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    Katya Dee
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Only One Road - 11. Chapter 11

Only One Road (chapter 11)

 

When we got to the ER, the nurse behind the front desk took one single look at Dylan, sighed, and picked up the phone that was sitting next to her. She said something into it quietly, and hung up.

“There is some paperwork that has to be filled out,” she said, and I took it from her.

It took me maybe ten minutes to fill that thing out. I returned the paper to the nurse. She glanced at Dylan who was slumped in the chair, his eyes closed.

“It’ll be five minutes or so,” she said, and I nodded.

I went back to my chair and sat down. Dylan’s head immediately relocated onto my shoulder from the back of the chair. I carefully brushed hair off his face and kissed his temple. A little kid couple of chairs down from us, stared at me with curiosity. It looked like he had an uncontrollable nosebleed -- he had a huge paper towel pressed against his nose, and it was slowly turning bright-red.

“Mom,” he poked a very tired looking woman next to him. “Mom!”

She made a small ‘Umgph!’ sound and opened her eyes.

“What is it, Richie?” she muttered. “Get your head up, sweetie!”

“He just kissed that boy!” Richie completely ignored her request, still staring at Dylan and me.

His mother glanced at us and blinked rapidly, as if seeing Dylan’s head on my shoulder made her teeth ache. She got up and pulled the kid after her.

“Get your head up,” she repeated, and led him away from us, her face determined. She looked like she was afraid that we were contagious or something.

I rolled my eyes and suppressed a very strong desire to flip her off. I hate people sometimes, I really do. I slowly ran my fingers through Dylan’s hair, thinking that I should’ve put it up in a ponytail before we came here, when another nurse came out and called Dylan’s name.

“Come on,” I said into his ear. “Let’s go get you some painkillers.”

He made a sound that sounded like a mix between laughter and a snort, and got up, holding onto my hand.

“You are coming with me,” he muttered.

“Okay,” I whispered and squeezed his fingers.

The nurse gave me a questioning look when we got closer.

“I am with him,” I said without letting go of his hand.

She looked at him, and slowly nodded.

“Fine,” she said, tucking her pen into her breast pocket. “Follow me.”

We followed her into one of the rooms, and five minutes later, she was running her fingers over Dylan’s face and flashing her tiny flashlight into his eyes.

“What happened?” she asked when she finished with that and was writing something down in her pad.

“I fell,” Dylan said indifferently.

The nurse stopped writing and looked at me. I shrugged.

“You heard the man,” I said. “He fell.”

“That’s some fall,” she muttered.

“He is very clumsy,” I said seriously.

“I see,” she nodded and closed her pad. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

She left and closed the door. Dylan looked at me with one good eye.

“You look like hell,” I said with a grin. “Too bad Halloween had passed already. We could’ve scared the crap out of people without any masks or costumes…”

He snorted at that.

“Right…” he muttered. “Damn, it hurts…”

“Where?” I asked, and he just looked at me.

“Everywhere,” he said finally. “Plus, my eye is pissing me off… Feels like I have something draped over it… Annoying,” he finished.

“You’ll heal,” I assured him. “And I am sure, they will give you some nice drugs that will make you somewhat happier, so…”

“Hold me,” he said quietly.

I sat on the edge of his chair, and he pressed his battered face into my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, careful not to squeeze him too tight. I ran my fingers through his hair, and he let out a small sigh and raised his head.

“Connor…” he muttered.

“Mmm?” I asked, my hand caught in his hair.

He let out another small sigh, leaned forward, and pressed his mouth against mine. I kissed him slowly and carefully.

“God…” he whispered into my mouth. “I love you…”

“I love you too,” I muttered and kissed him again.

Of course, there was a quick knock on the door right then. I pulled away from Dylan’s face when the door swung open. Have you noticed how the doctors or nurses never wait for you to yell out, “Come in!”? They just give a rapid knock, letting you know that they are here, and then they immediately open the door. The doctor turned out to be a middle-aged woman with smiling face and very tired eyes.

“So you fell, huh?” she asked, scanning the chart with her eyes.

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Down the stairs.”

“I see,” she nodded as if she just confirmed his birth date. “Well, let’s fix you up, and I’ll need to run a couple of tests to make sure that your falling down didn’t cause anything nasty.”

 

…It took them almost two hours to fix his wrist, take some blood tests, and get him through the X-ray machine. I was afraid that his ribs were broken, but to my enormous surprise, they were fine. Just a hell of a lot of bruises. Finally, the doctor handed him a bottle of pills, wrote something on the prescription pad, and told him to take two pills right now.

“You are not going to drive, correct?” she asked quickly, and he shook his head.

“He won’t,” I said and gave him a paper cup filled with water.

“Okay,” she finished writing whatever it was she was writing in his chart, and looked at us. “He will probably urinate blood for a couple of days,” she said professionally, her gaze fixed on me. “Because that fall of his dealt some serious blows to his kidneys. Pick up the medication that I prescribed as soon as you can. We are going to do a couple of blood tests, and we’ll let you know if something is wrong. Do not drive or go anywhere while you’re taking those pills,” she warned, shifting her gaze towards Dylan.

“He won’t,” I said again.

“If he experiences any dizziness or pain in his lower back after a couple of days, let me know. Also, if there is any vomiting…”

“He threw up on the way here,” I said quickly.

“He swallowed a lot of blood,” she said, and Dylan gave me ‘I-Told-You-So’ look.

The doctor tucked her pen away and fixed her glasses.

“He needs to stay home until at least the end of the week,” she said. “Get as much rest as possible.”

“Got it,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

“And stay away from those pesky stairs,” she added before walking out of the room.

I shoved the prescription into my pocket and pulled out my car keys.

“Where is your car, by the way?” I looked at Dylan.

He gave me a slightly confused look. His good eye seemed to be quite hazy.

“I don’t remember,” he muttered.

I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

“You are high already,” I chuckled. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“I don’t remember,” he repeated, and then snorted. “I guess I am high… Damn, those pills kicked in fast…”

“Doesn’t hurt as much, right?”

“Nope,” he got up and shook his head at the same time.

Then he swayed on his feet, and I caught him.

“Careful,” I laughed. “Come on, let’s get you to bed already.”

…I was shoving him into the passenger’s seat of my Jeep when he said thoughtfully:

“I’m gonna kill that bastard… That’s a promise.”

“Talking about Billy, I take it?” I buckled his seat belt and closed the door.

“Yup,” he said very seriously when I got inside and started the car. “Billy the Goat…”

“Right,” I drove out of the parking lot. “We’ll get him, don’t worry.”

He cocked his head to the right and looked at me intently, which was quite difficult for him to do with those pills knocking him out fast.

“You gonna help me kill him?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’ll do anything for you,” I muttered without taking my eyes off the road.

“Huh,” he replied and dropped his head on the back of the seat, his eyes closing once again.

Copyright © 2011 Katya Dee; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Darn those stairs. Does.Connor realize Dylan is being literal when he said he is going to kill Billy? I think not.

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48 minutes ago, drpaladin said:

Darn those stairs. Does.Connor realize Dylan is being literal when he said he is going to kill Billy? I think not.

Not yet.

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“I’m gonna kill that bastard… That’s a promise.”

I swear I just felt a chill run down my spine

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