The Black Eye

Hospital

Chapter 4
Hospital

I spent the next few minutes at Natalie's side checking her pulse and waving curious kindergarteners back behind their teacher. I know that since I am only 13, I should leave The Little Mermaid to the all-capable Mrs. Wallis. I try, but I can't seem to grasp control of my body long enough to get up. I can't even draw my eyes away from her. It feels as if she has some kind of magnetic pull. Besides, Mrs. Wallis has not asked me to leave.

Sirens cry louder in the distance, promising help. I tell Natalie the good news, even though I know she can't hear me.

An ambulance pulls into the parking lot and births two muscular men carrying a stretcher. A third man follows them and they rush towards us. The kindergarteners make way for them. It dawns on me how strong they are. They could kill her with their bare hands, I think. I stand up and spread my arms to protect The Little Mermaid.

The third man notices my discomfort. "Wait in the ambulance," he says to me, "She'll meet you there. Don't worry. We aren't going to hurt her. We're here to help."

They don't wait for me to move. The man puts one arm under her knees and the other under her neck. Her head dangles. He lays The Little Mermaid limp on the stretcher and the men carry her anxiously to the ambulance.

Why can't I move? I just stand there, watching them leave with her; the one I have loved since the first grade.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump, startled. "Thanks, Mrs. Wallis," I say. Out of my daze, I sprint after The Little Mermaid.

The men lift Natalie into the ambulance. They step back briefly to let me crawl in after her before slamming the doors and shutting us both in. The lights are dim and I can barely see. The engine shakes the ambulance. I hear the familiar sirens blare just above my head. They're doing this for her, I think, they're taking time out of their day and using one of their ambulances just for her; just for The Little Mermaid. All because I got help. All because George attacked her for getting him in trouble. Fire burns in my chest. All because I wasn't man enough to stop him before she saved me; before she got hurt.

"This is all my fault," I tell her softly. Tears dancing atop my eyelids.

"No. It. Is. Not," commanded a woman's voice. I had not noticed the nurse standing to my right. She came to sit across from me with a briefcase of supplies. She popped open the case and pulled out a few wet wipes. She dragged them over Natalie's bloody face, cleaning it ever so slowly, turning the wipe red. The nurse lifted her crystal blue eyes towards me. "I'm Sarah, by the way," she said, "What's your name?"

"Matthew," I replied. I wiped my eyes. My beating heart continues to pound against my chest. "Can I help?"

She nodded her head and passed over one of her many wipes. "Do not rub, be gentile and steer clear of the stick," she warned.

I place the wipe on her cheek and top it with my hand. I ponder over how to proceed. Deciding a way that wouldn't rub too much, I crumpled it up in my hand and began to wipe away her blood. It was sticky and dry, but yet, beautiful.

"What's her name?" The nurse motioned to The Little Mermaid.

"Natalie."

"How long have you known her?" 

"Since 1st grade," my voice shook, "We're in 8th now."

"I see." Sarah returned her focus to Natalie.

I decided it would be good to try and distract myself from my pain for Natalie. I looked to the nurse. I was never any good at guessing ages, but to me, Sarah looked about 97. She was frowning, etching deep lines into her tan skin. She smelled of smoke, hinting that her hands have held a cigarette. I gazed at Sarah's smooth hand as she cares for Natalie. Maybe I over guessed her age just a little bit, I thought, her age is probably closer to 37... Maybe.

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We soon finish getting all the blood off of Natalie's features, except for a little bit around the stick, when I had finally calmed down. I had just noticed the blood dripping from a bag into her arm when the ambulance stopped.

I heard the men open and slam their doors. The memory of her in the grass slammed back into my scull. My heart returned to its work on my ribs. I look back at Natalie. Beautiful. Helpless. I have to protect her.

Natalie's stretcher is lifted by the men and they carry her into the hospital. I get out and follow them, scared.

Everything is white. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust. Every blurry face is turned to us. We speed walk down hallways until we reach a room. The men transfer Natalie onto a bed. Two of them leave the room like I wasn't even there. The other pushes me out of the room with his big, burly hands.

"Hey!" I protest.

"Family only," he booms.

"But- but. I'm her brother!" I lie.

Sarah looks at us. "No you're not. You met in the first grade."

The big scary man looks at me sideways. "I was adopted," I think fast.

The man impatiently rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says, "Go, and stay out of the way." He rushes after the other two men.

I walk back into the room and sit in the chair in the corner. I watch the chaos as nurse after nurse touches The Little Mermaid. I draw my knees up to my chest and cry again.

One of the nurses hear me and walks gently to my side. "Your sister is going to be fine." It takes me a few seconds to realize she means Natalie. "We just have to remove the stick and give her some fluids and she will be as good as new, okay?"

"Okay," I mumble. The nurse goes back to work and I stop crying. My eyes are suddenly heavy. My head lands limply on my knees and I fall asleep, wishing for a healed Natalie. My wishes never come true.