Hated - Part Two

Hey everyone!

Second part. You can read the first part here: Hated - Part One

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Darkness.

I was sure I had passed out, yet to my dismay, shooting pains launched up my arm. Looking over at my mother, for the second time, I realized her chest wasn't rising and falling. Panic soon settled in.

"M-mom?" I squeaked, throat dry and arm burning. The tone in my voice made me even more frantic. After she didn't so much as flinch at my cry, I dug my left hand deep into my jean pocket, in hot pursuit of a phone. I knew I was pressed. The situation stared me down hard, death in it's eyes, taunting and mocking me, as my hands shook more each passing moment. Just as I was about to fade completely into a deadly sleep, my fingers brushed against some sort of familiar metal. The thought took a moment to process through my foggy mind, but then it clicked. Roughly, I flipped it out with rising hope, feeling my heart beat faster with each passing second.

"911 emergency," the lady speaking over the line informed flatly, as the phone in my hand slipped from my ear and into the crack right between the console and my seat.

"Help!" I heard the plea desperately escape my lips before everything around me slipped into a colorless abyss.

A distant sound screeched aimlessly into my darkened world of unconsciousness. It screamed in my ears, pinching and tingling all the way down my spine. Contorted shouts soon joined this symphony of - what seemed to be - utter foolishness. My head rolled over. I soon felt sick as my thin blood staggered throughout my body, empowered by the weak tapping of my heart. The bitter, lonely, excuse for a heart.

"I'm going to need a different size," a desperate voice ordered impatiently through my cracked window.

Size?

In attempt to sit up and distinguish this character whom was making odd statements, requests maybe, about something of a different size, I wrenched my right arm. The agonizing experience of having skin sheered from a limb, was not a pleasant one. A sudden cry escaped my lips.

"Joe!" the now familiar voice chirped, "Get over here!" Footsteps, grinding, sirens, engines, and shouts thickened the air, polluting it with careless noise and distractions. Then my door began to move, twisting the piece of metal puncturing my arm.

"Ouch!" I heard myself screech at the mocking and haggard hand of pain, as it shredded and wrenched menacingly. I wanted to tell the voice on the other side of my door to stop moving our barrier, and let my arm heal. But he couldn't. Not with the metal stuck in it. A dizzy feeling quickly overtook my being for what seemed the hundredth time. But I couldn't let it dominate me. I had to stay awake. For myself, and my mother.

I could imagine my freedom, as it dangled the sweet aroma of fresh air over all this stench of dried blood.

"Hang on," my rescuer assured gently, yet firmly. It must've been hours- at least that's how it carried itself, slow and desperate. Each passing moment squirmed along, sucking every last second into the longest minute I’d ever experienced.

Then my door gave a low groan, before giving way to the yellow-clad man behind it. His face was dirty and not quite handsome enough, but at this very moment what my eyes saw was an angel. Shining beautifully before me, gripping the car door that was stained with my fluid. If I weren't about to pass out, I would've ran into his arms and thanked him over and over. Instead I smiled faintly and let the stranger carry me to his ambulance.

The first words out me my mouth were the ones I’d been dying to have answered.

"Is my mom ok?"

The nurse strapping me to the small, uncomfortable, emergency bed didn't respond, as his dark brown eyes. remained fixed on his work, letting each stringy finger clip me down tight. For some odd reason, I missed the angel who rescued me. Maybe it wasn't so strange, I mean he had saved my life, and thank goodness he had. But had he been as successful in retrieving my mother? I couldn't bear the thought of her lifeless body painfully hunched over that steering wheel, no matter how much she hated me or my father. Everything within me was praying and hoping that she was still alive.

The gray, chanting, scream of the ambulance echoed harshly off nearby buildings, spreading its haunting song over the city. I could almost see the children, stopping their play by the white picket fences, to watch me inside the belly of this wailing creature, patter by. The very thought of this encounter shook everything within me. My arm began to throb again, as the bird-like nurse used his rough fingers to clean my wound.

Blood began to soak the gauze, triggering an odor that wound through the cold and hospital-like air that soon unease me.

"Almost there," I heard the first words drip from my skeletal companion's mouth, as he finished dressing the gash who so inconveniently stressed my arm. But my mind could not have been further from that depressing city, it was too busy trying to block out all the thoughts that polluted my way of thinking, like the factories discolored the sky. If only I had love to shade my thoughts with brilliant reds and greens. Maybe even some purple, or blue, and yellow perhaps. But alas, love was such a distant memory. So much so, that I barely believed it existed anymore. What if our world was void of all love?

Possible.

My daydreaming had carried me away once again, and soon I realized that my injured body had been placed in a hospital room. Three of my walls were plastic, white curtains. As I looked around, it registered that nearly everything was white. A small white table, garbed with shiny metal utensils, stared over at me, as it remained perched on the opposite side of my room. The air smelled like germ-x, which I soon learned was insanely overused. But over the powerful aroma of hand sanitizer, I heard hasty footsteps clanging down the hall, towards my curtain for a door. And before I could brush that irrelevant idea from my head, the curtain swooped aside, revealing a short, plump, little man, clad in a thin white coat and hospital boots. The look on his face was not a smile, but the most stiff of expressions I’d ever encountered. His bushy black eyebrows nearly covered his eyes when he spoke, which were almost as dark as his furry brow.

"Well, well, well," he puffed, waddling to my side, "what have you gotten yourself into?" Had he detected my unsightly disposition, I would like to think that this dry sense of humor would've suddenly evaporated. My silent response hinted at those very thoughts. Yet this gesture went unnoticed to my self-centered physician.

Big surprise.

"It looks like you got a pretty big puncture there," he plainly stated the obvious, "I’m doctor Higgins, and this is my assistant, Nurse Rose. She's going to clean you up, and see if you need stitches, ok?"

"What about my mom?" the words left a knot in my throat. And for the first time, I saw the doctor's face soften a little.

"She's in critical condition," he informed with a tint of sadness in his voice, "the impact was on her side, so she received most of the damage." I knew I was now on the verge of tears, and desperately trying to mask it. While I was busy trying to prevent a breakdown, doctor Higgins took his leave, as Miss rose set to work immediately, paying little attention to me. And, to tell you the truth, by this time, I was well used to it.

She promptly informed me that the hard part was over, as her bright pink fingernail polish glistened off the florescent lights above. I looked into her distracted grayish-blue eyes, and up and down her pink care bear scrubs which stood out even brighter against her pasty skin and bleach blond hair.

"You know," she forced a smile, interrupting my assessment, "I could probably get you in to see your mother tonight."

My ears suddenly pricked, "really?"

"I will give it a try."

Without realizing it, I smiled childishly, not caring what anyone thought of me, I was tired of concerning myself with others' opinions. But her brief kindness soon vanished when she nodded a greeting to Dr. Higgins.

"And how's our little patient?" his bellowing voice clipped the silent hospital air. A nod of the head was all I offered in return, as he examined my arm with his cool melancholy eyes.

"Looks good," he concluded, scooping up some papers from the counter. Miss Rose slipped out, attempting to see to other patients I assumed.

Soon, my bed was rolled up to a more permanent looking room. It was rather large, but, to my dismay, I was told I’d be sharing.

Although I hadn't seen my rooming partner yet, my instincts took it that I wouldn't be alone for long. Cutting into my thoughts, came the silent opening of my door. Nurse Rose was hidden behind a bed, almost identical to mine, as she pushed it into place. Once completing her task, I got a good look at the boy. And at that moment, knew I would like him.

Peering around, his bright green eyes sparkled in the dim light. His skin was so soft looking with a nice tan shade, the only thing that bothered me about him, was the frown on his dark, soothing lips. Other than the IV protruding from his arm, and the large bandage on his bear chest he seemed perfectly healthy.

"Hi," I squeaked, blushing. Honestly, he was rather good-looking, and for some reason I felt drawn to him, assuming my feelings weren‘t very strange.

"Hey," came his dry response, before turning over on his narrow bed, and folding his arms. This kind of response wasn't uncommon to me, I understood that he found me unattractive with my smeared makeup and tangled hair. Though I felt entitled, considering my mom was in critical care, and the rest of the world seemed to hate me. Still, I liked him.

Strange.

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Let me know what you think

~~Rose