Everything seems so surreal that this can not be happening right now, everything was fine a couple of hours ago, but now it's all crumbling to pieces. My thoughts are scattered, and glimpses of moments shared between the surgeon flicker in the back of my mind. From the beginning to when we first met, when they scooped me up from the mob of strangers huddling around me after my hand dislocated for the first time. Then to the moment when we went to the park together, when they stood off to the distance in the shade. How I wished they would play with me. A glimpse of us together standing under the salt and pepper sky, when they first gave me my nickname. How that was the first time I had felt like myself and how they thought I was equal to, if not more so to the stars.
A glaze covers my eyes as these memories persist, and my grasp on reality slips away. Another memory sparks, and this time it was when I came home aware of who I was, how they explained to me what I was, and what that entailed. Then the moment of me shutting the door and locking it behind me for the first time, and then all the times that preceded it, how they used to sit outside my door while I cried behind it and how they would listen and talk with me, how these talks became more and more distant as I spiraled out of control. Then tonight, when I screamed and abraded them with all of my pent up emotions and damaging thoughts. I will always remember their eyes, their round iridescent grey eyes that pierced into my thoughts and how they fought back the tears and stood firm so they wouldn't hurt me. I need to the right the wrong; I can't have that be the last memory I have of them.
I weave in and out of traffic, the cars becoming nothing but blurred streaks of color and the rules of the traffic lights and stop signs not about me; the mechanic's arms squeeze my ribs tightly. She doesn't tell me to slow down, though. I clench the accelerator and hear the engine roar, and we jerk forward. My head dips down, and my eyes widen, my brain processing everything in milliseconds, picking up on every minute detail it can. The street signs that streak past us, the vague lettering I can decipher from the seconds I read it, my brain putting together the pieces to a pixelated puzzle.
"Take a right!" the mechanic shouts in my ear, and I shift my entire body weight to the right and hear the tires squeal loudly against the road and a black cloud of smog plumes around us. I slam my fingers around the accelerator once again, and we bolt straight to the right. As the vibrantly painted blue and gold hospital sign comes into view, pixels rampantly blur my vision, followed by scattering bursts of stinging agitations radiate inside of my skull. Instinctively, I clutch my head which causes the mechanic to let out a high pitch yelp, she presses her body against mine, and her hands take the steering wheel, and she steers us off to the side of the road. Our balance is off, and we start to tip to one side, but I can only process so many things at once and react to only a few things at a time. I treat the sensations of us descending towards the ground, my body being wrapped up in a firm embrace, and then the next thing I know I am rolling on pebbled tar, my body curling itself into the chest of the mechanic, and we tumble together until our momentum diminishes and we collapse openly on the ground.
I roll onto my elbows, my hands still clutching my head. Flares of memories I didn't even know existed start flooding my mind. I try to crawl, to get up, to keep going, but the memories are debilitating. I crumple onto the ground and scream out in agony. My whole body feels as if it was pushed through a glass door, and the pieces shattered and embedded themselves in my skin, and every time I move, they dig deeper and deeper, grinding and masticating my muscles.
Pictures fade in and out in seconds, a car driving towards me, I am on a gurney, I see blood pouring out of my veins, my body lacerated and deformed, I know a person, they are helping me, I take their hand. Their eyes, they're a silvery grey. It's the surgeons. They saved me.
"Bete's!" a muffled cry catches my attention.
"Bete's! Are you okay?!" I can't see clearly, but I can make out the shape of the mechanic as she kneels beside me. Her sturdy grip takes hold of my body, and I rise to a sitting position. The mechanic brushes back my hair, and I catch sight of an extended deep cut on the side of her cheek. It's dripping copper, and it's starting to collect on her leather jacket.
"Babe-" I jerk around and give her a once over to assess the damage.
"I am so sorry!" my chest aches again at the sight of her mangled and torn up clothes and skin.
From what I can gather, all she has is the cut on her cheek; somehow, she managed to stay relatively unscathed on the outside, I don't know about any internal damage though.
"Babe, it's okay!" she reassures, her eyes search mine, and she presses against my skin to feel for any broken bones. My shirt is covered in deep copper stains; my skin is gashed and torn in random places. Some cuts are shallow, some are deep, and others are just abrasions that look as if someone pressed an iron to my skin.
When she reaches my ribs, I wince in pain and cradle my side.
"Bruised, not broken" she takes off her jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I slip my arms through the sleeves.
"I wear leather for a reason," of course; she would tell me this now.
"Do you want to keep going?" she asks in a concerning tone. I nodded. She rises to her feet and holds a hand out for me to take. I reach up and notice my hand has lost its exterior casing, but I don't hesitate to take the mechanic's hand and allow her to lift me to my feet.
"Any internal damage?" I breathe out, my lungs stinging with each breath I take.
"I think I broke my collar bone, but that's it" she slips the neckline of her shirt down, and a deep brown and yellow discoloration spreads itself across her chest.
"Okay. At least we can live with these-" I say, trying to stay positive.
"It might be broken beyond repair," she grimaces.
"Looks like I'll just have to love you even more than-" I jokingly say, and that does get a meek grin out of her.
I pat her on the back and then look over at the bike. It's letting off a dark charcoal smoke, and a faint hissing sound is coming from one of the tires.
"Guess we can't change our mind now-" I wince and rub the back of my neck.
"Guess not-" she exhaustingly sighs.
The mechanic sucks in a deep breath, I see her nervous energy rise, but before it spills over, I take her hand.
"Together," I squeeze her hand tightly, and she shakes her head in agreement. Then with hesitant strides, we start jogging towards the hospital.
YOU ARE READING
The Mechanics of Us
Teen FictionHuman DNA is composed of stars. Stars that have been broken down into nanoparticles that have dispersed themselves throughout the universe; they harness the energy of the cosmos and transitively embedded their limitless potentials in every fiber of...
