The Mnemophobic

Chapter 18

I gasped for air between my cries holding a chunk of glass that stuck out from my leg. My attempts at gathering some, even a little courage to pull it out was left undone as I gave in to the pain. With every movement the glass seemed to rip further in to muscle. The floor shook from the vibration of my phone that was a good foot in front of me. Trying to keep my leg perfectly still I tried ever so hard to reach for it but it was no good. I had another 15 seconds to try and attend the call. I let out a deafening scream, rolled over and jumped towards the phone before coming crashing down on to broken glass again. I reached to accept and shouted the address trying to keep my voice as clear as possible.

My vision saw a strong jet of black cover it. I vigorously shook my head to keep myself awake. I heard footsteps from the door. Finally my saviour, I cried, "Please hel-help me." I heard a faint reply. "Halo?"

"Please, in here, please.." I tried to lure him in but what I thought was going to be the face of my saviour turned out to be a drunkard who could barely keep his footing. "Let me." He said.

He came forward but collapses to his knees beside me. "Call for help, please take my phone, help.." He shushed me, my eyes kept looking for some sort of sanity on his wrinkled pale face but there was none. He took my phone and spread his fingers through my hair. " I got you, sssshhh, I knew you'd come.."

I lost all sense of hope and let the pain make sense of what was left of me. I curled up as much as I could. There was no one, my savior was now my greatest threat. I whimpered slowly and prayed not knowing if anyone would be listening.

"Get off her!" A voice boomed pulling the fingers from my head away. What followed seemed to be a stand off where finally the drunkard was beaten away from me. I could no longer remain conscious. All I felt were arms that cupped me against a stone hard chest where I rested my head. I could tell he was having problems carrying me, my weight was pulled on to one arm more than the other. Despite the unbalanced way I was carried, or the pain in my leg, I drifted off and everything went black.

The beeping of the monitor slowly faded in to my head as I regained consciousness after what seemed like years. I groaned and opened my eyes to the plain white ceiling towering over the bed. As I tried to move my arms I could feel the needles inside me preventing that from happening. I moved my hands to force the needles from within me when I was stopped halfway.

"Don't you dare." He warned.

" Ryan!" I pulled him down and wrapped my free arm around his neck. He helped me sit properly and returned the hug. "I'm not gonna ask, but don't do that again. I need you." He whispered in to my ear.

His words flooded my eyes but I blinked quickly to prevent them from letting out tears. He explained to me how Chase saved me from.a second disaster and took me to the hospital, it wasn't long that I had been here, Chase was getting his arm stitched because he cut himself with the glass. From what Ryan told me I figured that he did not know about the shadowy figure in Yuni's room. I was double minded in deciding whether I should mention it or not but I figured I should discuss it with Chase; If he was thinking I was there to find closure then so be it.

The wound on my leg had been disinfected, stitched and dressed, but despite all of this it still hurt. Soon Grandpa, Beth and even Dawn came to see me and the mnemophobic, for a while disappeared. None of them asked what I was doing there, nor lay down hard ground rules or restrictions like I imagined them to, which made the realization that the attack was thought to be a mere accident even more. But it was real, to me it was very real.

An obese nurse stepped in to my room with a pencil hanging from her mouth. "Huu huwa...Oh sorry, left that thing danglin'!" She removed the pencil and came up to me with her reports and southern dipped accent. "So Miss Taylor, took a fall at the edge of town? Best not go there anymore." She winked and continued in a slightly more professional tone addressing everyone this time. "Her stitches will dissolve in her skin as the wound gets better, she had half a standard bag of blood transferred to her and if you want, she can be discharged within the hour."