Death's Door

Last night was a long and painful night indeed, one that may never vacate my memories. From dusk to dawn, I was in either emotional turmoil or in excruciating physical pain, and the center of attention of New York City and possibly the world. I was their savior, the Good Samaritan, the heroic beast who risked it all to save hundreds of innocent lives from a terrorist attack and the blast of a bomb that threatened to destroy everything in sight.

All I wanted was to prove once and for all that gargoyles are not evil. We are protectors, and we would risk our lives to keep the humans safe. The slightest show of gratitude would have been enough for me, but instead, I am repaid with the opposite: insults and half-truths. Is some respect and peace of mind that much to ask for? The very thought of being the hero of the city does not make me feel better, not in a thousand years. I was at the mercy of humans, helpless, writhing in agony all the way to sunrise, staring at the clock all night long, and longing for sunrise to heal my wounds. It was a horrible night indeed, but not horrible in its entirety. Elisa never left my side and she comforted me in my sorrow. My clan also helped me whenever they could, even if they only managed to worsen my condition.

Through it all, nothing on the face of this Earth could make me regret saving those humans, for it feels wonderful to help others, to be of use. I could not ever deny that it warms my heart to know that someone can live to see another day because of my intervention. Not even hearing that some would rather die engulfed in flames before being saved by a gargoyle could make me regret saving their lives. All the suffering I went through and a near-death experience was worth it. I have no regrets.

I was taken to a hospital after almost half an hour of seemingly endless, excruciating agony. I wanted to remain home until dawn, with my family and friends, but my clan refused to let me succumb and pass away. To my surprise, the doctors treated me well. They made things much better for me, both physically and emotionally. I heard no insults and no lies. They kept me alive and out of pain. Perhaps all the kindness was due to the fact that Xanatos paid them a considerable amount of money to make me feel better in every way. I suppose I will never know the answer to that.

All I could see were nurses and doctors tending to my wounds in the haze I was in, wrought by pain. My veins and arteries were filled with medicine and sedatives and my body was connected to all kinds of machines and IV bags that supported my life until dawn. I did not know what I was going through and I was confused and even frightened of all the harmful things they could do to me with a knowledge I did not possess.

All I know and that I am sure of is that they fixed everything that was wrong with me. They sliced and drilled into me to reset the bones and stitch all the wounds. I had been dreaming good and bad dreams, but they turned into a dreadful, real nightmare when I regained consciousness. I found myself surrounded by cables, tubes, and machines. I felt miserable, groggy, and disoriented because of the medicine I was given.

I would have been very comfortable if it had not been for the tube that reached into my lungs, ventilating my lungs with precious oxygen. They had also braced my neck, and it was keeping me still. My muscles and bones were aching, though the pain was not as excruciating as before. At first, I hurt so much that I would be paralyzed with pain, but after the surgery, the pain could easily be ignored.

I am sure that the entire world heard about my accident and about my heroic acts to save the humans. Look at the newspapers for example, all of these piled up next to me. I do not know how to react to all of this. Should I be thrilled? I made the headlines of the most important newspapers, and a few even thanked me for saving those humans. Should I be frustrated? Most of the things depicted on them are half-truths, and nearly all of Manhattan believes them, never caring to seek for the truth.