Manifestation

8: Phase One~Pre Symptom Manifestation

"Carrie, can you get me another IV bag?" A soft voice said.

I felt someone stroking my face.

"How long will she be out?" A familiar voice said.

"I don't know. Hard to tell. Soon. She was pretty dehydrated."

"How is the boy?"

"He has a concussion. He will be fine if we keep an eye on him."

My eyes opened slowly. They felt like they were being pulled down by weights.

I finally opened them and saw my mother leaning over me.

"She's awake." She kissed my forehead.

"Ryan." I croaked.

"He is fine."

I took a sigh of relief. I dozed off again.

When I woke up, Jim was leaning over me. I tried to get up. There are bandages all across his face and he has a few brusies scattered across his skin.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He stroked my cheek and I lifted a limp hand to push him away.

"Don't touch me." I moan.

He pulled his hand away. His index finger was in a splint.

"You gave him a concussion." I said airily. My throat was dry and crackly.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, you're not. Save your breath." I coughed.

"I really am sorry for hurting you."

"Just go away."

My eyelids got droopy and I fell asleep again.

When I woke up this time, there was a plate of food next to my bed.

I got enough strength to push myself up and take a bite of an apple. The moment my tongue felt the sweetness of the juice, I remembered how hungry I really was. I devoured it and started to eat the chicken. I scarfed down the rest of the meal.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My bare feet touched the cold marble floor and I tried to stand up. I almost collapsed but caught my bearings on the bed. I had been changed into a dull hospital gown. I turned and looked in a mirror on the wall. I had a large purple bruise on my cheek from where Luther slapped me. A few scratches scattered across my forehead and there was a bump on my forehead. My face was pale and I had bags under my eyes. I looked hideous.

I stumbled out into the hall of beds seperated by curtains. A wheelchair sat a foot away from me and I plopped myself into it. My weak arms spun the wheels and I peeked into every small bed compartment. Most of them were empty, old people with respitory aid laid in the beds that were filled. I reached the end of the rows and saw Ryan laying in one of the beds. His face was the same as it was the day of the fight. I wheeled over to him and gently touched his face. His body jerked subtly. I took in a sharp breath. It was good to see that he was alive.

"Hey, baby." He croaked.

I put a hand over my mouth. I held his hand. He squeezed it lightly.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Like a pile of crap." He chuckled.

"Oh good." I laughed back.

I lifted his hand up and kissed it.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

"I guess so." I ran my thumb over his bruised knuckles.

"You should've let me shoot him."