The Unfortunate Ride

Chapter 9

27/07/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 14:08 hours.

Spencer stared morosely at the bowl of soup on the bedside table that had been dragged in front of him. The soup looked more like dirty dishwater than whatever the hospital was claiming it to be. He had been disconnected from the liquid feed, though the nasogastric tube remained in place taped to his nose and cheek and draped over his ear. His stomach churned as he swirled the plastic spoon through the foul liquid in the bowl. The doctors had released him from the cuffs but had threatened Spencer with them if he felt the need to lash out again like he had done with Derek. Spencer opened and closed the fingers of his hand cradled by the sling. His fingertips felt numb from his arm being held in one position. He dropped the spoon into the bowl and slowly brought his hand over his chest and rubbed his aching shoulder. A small knock sounded on the door but Spencer did not raise his head to acknowledge his visitor.

"Go away," mumbled Spencer as he continued to massage his shoulder. His fingers gripped the velcro strap holding the sling around his neck and tore it open, allowing the straps to fall over his chest. Gritting his teeth, Spencer slowly tugged his arm free of the sling and cast the navy material to one side. With more freedom to move, Spencer curled his right arm around his left upper arm.

"You're supposed to wear that for six weeks." Spencer turned his head to face his visitor. Emily lowered herself into the chair and crossed her legs. She folded her hands on her knee. She bobbed her booted foot.

"What do you want, Emily?" asked Spencer with a sigh. He grimaced as he tried to stretch out his arm.

"I thought that would be obvious, Reid." Emily craned her neck to gain a view of the untouched food on the table, "No appetite?"

"No."

"You should try or they're just going to tube feed you again." Spencer let out a long frustrated breath through his nose, then started to fumble with the tape holding the tube in place. Emily frowned as she watched her friend yank the yellow tube out of his nose, retching as he did so. He threw the tube to the end of the bed. A trickle of blood exited his left nostril and over his parched lips. Emily sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now, what was that meant to accomplish, Spencer?" asked Emily darkly.

"Don't pretend like you give a damn, Emily." Emily's eyes flashed with anger. She used the arms of the chair to push herself to her feet and hovered menacingly over the stubborn man in the bed. With a shove, she sent the table skidding across the floor. Soup splashed over the sides of the bowl and on the lacquer table top. Spencer's eyes followed the table, then snapped up at the woman stood over him with her hands balled into fists. Emily forced the man down into the mattress with her palms pressed into his shoulders. Spencer yelped at the pain that shot through his injured shoulder.

"You need to snap the hell out of this, Spencer! Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" Spencer struggled against Emily's hold.

"You're hurting me!"

"And you're hurting all of us! We spent every minute of every day sat here beside you when you were in a coma. So don't you dare say that we don't care!" Tears welled in Spencer's eyes, both with sorrow and with the sheer agony Emily was causing him.

"Emily, I should have died! I coded twice while I've been here!"

"And yet you're still alive! Stop moping around like a whiny little bitch and get yourself well enough to get out of here!" Spencer's chest heaved against Emily's soft hands, his eyes wide with terror. He never imagined that Emily would ever speak to him that way, let alone inflict pain on him to get through to him, "Don't make me regret saving your ass from that prison."