Since you seemed to like the first story so much. I've got another one for you.
For those of you that don't realise, this is a continuation of my previous series. I didn't mean it to be... it just happened....
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And then: 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46
The hospital noise dropped away as she stood over his bed. All she could hear was the beep-beep-beep of the machine he was hooked up to and the rasping sound of breath being forced into his lungs.
Panic of losing him enveloped her senses. She breathed hard and deep, which seemed so horrible because he couldn’t.
She forced down a near-panic attack, lifted her head, slowed her breathing and she concentrated on getting her heart-rate to something near-normal. The psychologist had taught her how to recognise and control the panic attacks in her PTSD treatment all those years ago.
She looked down at him and his eyes flickered open, searching for her. His head couldn’t move much because of the machinery and tubes monitoring his vital signs. He smiled behind the mask but decided that wasn’t enough.
He scratched at the face mask and the nurse tried to put it back in place for him. His weary expression turned to anger for a moment and he slapped her hand away. “F-f-fuck…” he wheezed. “Off… willya?” and he flapped his hand at the nurse.
The nurse didn’t know what to do. A nod from the patient’s visitor didn’t help, and she could only decide to stand out of the way, but stay in the room as the patient removed the mask, pulling it down to his chin.
“You know what to do.” He managed the sentence in one breath but lay panting as though he’d run a marathon. His fist clasped the blankets draped over the bed. His bony frame hardly noticeable under the covers.
The young woman stood to his side. “Wait, don’t go yet,” she said. “He’s on his way, he’s stuck in traffic… Hold on for him… just a few minutes.”
The patient nodded.
The young woman clasped his hand in both of hers and she sat on the chair next to his bed.
She lowered her forehead to the back of his hand.
He reached over and placed his other hand on the back of her head. “Don’t…” he whispered.
“I’m not fucking crying,” she whispered back.
“Course… not.”
Downstairs, at the hospital entrance, a young man abandoned his car. He threw his keys at the security guard trying to stop him running into the hospital.
“Move it if you need to,” he shouted.
He ran down the corridor, side-stepping patients and gurneys, giving apologies of, “’Scuse me! Sorry!” When he got to the elevator he looked at the buttons and saw none of the lifts were close to the ground floor.
“Ah, fuckit!” he said and made for the stairs. He took them two at a time and sprinted around the top of each landing, using the bannister for leverage to get him around to the next flight.
“Fifth fucking floor! Why is it always the fifth fucking floor?” he said under what was left of his breath, bashing through the double doors at the top of the stairs.
He ran down the last corridor, to the end, to the last room, and he burst in, startling the nurse and making the visitor look up. She gave a weak, frightened smile and he thought she’d never looked so beautiful and more vulnerable, and so desperately pleased to see him.
“Is he?” he panted. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna throw up. I could use some of that oxygen, mate,” he said to the patient.
“Take as much as you need, I don’t think it’s doing me any good,” the words didn’t come out as sound, more as murmured breaths, but the visitors both heard and they smiled. He’d not lost his sense of humour, not even at the end.
They all knew it was close to the end. Basically, the only things keeping him on this mortal plane were the machines forcing his body to keep going, and his stubborn streak refusing to let him die.
“Well, he got here,” she said.
The patient blinked. “Yeah…”
“Be good,” he whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you too, you stubborn old fucker,” she said.
“Oh fuck it, do I have to say it too?” the other visitor said.
The patient laughed and wheezed. The nurse moved forward but a glance of venom from the patient kept her in check.
“Say it…” the patient whispered.
“OK, I love you too.”
“No, say the promise.”
He nodded. “OK, Justin. I promise I’ll always take care of Ash for you. Go on now. Off you fuck.”
“Fuck you, kid,” Justin wheezed. “I love you both.”
“Oh…” Ash said as the machines stopped the beep-beep-beep and whined in one tone.
The nurse pushed the emergency button at the side of the door and moments later doctors entered the room.
Robin pulled Ash out of the way, put his arm around her and pulled her head into his chest.
“Come on. They’ve got this now. Let’s go home.”