I Choose You

Chapter Twenty Two - Critical Condition

I laid still, hearing everything but none of it made sense. I recognized a few words, but that was all. I didn't know where I was, who I was with or how I got here. As a matter of fact, the only thing I was sure of was my name. I think. "ght hff be sliff?"

"e dom ko"

Then there was some sort of ear-piercing screech, followed by a muffled sound of movement and breathing issues. Everything that was going on didn't make sense, and none of it could be made sense of because my whole world was dark. I wasn't very sure of what to do, so I just stayed in my place. I really didn't have a choice.

I tried to think of whatever would come to mind, but all that echoed through my mind was Alex Bertie; 18; male (ftm); what else? what else? what else? Honestly, I wanted to know what the Gibberish around me was. I couldn't figure it out. It was almost like I knew how to talk (although not verbally), but could understand it. I couldn't do much of anything.

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I woke up again, but my whole world was still dark. The room was quiet. I tried to move anything, and my whole leg turned. I screamed in pain. it hurt, like someone put a knife through my leg. More than once.

I made sense of the noise around me: the wind blowing outside; the murmur of voices in the hall; footsteps getting louder; the door creaking open, then shutting; the questions I was being asked.

All I remembered was my name, age, gender and waking up before knowing nothing but. Now, at least, I could hear almost all of the words being spoken, and understood them. I tried to answer with my voice, but I wasn't sure if my mouth even moved. I was told to squeeze the person's hand, once for yes and twice for no.

"Do you know your name?" Squeeze.

"Do you know what happened?" Squeeze, squeeze.

"Do you know where you are?" Squeeze, squeeze.

"Are you in pain?" Squeeze.

"How much, on a scale of one to five squeezes?" Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

"Can you see?" Squeeze, squeeze.

"On a scale of one to five squeezes, how much do you remember?" Squeeze.

"Can you speak out loud?" Squeeze, squeeze.

"Can you speak in your head, to yourself?" Squeeze.

"Can you hear every word I'm saying?" Squeeze, squeeze.

"Most of them?" Squeeze.

It went on like this for a while, and I was bored of it. Plus, my hand was really starting to hurt, but I kept going on. I've learned with my experience at the hospitals and interrogations that it's - no matter how much it may seem the opposite - less painful if you just answer it and do as your told when you are told. In other words, just do it. like ripping off a bandage: do it quickly and don't torture yourself. Then its all over. My force in my squeezes got lighter and lighter by the question, though, and I was sure this lady was having problems deciphering what I was trying to tell her. I kept going though, and she did too. it must've not had been that bad.

Eventually, the questions stopped and I heard feet leaving. I was left alone with the wind again. The last thing I would do is try to move again, so I just stayed there, trying to get some memory back. heard the door creak again, then click shut. Someone walked, and then there were more steps. More than one person maybe?

"I can't believe it!" someone yelled, then put their hand over mine.

"Look at him, oh my gosh!" 

"We need to find that cunt." Who do we need to find and why are they such a vile name? Did someone do this to me? Was I the only one who got hurt? Was I hurt? There were so many unanswered questions, and I was scared they'd remain that way. I heard whispering.

"Her too!?" Someone else? There's someone else. Then a name came to me: Jessie.

I didn't know who she was, but she must've been important, and she may be hurt. I thought and thought, but 'Jessie' wasn't registering. More names flew through my head: Ann, Philip, Lynn. I had no idea who they were. I wanted to say something; I wanted to ask who these people were and why I thought of them.

"Unfortunately, Miss."

"And Ann?" Who in bloody hell was Ann?

"Yes, but she'll be okay."

"Philip?" Who???

"Got away on foot." This must be the person who hurt me. If I was hurt. Maybe I was just stupid. I'm not sure. A bolt of pain pulsed throughout my back and up my arms. Some sort of noise exited my body, and all talking stopped. I had a feeling all eyes were on me. The pain left, and the tension of my whole body flowed away, leaving me to my almost dormant state.

"This is awful."

"We're trying the best we can, Mrs. Bertie." That's mom! Mom is here! Why wasn't she with me? Wait. She was away. Someone was going to stay the night, but we left. A van. . . we were in a van for hours. The cops came. But who? With what? Why were we in a van for hours and then got pulled over by the police? The names still buzzed in my head, but none of them clicked to anything. They were just words with no meaning. As if I took them out of the air, and for all I know, I might've. Maybe I was trying to put memories into people I didn't know.

"Well, what's the update on the girl and him?" a man said. Footsteps.

"Doc?" I think it was mom.

"I hate to inform you," someone sighed. . .a man, "but last we checked. . ." There was a pause.

"Tell us, please," the man pleaded.

"They're both in critical condition."

[A/N: This chapter has literally no past whatsoever, so I hope you remember what the characters were, and what happened. or else you'll be just as helpful as Alex. Haha]