Say My Name [ Teacher-Student Romance -- Robert Downey Jr ]

Ch.73 - Visceral Pain

First off, Happy Canadian Thanksgiving! Secondly, I am still writing chapter 77 and I am so stuck. Oh my gosh, I have, like, two weeks to get it right and move on to pre-write more. Ahhhh trying my very hardest guys. Anywhos. Enjoy!!
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Striking jolts of electric pain snap up towards her kneecap. Weakly willing the ten digit touch away, swiftly traveling along the plains of her leg. Burns her gut, twisting a staggering heat in her being, though numbed by the persistent shaking and shivering rattling through brittle bones and withered muscles. Contracting in a stretched out groan, something gliding along the perspiration pebbled along her sticky sweaty forehead.

An all consuming darkness persistently preventing her from seeking out a clear understanding of what's happening. To allow her panicked gaze to swiftly take in her surroundings, to make sense of it all. It's all muddled, watered down thoughts, mulling endlessly on loop with agonizing coughs that harbour a throaty thrum inside her leaky chest.

"Stop moving." Echoes through the canal of her drizzled brain matter. Exhaustion uncomprehending of the kindness behind the trying touch. Easing her discomfort, but she's scared and tired and people are touching her, yet this exertion is becoming a sluggish last attempt for freedom. "Can you get her to lay still?"

Swirling colours behind her clenched lids, drowsily turning away from the (perceived as) hostile touch. Something cushioned under her back. A wafting smell of burning pumpkin candles drifting into her pallet. Then she's shifting, and it all goes dark again, and she's trying to keep upright, use her muscles but she slumps into a familiar firm embrace strongly scenting of sweat, mint, and Robert.

"Doc, no." Something rough and wet licking along her drooping arm. Panted breaths and a scruffy hairy face nuzzling at her palm. "Go, bed. Doc, bed time." Then it's gone, replaced with that slender hold around her leg, lifting her burning appendage up at a pained angle. "Ready?" Fingers interlace with hers, a grazing touch along the top of her hand, caressing. "Three. Two. One."

Her world whites out, knee buckling and an awful popping sound. Back arched in discontent, she whimpers as her world is brought back to desolate silence.

More, more whispers whispering. Body shifting on it's own accord, albeit by someone else's hands. Robert's hands. She can tell, she can tell with the lingering warmth, touch tingling as a smoothly stroked line travels down to the jut of her hip. Carefully circling the bone, continuing lazy lines drawing down her thigh.

Drilling questions digging into every crevice of recent memory. Slightest of condescending tones tinging in on the direct play of words. "--should be at a proper hospital."

Barely managing to peel open her blue eyes, with slow heavy blinks. Matching the discontent to the voice quietly spoken within the space around her. "I know, but, it's complicated." Purple ruffled drapes ceasing the stormy light from shining in on the den like aura created with charcoal grey walls. Cheap picture frames hanging primly on the wall. Dim, dim light, and white carpeted floors. Blinking away the tears that needle her orbs.

Something about, about a concussion. And her leg. And Molly, but it's too quiet, too conserved against her ears to piece together. "...better chance of surviving cold waters than warm. Especially children." Thats a mans voice, familiar, and soft. George. "Adults are less resilient though, and that's why I think she should be in proper care."

"I thought you were smart McDowney." There is very little humour in the tone, and peering up, streaking platinum blonde hair knotted atop her head, Izzie doesn't look anything but disappointed. Arms crossed and gaze calculating.

What she comes to realize is a bed, dips under readjusting weight. "I'm sorry to include you guys in this fuck up of mine but I'm trying my best here." She's on her back, head tilted to the side and it's Robert's back that's in view just sat by her side. Long lines stretched through unfamiliar fabric. His hair tussled yet still wet. Still drying. And she's shivering, as if she just realized she's still in her sticky clothes. "I'm here because she trusts you two more than a building full of strangers and needles. She would have panicked and injured herself further and still kept refusing help, okay?"