AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sharp glass. A scream - I think it's mine. Heavy breaths. Loud noises. Why is everything so loud?
A man dressed in what looked like a very expensive tuxedo walked inside the hospital carrying a young woman in his arms. She was pale, her clothes were wrinkled, and her head was limp, hanging to the side. Her luxurious jet-black hair was flowing down in velvety waves. She was beautiful even in this ghastly state.
The man walked in the middle of the emergency room and started yelling orders:
"I need help here, STAT!"
A young and jumpy girl, probably the intern on call, came to them, but she was hesitant to look directly into the intimidating eyes of the man wearing the tuxedo.
"Do you have a problem, sir?"
He raised an eyebrow, frowning her way. This was not the time to give a lesson on protocol.
"Can't you see the woman that's passed out in my arms?"
"Yes, sir." She turned around to the nursing post and yelled for a mobile bed. "What happened to her?"
"I don't know. I found her like that. She was on the street in front of my hotel. I think it was a hit and run."
I think I saw some blood. It's not so bad. I've had worse. My feet hurt. Am I running? Where? A car honks. Lights. I think I see stars coming my way, but they stop. My feet keep hurting.
"She's fine, sir. I need you to go wait in the waiting room."
He unbuttoned his tailored jacket and threw it on the dirty hospital floor, carelessly. The expensive material didn't stand a chance in front of his frustration.
"I will not wait; I will sit right here and see what you are doing for this woman."
The intern shivered on the inside but forced herself to stay in place. She would not let herself be bullied out of doing her job.
"We're gonna take care of the patient. I assure you, we have a very capable team here at Boston Presbyterian. Please step away and let us help the lady."
"Oh, really?" He was the nice guy. He was always the nice guy, but the last couple of months taught him to say fuck it when the time was right. "I don't see a senior doctor. I don't see the nurses opening a chart for her. You didn't ask for ID, and we've been here for fifteen minutes, and you haven’t checked her vitals. I'm a neurosurgeon from Chicago. I'll sit right here, thank you. Now do your job," he paused and shook his head, "right this time."
My feet stop hurting. I feel like I'm floating on a cloud. I'm moving, but there is no ground on my feet. I'm in a place with strong lights. There’re people moving. I hear them. A needle. A pinch. My head hurts.
The unconscious woman was on a bed looking very peaceful, but she was struggling inside. She wanted to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt like rocks were hanging off of them. A pungent smell of bleach was bothering her nose, and she needed to figure out where she was. That smell was not familiar.
Finally, her eyes fluttered open. The fluorescent light stabbed her eyes like diggers, and she squeezed them back shut. The movement made her head explode with pain. It took several minutes for her to adapt to the light in the room.
A hospital room. It was spacious and all white. She hated white. Why use it when there was so much color in the world?
At the end of her bed, she finally noticed the folding chair in which a massive man was contemplating the view behind the large window. She had never seen him before that day. She’d have remembered a man so dashing.
She didn't know what to say, so she sat there waiting for him to notice she was awake. Something gave her away because he turned and looked directly in her eyes. His green eyes hit her like a fist in the gut.
“You’re up.”
...And his voice. When he spoke, it was like silver silk was covering the place. Why silver? Who knows? It was just like her to feel everything in color.
“I... yes. Where am I?
“Boston Presbyterian. I brought you here.”
He did? She had no idea why.
He rushed to her bed and checked the beeping monitors like he knew his way around them.
“I should call the doctor in. They need to check on you.”
