Rowan16
Rowan
A sharp, rhythmic beeping wormed its way into my consciousness, dragging me out of the dark in slow, uneven increments. It sounded familiar but out of place, and it scraped through the quiet in a way that made my head hurt. My eyelids felt heavy and didn't want to lift when I tried to open them.
At some point, the incessant noise started to cut through the fog in my mind.
With some effort, I managed to pry my eyes open enough to see blurry shapes drifting around me.
I tried to focus, but my vision wouldn't clear, and a heavy throb started to pulse through my head. My brain felt too big for my skull.
Something moved to my left. I heard a quiet, gentle voice, but it was muffled. For a minute, I wondered if I had cotton stuffed in my ears. When I tried to swallow around my dry throat, I thought I'd inhaled sandpaper.
"Mr. Hale?" the voice said, a bit clearer now. "Can you hear me?"
I blinked again, forcing my eyes to stay open despite the way they wanted to slide shut again. I squinted to try to make out the person in front of me, but everything was too fuzzy. All I could make out was a vague outline against a pale, sterile backdrop.
When I tried to talk, I couldn't manage more than a quiet croak. I cleared my throat to try again, but even that small movement sent a flare of pain through my chest.
The female voice spoke again. "Don't try to move too much. You're safe. You're in hospital."
Hospital. The word didn't make sense at first and just kind of bounced around my head without landing anywhere. I swallowed again and forced myself to take a deeper breath, but it caught halfway and made my ribs ache.
The nurse seemed to notice my struggle and leaned in closer as she softened her voice. "Don't force it. You're alright. Can you tell me your first name?"
I managed to mumble something that vaguely resembled "Rowan," though it came out garbled. My head was pounding, and each throb matched the painful pulse in my chest. I tried to push myself up a little to relieve some of the stiffness that had settled into my back.
But the second I moved, a wave of agony crashed through me and stole the breath right out of my lungs. A choked sound broke free before I could stop it. Every muscle in my body locked up.
A hand landed gently on my shoulder to keep me still. "Easy, now. You took quite a beating. Your body won't thank you for pushing it."
I couldn't help the small, shaky breath that escaped me, even though it made the pain in my chest flare. I squeezed my eyes shut to try to force it away, but it just kept buzzing through me, sharp and insistent.
She moved again, and then she mumbled something I couldn't quite make out. I heard her fidget with the machinery before her fuzzy figure reappeared and leaned down. "I've adjusted your morphine drip. You'll feel better in a minute, okay?"
I couldn't bring myself to nod. For now, I just tried to focus on breathing and lying still. My mind was a mess, memories flickering in and out like a broken projector. The pain wouldn't let me think straight, and I couldn't tell how much of it came from my head or my ribs or anywhere else.
The more I focused on breathing, though, the more I became aware of a pressure against my face. I hadn't noticed it at first, but now it was impossible to ignore. It felt heavy, and without thinking, I tried to weakly nudge it away.
The nurse gently caught my wrist before I could do much. "Hey, careful. Is the mask bothering you?"
I managed the slightest nod. Thankfully, this time, it didn't make my head throb so hard. I still couldn't see the nurse clearly, but I heard the soft rustle of fabric as she glanced at something beside the bed. Then she reached up to unhook the mask from around my ears.
She slid it away and replaced it with a thin tube that rested just under my nose. The new setup felt lighter and less suffocating, but the rush of air tickled. I had to force myself not to flinch away from it.
"There we go. That better?"
I gave another small nod and tried to relax against the pillows. It was marginally easier to breathe now, but my chest still hurt, and every inhale seemed to catch along the way.
The nurse must have noticed my discomfort because she reached for some kind of remote on the side of the mattress and pressed a button. I heard a click, and then the bed tilted with a soft whir, propping me up enough that the pressure on my chest eased.
Now that I wasn't so focused on the pain, my thoughts began to scatter. I couldn't make sense of how I'd gotten here, why every inch of me felt bruised and raw. My hand twitched at my side, but the nurse caught it again and nudged it back down.
"What ... " My voice cracked, and I had to swallow again before trying to speak. "What happened?"
She hesitated just a fraction of a second. "Your friend brought you in. I'm not sure what happened, but the doctors took care of your injuries. You're going to be okay."
Friend. The word made my stomach drop, and memories crashed into me all at once.
Marcus.
He'd hit me. Over and over. His fists slammed into me until I couldn't stand anymore.
The pain had been so overwhelming I'd barely registered anything else.
Then the pressure on my throat, the way he'd squeezed so tight I thought he was going to kill me right there.
And then... I couldn't recall what happened after that.
My heart rate spiked, and the monitor beeped faster. I froze at the jarring noise, suddenly hyper-aware of every pain in my body. It wasn't as sharp as it was a few minutes ago, but it was still very much there.
The last thing I could remember was the feeling of Marcus's hands around my throat. So if I was here instead of at my flat, that meant...
He must have decided to cover his tracks. Maybe he thought he'd taken it too far. Or...
No. He was trying to make sure I didn't tell anyone what he did. Or he was trying to make me feel like I owed him for "saving" me. Either way, he was playing mind games again.
My fingers clenched the edge of the blanket until my knuckles hurt. Marcus was here. He had to be. He wouldn't just leave me alone with the nurses. He wouldn't give me a chance to say anything. I forced myself to turn my head and look around the room as best as I could.
Without my glasses, everything was out of focus. But I couldn't make out anything that looked like Marcus or anyone else. It was just me and the nurse.
But that didn't mean he wasn't close by. He could be at the door waiting for the nurse to leave. He could be lurking in the hallway to keep an eye on who came in and out. I had no way of knowing.
Nausea mixed with the panic. If Marcus was here, what would he do when the nurse left? Would he try to finish what he started?
I tried to push myself upright again, but my chest protested immediately.
The nurse's hand nudged my shoulder to carefully ease me back down. "Mr. Hale, I'm serious. You need to stay still."
I didn't want to stay still. I wanted to get up, get out, and put distance between myself and Marcus. But the pain held me in place, and my vision swam again.
I couldn't fight him. If he came back, I wouldn't be able to stop him. I couldn't even sit up without wanting to scream.
My heart pounded harder, and I closed my eyes to try to block out the panic. I had to figure out a way to stay conscious. I couldn't afford to let my guard down. Not when Marcus was still out there.
The nurse's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts and pulled me back to the present.
"Your friend stepped out to get some food," she said gently as she adjusted the blanket.
"He'll be right back. I'll come by to check on you in a bit, too, but just hit the call button if you need anything before then. "
She gave me one last reassuring smile before heading for the door.
I wanted to ask her to stay, to not leave me alone here.
But the words wouldn't come. They were trapped behind the tightness in my chest and the dry, painful scratch in my throat.
I managed a small noise, half-formed and useless, and she didn't notice.
She pulled the curtain behind her and stepped out, letting the door close with a quiet click.
I tried to force down the lump in my throat. My hands shook, and I forced them into fists to try to make them stop. I took a slow breath to calm the pounding in my ears, but it didn't help. The more I thought about being alone, the worse it got.
I could still feel his hands on me, grabbing my neck, crushing my throat. I could still hear the snarled words, the contempt in his voice. Fear crawled up my spine and squeezed tight around my chest.
I forced another breath. In and out. Slow. Careful. It felt like dragging glass through my lungs, but I couldn't fall apart now. I counted the seconds between each inhale and exhale, forcing the fear to back off enough to get my thoughts back in order.
I needed to keep my wits about me. I needed to be ready. When Marcus came back, I had to find a way to get out. Or at least make enough noise that someone would come. Anything to keep him from attacking me again.
Just keep breathing. Just hang on.
Somebody would come. He wouldn't get another chance if I stayed alert. Even as I thought that, though, my hand slid over to the call button and gripped it with all the strength I could muster.
I stared at the ceiling as I tried to keep my breathing steady, but the heart monitor betrayed me. I couldn't make the beeping slow down. The longer I lay there, the longer my thoughts circled around the same panicked spiral of Marcus coming back and finishing what he started.
I squeezed my eyes shut to fight against the ache building behind them. The pain in my head wasn't as bad now, but the dull, relentless pressure wouldn't let me focus on anything for too long. I wanted to think, but everything kept slipping away.