Holding Out For A Hero

Jello Cups

There's a state between life and death where you can witness every action occurring yet can't participate. I've always heard about those unrealistic experinces on late night television and never did I believe them until now. Everything seemed to be happening so fast before me. One second I was curled up against Navy's warm chest then the next there were women in scrubs, calling out medical terms.

They forcefully ripped me away from the familiar warmth. My numb body thrown onto a steady cot and over the fuss of useless confusion, there was a heartbreaking sob. It was begging for a response everyone so desperately wanted to give.

"Please," Navy cried, "is she going to be okay?"

"Sir, I have to ask you to take a step back." A frantic young man in baby blue warned.

This didn't stop Navy from shouting over his thin shoulder, "Lavender, don't give up. Not on us."

There were a thousand responses I wanted to give but there was only one that felt right.

I haven't, I mouthed to the bright light above while heavy hands begun to pound onto my chest. The count down to three brought nothing except a loud constant beep.

I haven't, I repeated as the nurses threaten about a sudden flatline. They called demands. Each person yelling a bit higher than the last.

Rubber gloves were slapped on. Doctors ran to take over the scene. The nurses obeying orders begun to push the cot down a widen hallway.

Navy's supportive voice became distant and fuzzy. He grew less vivid in the moment. The blissful light drowned all the worries about him and my family into an everlasting void of comfort.

They'll be okay....

***

The sky looked absolutely breath-taking this morning. It was captivating how bright the sun shined through the hospital's foggy window. There were purple and pink clouds, decorating the tangerine view. It was odd how fascinating the world could look after suffering the grasps of death.

The doctor said I was lucky to live. A bullet grazed my left shoulder and the stab wound to my stomach was easily fixed within hours of intense surgery. If Navy Night hadn't brought me to them at the time he did, I would have died from internal bleeding- or at least that's what Dr. Shields said.

If the doctor's words weren't enough of a reminder to my debt to the hero, the constant sharp pain to my side was. It came and went every other hour. At one point it got so bad that a nurse begged me to take another dose of morphine.

I didn't. The medicine messed with my head. It made things too hard to remember when everything occurred only days ago.

There was a lot on my mind that I didn't want to forget. All I wanted was answers. Why did Benjamin stop me from killing Dacio? Why did he choose Sonya? Why did he tell Maxwell his secret identity? And why did he still sit outside my room?

I gripped onto the curtain. It was quite frustrating. He was close yet wouldn't muster enough courage to face me. What did I do to make him hate me that much?

The tears tried their hardest to fall but I wouldn't allow them. I shut my eyes tightly and released a deep breath. It wasn't the wisest choice due to the fact the second my stomach moved, the sharp pain returned.

"Ow," I hissed before leaning against the wall.

Maybe I shouldn't have said no to the Advil as well.