𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 {𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 '𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭' 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲}

7 | out

I slouch in the seat, struggling to keep my head up. Ghost notices, using his left hand to reach over my body. He cups the side of my face, pulling my head onto his shoulder.

"Just don't fall asleep, okay?" He says softly. I felt half unconscious, like I was dissociating from reality.

Then, he takes my wrist, putting it on his lap before he intertwines our fingers. It was the comfort in this moment I needed, and even though I just wanted to drift off to sleep on his shoulder, I knew I couldn't.

I felt numb, just the surge of energy rippling through my body as blood slowly pumped out into the shirt. I wish we had been smarter, thought of all the possibilities that could have happened, but we didn't. We were too cocky in our ability to get this done quickly. Especially me.

It was embarrassing that such a thing that could have been simply avoided happened. And to me too.

The drive was silent, the sound of wheels against the pavement and Ghost's steady breathing in my ear. It felt like hours before Rodolfo finally slows down, pulling up to the side of a hospital. Ghost takes my head off his shoulder, exiting the car before manhandling me out.

He brings me to my feet, "Can you walk?"

"Of course, I can walk," I tell him breathily.

"I was just checking."

He slings my arm around his shoulder again, and we walk slowly into the hospital. Rodolfo is the next to get out.

They both take ahold of me, escorting me into the hospital. The first thing we do is go to the front desk.

"She's shot. Get her into a room, now," Ghost demanded. She looked at the masked man, then at me.

If she could go maybe a little faster I wouldn't be fading as I was right now.

She picks up the phone, typing in a number.

"We've got a woman on level 1, appears to be shot somewhere on the chest."

"She needs a room now," Ghost says to her.

"They would like to get her checked out immediately."

Ghost groans, frustrated.

She puts the phone down, "Doctors will be down soon."

"Soon?! We need them now! If you didn't hear me the first time she has been shot. With a gun?" His attitude was through the roof.

"I heard you sir, but we are very full right now."

He looks from left to right, "Doesn't look like it."

"Sir, I understand your conc–"

The elevator doors open and four men run out with a stretcher. They were somehow faster than the dumb receptionist.

"I don't need that," I tell them, holding a hand up as they approach us, they push Ghost and Rodolfo off me, grabbing at me to get me on the stretcher.

"I can walk!" I yell.

"Ma'am please just get on the stretcher. It will be easier for all of us."

I look to Ghost, asking for help through my half-closed eyes, "Just get on, please."

I sigh, and then help me onto the stretcher. I lay down, staring up at the bright lights as they wheel me back into the elevator.

—
6 hours later
—

They had immediately put me under inspection for the wound then put me under anesthesia to stitch it up and mend to the broken flesh where Ghost had dug the bullet out.

I wake up in a hospital bed, the walls and floor and blankets around me a blinding white. It had to be at least 10 am.

I look to my right to see Ghost laying on the bench, a small blanket over him as he used his arm as a pillow. He had different clothes on, yet still the same mask. He wore a black t-shirt that clung to his arms as well as a pair of scrub pants that a doctor probably gave him.

Then, Rodolfo walks in the door, and his eyes widen, "Holy shit you're awake!"

Ghost jerks awake, and he looked like he had just seen a ghost, "Cuda," He simply says.

I laugh, "Good morning, Ghost. Morning, Rodolfo."

He scrambles told his feet, taking a quickened step over to me, "How are you feeling? Are you hurting? Tired?"

I chuckle, moving my shoulder a little. It still hurt to move, even if it was barely, "Just a little sore in that region."

"But you're all good?"

I nod, "Yes, I'm alright."

He exhales, relieved, "Cuda you have no idea how much blood you lost, I really was scared."

"Ghost? Scared? Never," I joke.

He shakes his head before looking at Rodolfo. I wonder where the others were?

"You were out for a couple hours," Rodolfo says.

I smile, like they were crazy, "You guys are overreacting. I only got shot in the tit. That's what all that fat is for."

Ghost huffs, "You're lucky it didn't hit a bone. Or worse, an artery."

I shrug, "I've had worse. Really, I'm fine. Plus, it would be a cool scar to show off."

I felt energized, like I could quite literally do anything.

"When do I get out of here?" I ask.

"Well, the doctors have to examine you to see if you can use the muscle."

"I could never use my tit muscle in the first place? What do they think I am? The Rock?"

"Cuda be serious, come on. They need to see if you can move your arm."

"It's a muscle injury," Rodolfo says, "You got shot in the pectoralis major. Shit, Cuda, if you aren't able to move your arm, then we can't have you on the force."

I squint my eyes, furrowing my brows, "What? Why? There's plenty of people who are armless in the military. What's the problem with me?"

"The muscle that was injured helps you bear weight, and rotate your arm. If it's injured enough, the whole arm is paralyzed and you wouldn't be able to keep yourself elevated, therefore hurting your spine as well.

"That's fucking ridiculous! You can't just kick me out if it doesn't work! I took out the majority of those guys out. I ran that mission."

"We're not kicking you out," Ghost says.

"We're simply letting you know what would happen," Rodolfo finishes.