The nurse opened her mouth to protest, but Detective Benson's look quickly silenced her. She nods her head, and walks out the door… slowly. I keep my eyes on her and count in my head like I've done so many times before. It only takes thirteen seconds to walk from the bed to the door; she drags it out to eighteen.
Finally the door closes and Detective Benson turns her attention back to me. "How are you doing?" she dives right in. I laugh, immediately regretting it as the pain shots through my left side. I slam my eyes closed and grit my teeth against the pain.
Detective Benson quickly stands up and lays her hand against mine. "Are you okay, Rosangela? Do you need me to get a doctor?" she asks. I groan as the pain subsides, and then smirk up at her.
"I'm fine. But you seem to be hard of hearing." I tell her, my voice finally returning to normal. She raises her eyebrows in question as she sits back down in her chair.
She starts tapping her pen against the notebook, something she doesn't even notice she's doing. "What do you mean?" she asks, smirking as she ignores the glare I shoot at her.
I roll my eyes, my trademark move, as she continues her tapping, knowing it's annoying me. "What I mean is you can't seem to get it through your head that I don't remember anything. No matter how many times you ask the answer is going to be the same." I reply, reaching up to rub my eyes. She's about to say something, when she's interrupted by an exclamation of 'Mommy!'
I almost pass out as I'm attacked by a blur of purple…