A/N- Ah…I don't know how I feel about his chapter…Tell me?
CHAPTER 40
A gust of air surges through my body causing me to breathe heavily and rapidly. My eyes shoot open and look blurrily about the room. Blinking a couple of times, my vision clears up and I notice that I'm in the hospital. What the fuck? I try to move my arms but they don't respond. I try my legs and neither do they. My breath accelerates with sudden fear. How'd I get here? WHY CAN'T I MOVE?
Racking through my brain for the faintest of memories, I only come up with seeing Dominick's worried face and having heard shots…and then nothing. Is he okay? Where is he? I GOTTA GET UP! Attempting to move once more, I only feel pain and soreness. I'm paralyzed. Closing my eyes to get my memory going nothing pops up only a short vignette of hearing voices in the distance and seeing nothing but brightness.
Frustrated, I damn near cry. I breathe furiously and will myself not to cry. Being here, in the hospital, on this bed not knowing how in the world I got here or not remembering anything in between frustrates me. All of this leads to me letting out a deep groan. My lack of senses and judgment forgot to notice the person previously sleeping at the side of my bed.
With a yawn, the man wakes up…slowly opening those eyelids revealing the only pair of eyes I deem unforgettable. Yes, this man…he's Phil. Quietly I observe the simple beauty of him waking up. Honestly, whatever he does, I find it beautiful. Kinda weird since I'm describing a man, one who's so sarcastic you can never quite tell if he's fucking around or not.
Alas, he's fully awake. It takes him a second or two to realize that I, too, am awake. At first he just stares at me awestruck, then as if testing reality he wipes his eyes, and finally he literally starts crying while smiling, caressing my face lovingly. C'mon, body, work with me! Lifting an aching, trembling hand, I lightly wipe away his tears wondering the reason behind them. A soft smile on my lips and tears in my eyes appear as he takes hold of my hand and kisses my fingers taking in the feel, "Is this real?", he asks in pitch no higher than a whisper
Opening my mouth, I attempt to formulate words but nothing comes out. Another attempt, "W-what…is?", the question comes out in a croak
Phil gazes at me with surprise. There something wrong with me? "Y-y-you're really awake…I'm not dreaming…"
Just as I'm about to speak, or at least try, the door opens. In comes Colt with a tray of food and by the looks of it…Phil needs that shit, urgently. It hits me that these two men seem to be living zombies. Both of them look as if they haven't slept in days or haven't really done anything to look presentable—they're wearing pajama pants and band t-shirts. They were wearing formalwear last time I saw 'em…?
Going back, Colt opens his mouth to say something to Punk but instead he leaves it hanging open…he stares at me as if he's just seen a ghost. With a loud clash, the tray of food makes contact with the ground, smearing it like paint. Scott, my dear friend, strides over and falls to his knees, next to Punk, and observes. He pokes me and I wince—I'm not a dead animal, idiot. Scott clears this as a passed test and hugs me, knocking the wind outta my poor lungs.
I whimper, tears release themselves without my consent. I cry…cry because of this simple form of affection. Cry because the pain, although I don't give a fuck, is excruciating. Cry because I'm alive and feel it. Cry because I don't remember, and because I s'pose I was close to death due to their reactions.
"Colt, you're hurting her…get off.", demands Phil worriedly
Like a bug to repellent, Scott gets off, "S-sorry.", takes me a moment that he, too, cries. Real men cry, see.
"Where does it hurt, ba—Marleene?", asks Phil with great concern. I was such a bitch to you, why do you so much, I move my head side to side, "Mar, you forget that I know you…where does it hurt?", he asks sternly. Stubborn as always. Again, I shake my head. He frowns, "Fine, I guess we'll just bring in the doctor. Colt push the button."
Reluctantly, Colt pushes a button on one of the sides of my bed. In a matter of minutes a nurse arrives and doesn't even ask what's wrong. Woman just stares at me with a sort of relieved smile? She tells the boys that she'll have a certain Dr. Elmer come in. Why do I always get MALE doctors?
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After Dr. Elmer, a quite young adorable man, checks my vitals and all that good shit, he recommends I stay under observation another 2 days. Another?
Clearing my throat, "Doc, for how long have I been out cold?", my voice sounds like that of a heavy smoker which doesn't please me
Dr. Elmer gazes in the boys' general direction before clearing his own throat, "Not counting today… 15 days."
PREPOSTEROUS! With a look of disbelief, "No…NO!", my breath quickens, "What happened? Why so long?"
"You received 3 shot wounds to the upper-back and one through the skull…you're lucky that you only ended up unconscious and not dead."
No wonder I feel so shitty. "Is Dominick okay?", flashbacks flood my mind. I realize that not only did I jump the bullet for my nephew but for my bestfriend too…I can recall hearing Micks struggle and the crazed look in Noah's eye, "W-where's Noah…is Wes okay? How 'bout Micks—DIPS…where are they?", my throat runs dry as I begin to notice a change in demeanor in both Colt and Phil. I hear a monitor start beeping rapidly…almost as fast as my breath.
"Marleene, listen to me…you need to calm down…your blood pressure is too high…breathe.", tries to coax the young doctor but I don't pay attention. I'm too desperate to know the fate of my loved ones
Warm, calloused hands cup my face gently. In my face is Phil, his eyes shining with worry, "Dollface, you gotta calm down...", my breathing is still quick and short; I feel as though I'm drowning, "Listen, if-if you calm down…I'll tell ya'…", that doesn't cut it for me. My vision begins to cloud over, "Dollface? Dollface, please…they're okay. THEY'RE OKAY…", that's what I wanna hear. Even though Phil probably lies, the look etched on his face makes me calm down. Doc puts some type of mask on me and seconds later I realize it's a type of sleeping gas. I knock out cold again.
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Next time I blinked open my eyes, I woke up to a room full of the people. Grogginess flew away as soon as Dominick hopped on my bed and hugged me as tight as he possibly could. His tiny, puny body trembled violently with quiet sobs.
"Aw, papi…no llores…I'm fine.", this did nothing to soothe him, "Baby, I'm fine, really.", I reassure him, patting him lightly
A couple more sobs and the kid finally looks up at me, red-eyed and all, "I-I-I thought that…you was d-dead…Auntie…", he made a face as though he was about to tear up again, "I-I love you so much!", he rams into me and I let out a groan but hug him as if my life depended on it
"I love you too, sweetie.", I whisper. I look around the room and acknowledge just how many people are in here. For one, Phil sits right next to my bed with Colt splayed on the floor, leaning on Phil's chair. On the couch, Randy holds his daughter and chats softly with her mother and Dave. Maria leans against a wall by her lonesome self just staring at Phil and sneaking peaks at her other lover. Jee, and Carlos talk amongst themselves, while Bree stands with them staring cockily at Randy. All seem to be restless, to say the least. Where's McKenzie, Dips, and Wes?
A phone rings which scares me half to death…it's Randy's. He gently scoops up his sleeping child and places her on over her mother's knees and excuses himself. Dave follows along only stopping to half-acknowledge his lover.
Carlos is the first to realize that I'm conscious and walks over with his little crew in tow. Phil and him nod at each other and Phil, along with Scott, remove themselves from my side. Carlos takes his place on the chair with Bree sitting on the armrest and Jee sits at the foot of my bed. Surprisingly Bree is the first to speak up, "Buttercup, you're awake…how you feeling?"
I try to readjust myself but fail only wincing, "I've had better days…"
She smiles sadly, "Haven't we all? I was honestly scared that I wouldn't have somebody to fuck around with at the parlor anymore."
Carlos glares at her for a moment, "Man, I dunno how you do it, babygirl. From being beat to gettin' shanked to shot at…quite a record. You a strong woman.", he rubs my hand, "Much respect, kid. Had me worried for minute, though.", he breathes deeply, "That cuntbag got lucky that he got off easy…the easy way out…", he broods
"What you mean?"
"Mar, girl, you a strong woman…as soon as you can we needa hit the bong or something…I'll supply.", speaks up Jee. What'd Carlos mean?, "But we-we gotta head out…important business to pac—I mean, deal with.", he motions for Bree and Carlos to follow, "I'll see you…get stronger, chica.", one-by-one they all hug me, Bree lingering a bit with tears ready to flow. That was awkward
As the last of the tattoo co-workers leaves, Randy enters along with Dave. The WWE wrestlers have noticeably let their stubble grow but still they look attractive as ever. Randy sits down on the chair but still towers over me. Dave walks out with a displeased looking Maria. Figures…, "How you feeling, sweetheart?", asks Randy
"Like hell…", I answer honestly, "I guess those people on T.V weren't overacting…", I say trying to lift the thick air.
RKO chuckles and shakes his head, "You think?", he licks his lips, "When I heard what had happened I literally was ready to explode. That was fucking unbelievable. Y'know, I've spent so much time in this hospital…I can actually call it a home.", he states chuckling
"I'm sorry…but that was me trying to be Superwoman.", I tell him
"Well, Superwoman you are…that was amazing. You have balls…big ones.", he says with a playful smirk
"If I could lift my arms without feeling like I'm on fire..."
He lifts his hands defensively, "Calm down, tigress.", he takes something out of his pocket…a phone, "Here, yours got crushed and yeah…Merry Christmas and Happy New Years."
I stare at him as if he's gone loony, "You shouldn't have."
"I did…take it.", he puts in my hand, "I'd like to stay and chat but…Vince called up and well…I got a show to catch in 72 hours.", he looks over to his daughter and babymomma, "It's gonna be hard leaving those two…especially you, my friend."
Smiling slightly, "Don't worry about me… I got your number.", looking in his family's direction, "You could always invite Sam to live with you…as a live-in babymomma. That way you'd see the kiddo more often."
He ponders for about a minute, "I'll see what's up. I can't thank you enough though. Thanks…I think that was one of the most proudest moments in my life…next to banging Patricia Stratigias.", he says with a sexy smirk
I choke on my spit, "You're disgusting.", I laugh, "Well, I'll see you?"
"You can count on that…I'll keep in touch—perhaps we'll catch some fish and chips in Australia…never know with the Viper.", he says winking
Laughing, "Oh boy…I'll miss you, stud."
He envelops me in a tight embrace, "I know.", I gasp, "I'll miss you too. Recover quick and I'm sorry about how things had to go down…just know that things can't be all controlled.", he kisses my forehead and steps away. Wait…what? He passes by Phil and I'm ready for a reenactment of SmackDown but all they do is whisper a few words and shake hands. Is this a truce? Maria comes back in teary-eyed and says nothing when Punk asks her what's wrong. Randy with Addie in arms and Sam walk out waving good-bye.
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It's just Punk, Maria, Colt, and me…tension is high. Scott makes his way over and announces to anybody in general that he'll be back. With that news, he grabs Maria by the wrist and forcefully drags her out the door. Once the door clicks close, I stare at Phil…he avoids my eyes knowing that I'm about to pour in questions.
"Where's Micks and Wes…they should be here…they're my bestfriends.", I ask him
Noticeably, he tenses up and runs a tattooed hand through his hair. He sits on my bed and just stares at me. Sadness fills those lush olive-greens…or fills them even more. His mouth opens but nothing comes out of it. The indie-wrestler grabs one of my hands and looks me deeply in the eyes but yet refuses to say a word
Something's wrong. My brows furrow together, "Phil…Where. Are. Wesley and Micks?", anticipation and desperation courses through my whole body as I just lay here with the man I feel so strongly for, "WHERE ARE THEY!", I launch myself at him ignoring the pain. His eyes tell it all. No words needed they say the shit that can't be said with word of mouth. I shake him, or at least try to, asking over and over for my two life-long friends…brother and sister.
Tiring myself out, I rest my head against his shoulder, sobbing, "Just tell me, Phil…pity me."
Strong arms engulf me, hugging me to his body tightly as if I'd disappear should he do so lightly, "Doll…I-I'm so fucking so-sorry…", his voice shakes, HE shakes, "Wes—Wes he's go—"
The Hulk in me is unleashed and I fight him off. Hitting him. Shaking him. Screaming, yelling, shrieking…anything to express my pain…inner pain. Pain of the heart.
When all is said and done…I realize that no matter how much I cry, how much I yell, how much I plead…my bestfriend, Wesley Efrain Mendes won't come back to life. Nope. Not in this life, not ever.
"He's on life support…", whispers Phil. He doesn't budge, doesn't move—salty tears stream down his…I am not the only one who has lost a friend, a brother.
"Phil...hold me.", I whisper and he, without so much a question, does. Don't ever let go…I'm falling through.