Chapter 39
Quinnly
There’s a moment between life and death that suspends your mind, like a fog without a destination.
Gasping for air, I choke on something foreign, there’s beeping and calamity all around.
I try to swallow but there’s something’s jammed in my throat, my body doesn’t respond when I try and lift my arms, and my fucking eyes won’t work…
Oh, fuck, I really am dead.
But, if that’s true…
There’s a noise and then my gag reflex constricts and releases as something slithers up my throat.
Bright ass lights cloud my vision and I blink, over and over until my eyes clear and I can see all the fuckery going on. Clone Two’s face is inches from mine, at least I think it’s one of the clones.
“She’s awake,” he deadpans. Yep Clone Two. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Wild One.”
His hand squeezes mine and then Lincoln fills my vision, it’s hard not to with how big he is. He’s all I can see now, but I can hear machines and conversations happening around us.
“You’re mad…” I guess, judging by the stern look on his face.
“I’m fucking furious,” he whispers, leaning close enough to brush his lips against my temple. “But we’ll get to that later.”
“Now that sounds like a fun time–”
His hard glare makes me pause as Clone One comes around the other side of the bed and presses something on a machine. My arm starts to move, a band around it expands, squeezing my bicep until the beeps speed up and then it deflates.
“BP looks okay,” he says, “eyes are responsive, clear–” he stops, shining a light into my throat. “No damage visible to the throat.”
“You’re not a doctor yet.”
“Well he’s the one who dug a bullet out of your stomach and stitched you back up.” Salem says from somewhere in the room. “So how about you show him some respect?”
“Many thanks,” I quip attempting to sit up and everyone in the room jumps toward me. Clone Two pushes my shoulders back down to the bed and I growl, “No touchy!”
“You can’t sit up yet,” Clone One rumbles, “your wound needs more time to heal, and you’re going to be sore for weeks, possibly months.”
Swatting his words away I scoff, “It’s fiiiiine. It’s just a tiny sting.”
“It’s not, Menace,” Lincoln’s deep voice bounces off the walls, “and if we have to strap you back down, we will.”
“See, that’s the problem,” looking at Clone Two and rolling my eyes, I continue. “Lincoln’s got all these great ideas, but you all make them seem like bad ones.”
“Quinnly,” Clone One says, “You have to rest, if you don’t you could risk tearing the stitches and getting an infection. And let’s not forget the two inch laceration on the same side, also with stitches.”
“I can’t just lay in bed all day,” I whine like a petulant child. “I’ll go mad.”
“Hate to break it to you Wild One, but you’re already there.” Clone Two says, leaning against the wall by my head.
“This is bullshit,” I mutter as Clone One continues to give me instructions on how to be bored to death, as Lincoln fits my wrists into the restraints–in the least sexy way possible.
Slowly, people start to trickle out now that I’m securely tied to the bed and not at risk of tearing anything out.
Lincoln takes the seat beside me, pulling up a chair and showing me his phone. Naomi pops up on the screen and her eyes gloss over.
“UGH! Not you too!”
“You died Quinnly! As in, no pulse, no breath, no life… DEAD. You left me,” tears make paths down her cheeks as she yells. She’s in scrubs so she must be at work. “When Lincoln called, I was in surgery.”
“Did they live?” I ask, it’s the same question every time she performs.
She sighs with a hiccup and laugh, “Yes, I think he will.”
“Steady hands!” I shout, coughing when pain flares in my side.
“Need that pain medicine yet, Menace?” Lincoln asks, there’s an edge in his voice that I can’t place. Squinting my eyes, I watch him for any more hints at what he’s trying to say, but fall short. I guess my brain needs a few hours to reboot.
“I like the pain, Shadow, or did you forget?”
“Make her take whatever Tobias offers,” Naomi demands and I stick my tongue out at the screen. “Do you even know how long you’ve been in a medically induced coma?”
“A coma?!” I ask, “Cool, did I do anything funny, like talk in my sleep?”
“Quinnly!” Naomi shouts as Lincoln rumbles, “Menace.”
“You two still aren’t any fun,” if I could cross my arms, I would. As it is, I simply settle further into the bed.
“Two weeks,” she says, “two whole weeks of Tobias checking on you daily, making sure you didn’t die, while we all worried you may never wake up, and you’ve got jokes?”
“Uh, yes?”
She sighs on the other end, looking down at whatever notification pinged her. “I’ve got to go, I’ll call you tonight.” When she hangs up Linc pockets his phone and returns his full attention to me.
“What time is it?” I ask, looking around for a window.
“Lunch,” Lincoln clips.
“Oooo, can I have a Pop-Tart?” I ask, offering him my best smile. “Tacos might be too messy.”
Shaking his head, he pulls a tray over from a table I can’t see behind my head. There’s a covering on it, and when he moves it back there’s three things on the plate. Mashed potatoes which I will not eat, some green gloop that smells like something rotten, and a jiggly orange mound of jell-o.
Lincoln lifts a fork to the green stuff and I sink into the bed. “Uhm, no thank you.”
“It’s spinach, your body needs the vitamins.” His explanation isn’t enough for me to change my mind, so he taps the fork letting all the green stuff fall off and stabs the potatoes.
“I’m no nutritionist, but I don’t think my body needs either of those things.” Shaking my head, and firmly closing my lips, I refuse to eat something clumpy like that.
“You can’t have just sugar,” he sighs.
“Why not? My body likes it.”
He drops his head, but feeds me spoonfuls of the jell-o until it’s gone. Then he covers the plate and puts it back on the table.
“What else is on that table?” I ask, purely because I’m bored, and strapped to this bed. “Can I eat it?”
“Nothing,” he says, leaning back in the chair and watching me.
“I’m gonna go batshit in this bed,” I warn.
He only smiles as a result and continues to stare. I’m not sure how long it takes, but I eventually let sleep pull me under.
Every day is pretty much the same. I wake up, Clone One comes to check on me, Lincoln feeds me jell-o and I sleep. Over and over the cycle goes until, two weeks later, the jell-o isn’t laced with sleepy pills and Clone One helps me out of bed.
“You know, as much as I’ve enjoyed the sponge baths–” winking at Lincoln, I turn back to look at Clone One, “–I’d really like a shower.”
He chuckles, wrapping his arm around my back and gently pulling my arm around his neck. “Let’s see if we can manage.”
There’s a bathroom in here, a big one with rails for helping people stand or sit. Everything’s stark white which seems a little overzealous to me.
“Lincoln’s going to help you, if anything pulls or feels uncomfortable, I’ll come check,” he says, sitting me down on the bench in the shower.
The tiles are cool against my legs and I shiver.
Looking down, I smirk, they gave me baby-mama panties.
The ones made of mesh with big ass pads in them that they give you after you push out a spawn.
“Am I bleeding?” I ask, and Lincoln nods as Clone One applies the clear bandages over the two stitch wounds he told me about, then leaves. I guess everything else has healed, because nothing seems to feel bruised or broken.
Carefully, Lincoln helps me out of the big gown type thingy I’m in, and lifts me up gently enough to wiggle my panties off. It’s been a while, and my muscles are sore, but I think I can do this.
“I can do it,” I start but he only turns the water on and waits for it to heat up before walking over to me and lifting me off the bench. Turning around, he kneels on the tiles and situates my body on his raised knee using the tile wall as a backrest.
Pulling my tangled hair from its knot on my head, he runs his fingers through the tangles and puts shampoo on my scalp. The smell of peppermint fills my nose and I sigh into the way his fingers work.
Washing and repeating that step, I don’t protest anymore, instead I let him maneuver me however he needs me until the suds are gone from my hair and skin. Lifting me up and putting me back on the bench, he turns the water off and towels me dry, taking care not to press too hard on the stitches.
“Tobias is going to want to look more closely at these,” he says, running his finger over both wounds. “To make sure the stitches dissolved properly.”
“Dissolved where exactly?” I ask.
He smiles and shakes his head, “Let’s get you into some of your own clothes, hmm?”
The bra he uses isn’t mine, I don’t have one that zips in the front but damn, this is some comfy shit. Pulling on one of my t-shirts I found in the bin of an old thrift store, he lifts my foot as he holds up three tampons, all differing sizes. “I know you prefer these, but which one?”
It’s the right brand and everything. “I don’t know how bad it is.”
He glances down, and back up, “The pad was full when I took it off of you for the shower.”
“Ok then, that one,” booping the super tampon, he nods and lifts my thigh to drape it over his shoulder, which spreads me bare in front of him. Though I’m not aroused, this is like… a thing. You know, something that’s purely done out of selflessness, not obligation…
Just… intimate or whatever, I don’t know.
“Menace,” he’s swift in his movements, precise and efficient, and he’s already got a pair of panties sliding up my legs.
“Shit, can you do that every time I’m on my period?” I sigh, it feels nice not having to take care of myself.
He chuckles and presses a kiss to my neck, “Anytime.”
Back out in the room, Clone One waits with his doctor thingy around his neck. Walking is harder than expected, which is annoying, but I manage to make it to the bed by myself and sit, allowing Clone One to remove the sticky clear stuff and observe the wounds.
“The stitches look healed,” he says. “But now the hard part begins.” His chuckle makes me want to throat punch him.
“You cannot do any heavy lifting for at least another two weeks, and before you ask, no you can’t finish your kill board… yet.”
“Have I ever told you I like Clone Two better?”
He laughs, and nods to Lincoln who I’m sure has a whole million project point plan to keep me occupied and entertained forever.