CAP Out of action (Anatra, Marree?)

The droning of the machines makes the room peaceful. I can't describe the feeling, but it can be mistaken for relaxation. The smell of the hospital is clean and sterile, whilst the morphling sends you into an illusive mixture of reality and imagination. There is no chance that I will be off the painkilling drug any time soon. Some part inside me doesn't want to sleep, yet the drug is constantly putting my eyes to a close. My brother Alex stayed with me last night, and now this one too. Up until my parents came. Then they left together knowing that I may want some peace and quiet. My parents visiting wasn't very pleasant. They weren't sure how to deal with the situation, and each of them had work to do, so it was quite rushed. My cousin Alba, however, stayed until I fell asleep. Or at least I pretended to. After she left, the doctors came in to update the notes and check everything was working - the machines, not myself. As my closed eyes seen nothing, my ears listened.

"We're gonna need to apply some more blood in the morning. Did you get another batch?"

"Yeah, though there will likely not be much more after this one."

"Why's that?"

"Because his brother can't healthily give any more."

There is a silence that I hate. I didn't think my condition was that bad, and I can hear my heart rate increasing on the monitor. I felt them reapplying something on my wrist. I know that in the morning, they'll have to change the bandage and once again I'll have to lay on one side for a good few hours. It's hard work, and it is the reason I'll be here longer than if it were a chest cut.

Part of me is glad that it wasn't me that won the fight. If I had, I'd be putting myself through this, and more. I know for definite that Matthew didn't come out of it as bad as me, because from what my brother tells me, he actually left the arena himself. I feel guilt, as all my wounds seem to linger in a distilled pain. Guilt for my final outburst. I shouldn't have done it, and I should have just left the fight where it was. I should have taken his offer of surrender. I should have listened, but the heat of the moment was far too hot for me to think like that. I was focused, and so was he. That's why it ended like this.

I think to myself, in the hours I have alone, of what we would say to each other if we seen one and other again. Would there be bad blood? I'm not even sure. Half of my wants to believe we could even talk. The other half doubts he would want to. I should feel hatred for him, but in this state I can't make up my mind. I want to lean my head to the left or right, but I can't as the bandages and stitches would displace and hurt, even with the painkiller. I look up at the roof of the room, the lights reminding me specifically of the ones in the arena themselves.

I find myself dreaming, but it is far too realistic.

"Tyren Orca, you are victorious!" I hear it now, right in my ears. Is this the reality? Can it even be? I can't see anything around me because I'm blinded by redness, or darkness. I'm standing on a limp Matthew, holding up my bow and some golden trophy I must have collected. Whilst dreaming, I can still hear the heart rate monitor. Right now, it is rocketing.

My eyes open quickly but I can't gasp as much as I want to for breath. I look directly forward at the clock upon the wall - only a minute has passed.

I can't sleep with this pain.

In among my stares to the clock, I hear the door open and suddenly my eyes have widened. He sits next to me and I don't know what to feel. Pain, anger, hatred? "I came to...." This sentence could end in anything. Finish you off. I want to grip my hands into fists and defend myself, but I can't find the strength. I know that the morphling will blur this into a cluster of feelings - but I expected to feel something. "I was wondering how you're doing." I was taken aback, though I couldn't physically show it. I could tell him the obvious and say I'm doing absolutely awful, but I have to admit to myself that we were both in that arena for the same reason, he just happened to be the stronger man.

"Alright... Considering." I raise a small smile that shows how weak my face is from the painkiller. I didn't expect him to be in hospital, though I guess I didn't have the time to think like that. I want to sit and ask him everything, who his friends are and who his family are. Where did he go to school, and what he works as. I want to know everything about the person that did this to me. But then, I remind myself that I could easily have done this to him, it was that close a fight.

A week and a while ago I was recovering from an unarmed fight, now - I'm at the brink of not being able to recover at all. Though, I know that only half of that is really true. "Doctors say I'm recovering." The calmness is helping me forget that we even fought against each other. I want to tell him that I understand, but then again - I still can't decide.

"You all set for your 'next big fight'?" My speech is slow and a little slurred, as though I'm very tired. I am, but it is showing more than I can control at the moment.

My eyes are dry. All of my water is being used for healing. I can feel the weight of my breath weigh into me and out of the closing cuts of my back. "May I?" My face says yes. The stillness in the room reminds me of some kind of purgatory - the gap between heaven and hell. The waiting room, some call it. "You knew what you were in for right?" I linger on the question for a moment, even though the answer was yes. "You got people looking out for you?" My eyes lets themselves fall on the book that Alba was reading. It is on a small side table next to the chair Matt is sitting on. "Mmm. Whole family's behind me." I can feel the pain in my voice, though I wish it didn't show so clearly. "I knew I'd have some scars to show the folks back home." I seem dazed. I can feel a throb in my head that beats in sync with the heart monitor. I reach for something. A bottle of water, next to the book. I'm not supposed to move much at all, but of course I resist - being me. I take a drink, though the numbness causes the water to go both in my mouth and on my chest.

"..."

"I need a straw ..." I mutter with a laughter that is rudely interrupted by a shot of pain. I calm myself into a normal state again. "My brother and I are beginning to rethink the whole attitude we have." I shake my head as much as the neck bandages allow. Not much. "We can see that being a winner is costly."

"I do like the peace and quiet though... Very soothing." I look at him, with his head pointing down. I pity him because he can't see that I have already forgiven him. "It's alright, really. I would have done the same." In my slurring and lack of forethought, I realize that I have just flipped the scales. Telling him that I would have hospitalized him, more badly than currently, is probably not the best idea. But in my state, I can barely maintain correctness in all I say.

"Sorry ..." I let out a weak attempt at laughing. "You have family though, right?"

"Lucky girl?"

"So you're going to quit the program?" I know my answer before I say it, but I rest on the thought for a brief moment as he continues; "You shouldn't. You're a great archer." I smile somewhat. "Thanks. I won't quit training, but you probably won't see me in the pregames again. It was some-" I am interrupted by the nurse, performing her mandatory checks of the machines and such but her eyes are caught by the one next to me. I see a duty in her eyes that I don't like the look of, because I don't see a problem here. She does, clearly. "You shouldn't be here at all." I frown, as I look downward at her from my laid position. "Nah, it's..." I feel a sudden weakness in my voice, which brings a cough. It hurts to even do that, but the pain is becoming all too familiar now anyway. "It's fine."

The opened door brings in a whole new draft of the 'hospital smell'. I like the smell, it is soothing, and makes me at least believe I am going to get better. I wait to see whether Matthew wants to stay, and whether the nurse will listen to me or not.