Untiled

- Chapter Two -

Is it true? Am I really dead? David asked himself. He saw the light. It was bright. What everyone claimed about was apparently true so far. There was some uncomforting about the light though. It hurt. He hurt. The pain seemed to be back. Very intense, penetrating every little bruise or scratch on his arms or legs and mostly he felt that agonizing pain to the the side of his abdomen. David could feel exactly where it was; just below his ribcage. This wasn't right. David thought about his situation a little more. If im dead, should I still feel pain? 'Ah you're awake.' A friendly face came into view. David sorely propped himseld uo. The bright blue tinged celling light was no longer glairing in his face. He could see that he was in a hospital, a shared room with four other beda. Two of which had their curtains closed.

'How do you feel?' The nurse asked routinely. He wondered if she knew what it felt like to be shot.
'My whole body hurts'
'I will refill your morphine. You've run out'
'How long have I been here?'
'Since 12:50 this morning, so your been here four hours just about. You were out like a light the whole time. Plus you were given general anesthetic so that also that also helped you stay asleep under the circumstances. You lost four pints of blood.'

After the nurse finished talking, two police officers approached David in full uniform. With the kind of look that intimidates all children. They made quick smalltalk with David then began asking him about the shooter, most of the questions David couldn't answer but he tried his best.
While they spoke David began to feel the morphine kick in and sooth his aching lean body. David wasn't a well built man; he looked like he must have never visited a gym a day in his life. But he made up for lack of muscle with intelligence. David was a teacher, a clever one.  He'd say a good one but in the students eyes he was just to uninteresting. It's hard to get students enthusiastic about calculus, with whatever effort.

The more questions the cops had the more questions he had himself. The police didn't tell him much. They said they didn't know much yet themselves.
'Was anyone else hurt?' David asked,
'Three other people have been admitted from Franklin. A female teacher, a student and one other victim who hasn't been identified yet.' The shorter man answered.
'That is all we need right now so thank you for your cooperation Mr Brenning,' finishing with an obligatory smile, he walked out of the sick Smelling room followed by his co-worker.

Looking around the room he noticed a patient staring at him, and figured it was best not to make any eye contact in fear of the older man wanting to share some good old tales with him about whatever thinkable, the way Mr Daryl does if he catches you in a rare still moment. Wasted possible silence.

And there he goes thinking about the things, the "problems" he faces working at Franklin High, drifting back off to an ordinary day. But when sorting paperwork for the next class is followed by being hospitalized due to a gunshot wound to the abdomen, it becomes not such an ordinary day in Northbrook.