Timourous {Ky and Nolan}
Oct 19, 2014 11:46:19 GMT -5
Post by * on Oct 19, 2014 11:46:19 GMT -5
Leaving Vy's room has to be the hardest thing in the world to do. Seeing her so beaten up and everything. Jeran had taken Brooklyn home to let her sleep and he had told her he'd be back in the morning. Again, I was alone. My bare feet padding across the hospital floor silently, hoping not to alert any of the nursing staff that one of their own was walking around where they weren't suppose to be. I had a mission and I was bent upon finding out how Brody was doing.
Gently, I kept my hand against my stomach, feeling tiny little knots forming the closer I got to the other side of the hospital. That's where the patients with life threatening injuries were kept for monitoring. Where I might have been if it wasn't for him. I could have even been dead or my baby, one. A flash of that memory comes to a head once again making me stumble and bump into the wall as the memory of shard of glass was glinting toward my stomach. I knew where the point was going to go if he'd gotten just one more second to himself. If Matthew had taken just two more seconds to fire that one shot... I would be the one laid up in bed or under a sheet.
Instead, here I am leaning up against this wall, fear still sticking me true of what could have happened. I hope he's okay. I hope that he's goign to live, because he has to know who he saved. He has to hear the words leave my mouth. I have to thank him for saving my baby's life and my own.
Would he even be awake to hear it?
Footsteps make me feel alarmed enough to finally start moving again down the hallway and push myself into a waiting room until those footsteps actually go off into the distance and disappear into the quiet hallway yet again.
I peek my head out and slowly make my way down the hallway again, following the signs to the intensive care area. Just as I turn the corner, there sits a man in one of the chairs outside of the door that Jeran had told me he was in. That man, looked so beaten and sad, arms folded up against himself. Is that... his dad?
My fingers tense up against my stomach as I use the handrail to come to the half-closed door where I fear to enter. I look to the man. He resembles the young man who saved my life so much. Only age is the only difference I see, along with the sleek build that my savior had. The man sitting in the chair outside the room looks like he's had years to train and build up muscle. Again, my eyes go back to the part of the room that I can see inside of. Only part of the bed is visible where his feet would be. The table at the end of the bed with the water pitcher on it and a few other items scattered about.
"Is Brody going to be okay?" I ask him in such a soft, gentle voice that it's almost like a whisper.
Gently, I kept my hand against my stomach, feeling tiny little knots forming the closer I got to the other side of the hospital. That's where the patients with life threatening injuries were kept for monitoring. Where I might have been if it wasn't for him. I could have even been dead or my baby, one. A flash of that memory comes to a head once again making me stumble and bump into the wall as the memory of shard of glass was glinting toward my stomach. I knew where the point was going to go if he'd gotten just one more second to himself. If Matthew had taken just two more seconds to fire that one shot... I would be the one laid up in bed or under a sheet.
Instead, here I am leaning up against this wall, fear still sticking me true of what could have happened. I hope he's okay. I hope that he's goign to live, because he has to know who he saved. He has to hear the words leave my mouth. I have to thank him for saving my baby's life and my own.
Would he even be awake to hear it?
Footsteps make me feel alarmed enough to finally start moving again down the hallway and push myself into a waiting room until those footsteps actually go off into the distance and disappear into the quiet hallway yet again.
I peek my head out and slowly make my way down the hallway again, following the signs to the intensive care area. Just as I turn the corner, there sits a man in one of the chairs outside of the door that Jeran had told me he was in. That man, looked so beaten and sad, arms folded up against himself. Is that... his dad?
My fingers tense up against my stomach as I use the handrail to come to the half-closed door where I fear to enter. I look to the man. He resembles the young man who saved my life so much. Only age is the only difference I see, along with the sleek build that my savior had. The man sitting in the chair outside the room looks like he's had years to train and build up muscle. Again, my eyes go back to the part of the room that I can see inside of. Only part of the bed is visible where his feet would be. The table at the end of the bed with the water pitcher on it and a few other items scattered about.
"Is Brody going to be okay?" I ask him in such a soft, gentle voice that it's almost like a whisper.
