The steady beep of machinery and the repressed sound of a crowd cheering were the first coherent reality checks I was in fact, very much, alive. Because as far as heaven went, I don't think it sounded like this. The smell of chemical cleaning supplies was strong, if not potent, and managed to wake me up real quick. As all my senses abounded, I realized I must've been lying on a mattress, given it was soft and cushioned, covered by a thin blanket so as to chase away the room's lingering draft.
My eyes were greeted by the flickering dim florescence above, captured by a plain white ceiling. I blinked a couple of times, so as to adjust to the light, and observed my surroundings. It was evident I was in some sort of hospitalized room. On the wall across from me was a mounted tv with a birds eye view of a football game playing. Beneath was a small linen cabinet. Off to my right was a vital's monitor that quietly beeped with several slats displayed. Near it was an IV-stand with liquid pouches and dangling tubes, all interconnected leading toward me.
In a lounge chair beyond it all was, to my surprise, Charlie. Haunched forward, his elbows on his knees and hands intertwined, his eyes were completely glued to the tv set. My mouth was dry and crackled, but I managed a low-raspy, "Charlie?"
He looked over immediately and stood up. Relief shone in his tired eyes and as he went to approach my bed, he grabbed something from my bedside. "Hey, kid," a soft smile graced his lips, and I realized in his hands was a styrofoam cup, "Here. This should help with the thirst." He directed the straw to my mouth which I took gingerly.
As soon as I took a few sips, my mouth instantly felt better. After a couple of more sips, Charlie finally retracted the cup, I lifted my hand to find it was bandaged. When I looked down, I found my leg was also immobilized, stringed up, "What--"
"Hey, don't try moving too much El. You've been through a lot. You should take it easy," Charlie reminded me, his words taut with exhaustion.
The pop of the PPQ firing. James' body exploding. Blood dripping down my wrist. Kimi getting shot. Edward sucking out the venom.
"How--?"
Charlie sighed, almost as if the whole story confounded him, or veritably wracked him with guilt for some reason. He rubbed his chin in grim thought. "Someone broke into the house and tore the place apart. Kimi told me she shot them a couple times, and I guess were trying to steal some furniture pieces, and Kimi tried stopping them, but got shot and I guess they managed to get out," he let out another heavy sigh, disbelief apparent in his eyes, "You tried intervening, Kimi said, and you fell down the stairs on accident and broke your leg trying to come down and I guess you just passed out from all the pain. . .Kimi told me she called the ambulance the second the robber got out and the rest is well. . .Kimi's in the room across--she's asleep right now, but she's okay. Carlisle said the bullet thankfully wasn't severe. But you've been out for twelve hours so far. For a moment, I was worried you weren't gonna wake up," Charlie pressed his lips firmly together, suddenly shaking his head and scoffed in disbelief, "Jesus, I keep thinking if I had just been home, none of this--"
