Everything in my life goes wrong. Everything. But, when I'm with my friends, I feel happy. They don't care if I mess up, they'll support me either way. I try to keep a happy face for them, but most of the time, when they're not by me, my face falls...
"I think I'm becoming addicted to getting tattoos," I say to Mick, who's sitting with me in the living room. I'm sitting upside down on the couch while he isn't, but it's easier to see him like this. I mean, he has to look down either way.
"Why do you think that," he asks.
"I have 16 tats on me already, and I want more," I say.
"That's not uncommon for people in our profession. Especially people like you; with a really high pain tolerance," he says.
"I was thinking of getting one on my lower back. Something that I said before and still hold to it," I say.
"What is it," he asks.
"You'll see. Either way, I'm getting it," I say. I should become a tattoo artist, but I love being an ICU nurse.
"When? I want to come along," he says.
"Saturday after I wake up. So probably noon," I say.
I was already in my scrubs, I was just waiting until a half hour before my shift starts. I work nights so I have time with the guys in the day. I get home at 8 and take an hour nap, then spend the rest of the day with them. I get the weekends off, so I usually sleep in until noon, then get up because of lunch. Thank god the hospital let me show my tattoos, otherwise I would have to cover them. People actually like to see the forearm one and get a good laugh out of it.
"What time is it? I can't read the clock," I say. He looks at it and reads it, looking back.
"Time for you to go. Have fun," he says. I flip to my feet and put on my new shoes, going great with my black scrubs.
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"I'm leaving! Whoever wants a hug come get it," I call. Sid runs to me and jumps up, clinging like his usual self.
"Have fun," he says.
He lets go and I grab my bag, it having a blanket in case I get a nap in the on-call room. I leave and hop in my little car, a cute and old purple Volkswagen beetle. It still has the front trunk on it. I start it up and drive to the hospital, not feeling my best. My legs have been hurting a lot lately, but it's been going on since the end of the Iowa tour. I didn't tell the guys because I didn't think much of it, but now it hurts enough that after my shift I can barely walk up the stairs. Hope I don't collapse in my shift again.
-after shift-
I walk in quietly and almost cry from the pain. I feel like someone submerged my lower legs in acid like my shoulder. It's healed, but it's not pretty. I set my bag down and drop to my knees and hands, letting a few tears slip out. Unfortunately, Corey was up for some reason. He hears me drop to the ground and rushes to me, sitting on his knees in front of me.
"What wrong? Why are you crying," he asks.
"My legs. They hurt really bad," I say.
"How bad," he asks.
"From 1 to 10? 23," I say.
"Oh, that's not good. How long has this been going on," he asks.
"Since the end of the Iowa tour," I say. It feels like someone's stabbing me with a dull knife.
"Here," he says. He picks me up bridal style and carries me upstairs to my room.
"Be warned, it's a mess in my room," I say, a smile on his face.
"It can't be that bad," he says. He opens my door with his foot and pauses, shocked that I, a person who makes us clean every weekend, could let it get this bad.
"Told you," I say. He goes into my room anyway, laying me in my bed.
"Just sleep. You need it," he says as he covers me up. He didn't need to tell me twice.
-Corey's POV-
She basically passes out after I cover her up, so I walk out. I close the door after me and walk down the stairs, it being the weekend. She could sleep in for the whole day, and I think that's her plan. I walk into the kitchen and see the other guys conversing there, making it the perfect time to tell them what happened.
"Something happened to Liz," I say. They all stop and look at me with worried eyes.
"You're lying, right," Shawn asks.
"No. She came home, and I hear a thud. I rush to her and she's on her hands and knees in front of the door. She was crying. You guys know her, and when she cries, it's bad," I say.
"What's hurting her? If it's a guy, I'm killing him," Sid says.
"She said it was her legs. That's all she said. She did say, though, that on a scale from 1 to 10, her pain was 23," I say.
"She has to go to the hospital for that. I'm not trusting her to go there, so one of us has to go with her," Joey says. They all look at me.
"You want me to go," I ask, surprised that even Sid, the one who hugs her every day when she wakes up and when she leaves for her shift, wanted me to go.
"You know her best. You were there," Chris says.
"But-"
"Corey. Go with her," Craig says. That startled everyone, including me. I've never heard him speak, but his voice was so nice. No wonder Evangeline loves him.
"Well if you spoke, it must be set in stone," I say. He nods and I hear someone who should be asleep walking down the stairs.
"Aren't you supposed to be asleep," I ask.
"I'm an old German woman. I don't sleep off pain," she says. She's definitely stubborn, that's for sure.
"Great! That means I can take you to the hospital earlier," I say.
"Wait, no. Hold on, wait," she says as I drag her to the door. She was already changed into her regular clothes, so I could just take her car to the hospital.
