Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oɱɳιʂƈιҽɳƚ Jυʅყ 15ƚԋ Lσʂ Aɳɠҽʅҽʂ, CA
Four days had passed since the chaos at the gallery, and as the first rays of dawn filtered through the hospital room's blinds, Xaier's eyelids began to flutter. The beeping of the machines around him seemed to grow louder, almost in sync with the growing awareness in his mind. Slowly, his eyes opened, adjusting to the sterile white of the ceiling and the harsh light. He felt the weight of the bandages around his abdomen, the ache in his ribs, and the dull throb in his hip, all reminders of the bullets that had torn through his body.
Every small movement sent waves of pain coursing through his body, yet he continued to shift, trying to fully awaken. The smell of antiseptic filled his nose, mingling with the faint aroma of fresh flowers from a big bouquet placed by his bedside. His vision slowly sharpened, taking in the room's details—the IV drip standing by his bed, the heart monitor displaying his heartbeat, and a tray of untouched food left by a nurse.
Xaier's mind struggled to piece together the events that had led him here. But suddenly, memories of the gallery, the confrontation, and the sudden eruption of violence flitted through his consciousness. As he turned his head slightly, he noticed a chair pulled up close to his bed, a blanket carelessly draped over it, indicating someone had probably been sitting by his side.
His thoughts immediately went to Ivory. How long had he even been out for? Where was she?Was she safe? What happened to her after the shooting? The desperation to see her, to know she was okay, surged through him, momentarily eclipsing the pain of his injuries.
As Xaier continued to gain more and more consciousness, the weight of the situation at hand pressed down on him, and he clenched his jaw. Ready to get up from this bed and go find Ivy first, then he planned to go shoot up her husband once he made sure she was okay.
As Xaier's awareness sharpened, he instinctively tried to speak. Opening his mouth, he attempted to call out, but only a hoarse groan of pain emerged. The effort sent a sharp sting through his abdomen, reminding him of the severity of his injuries. He clenched his jaw in frustration.
Being shot wasn't anything new to him, he knew he'd live, but it didn't make the pain any less irritating. A constant reminder that the person who shot him was still out there somewhere didn't make it better either. That is, if his father hadn't heard anything about it yet.
Xaier's eyes darted around the room, searching for some way to get someone in without having to speak. Spotting the call button for the nurse, he reached out, and pressed the button repeatedly with a sense of urgency.
And after a few minutes of X forcefully slamming his thumb into the button, getting ready to curse out whoever walked in first, finally, the door to his room swung open, and a nurse hurried in, her expression a mix of professional concern and relief that he was awake.
