Make up your mind, New

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Déjà vu

Claude

After a month of isolation, for my own good; apparently I was finally able to see my father for the first time after he was shot. I had no news of what condition he was in, just that he was alive. I wasn't allowed out anywhere without Headon which was better than the original 20 guards, I suppose. I got out of the tinted car and strode through the paparazzi, and blinked my way through the flashes, and ignored the many voices screaming my name. I was getting pushed along by Headon, through a hospital that was strangely familiar, but every hospital looks practically the same. A doctor rushed toward me. He started babbling at me, it took me to realise he was speaking French instead of the business language of English; I must be in the local hospital, which must meant that my father is seriously injured as they didn't have time to take him to a more private one.  

"Did you understand what I'm saying Monsieur Chaumont" the doctor inquired. I looked at him and took in the bags under his eyes to the worried expression on his face. I had seen that face before. 

"What is your name?" My voice was cold, distant. It unnerved me, but I pushed that sensation away. 

"Dr Jean - Francois Thaumiaux"  

"Have we met?" 

"Yes, I treated your mother" he replied carefully, gauging my reaction. I took a step away from him; a bucket of cold ice had been chucked on me. That's why this place looked so familiar, this is the place my mother had been brought to, and had died. I looked at Headon, who had obviously known. He wouldn't meet my sharp narrowed glare. Coward. I looked at the doctor.  

"Well let's hope you do a better job of treating my father then you did of my mother" I replied coldly, the doctor flinched. You didn't want to get on the wrong side of the Chaumont family. I looked up to see Headon staring at me, his onyx eyes didn't reveal much, but I guessed we, or rather he was going to talk to me about my responsibility and withholding the family honour. The doctor didn't say anything else till we reached the ward, where I assumed my father was being held. It was completely deserted except for the many guards stationed outside a pair of double doors, and our trio.  

"The gunshot wound your father suffered has hit his aorta artery. He has suffered severe blood loss, and the bullet clipped the lumbar vertebrae" The doctor looked troubled, an expression that was very familiar. It was the same expression that told me my mother was dead. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, and the déjà vu of this scenario.  

"And that means?" my voice was quiet, but the doctor could still hear me in the silent ward. 

"It means that, the bullet went through the major artery that transports oxygenated blood to the legs. When the bullet went through the artery, it clipped the lower part of his spinal cord." His voice was going quieter as he reached the end of the sentence, he couldn't meet my eyes. I sunk on to one of the chairs in the ward area, a plastic uncomfortable abomination, which if I owned the hospital, would burn. But I was grateful for the support it offered, as the bones in my legs had vaporised, and I was left with tissue and muscle that would never do my bidding. I placed my head in the hands, so that the salty water that trickled down my face was hidden. The lump in my throat was swelling; soon I would choke on it. 

"What will happen to him?" I asked. My voice was obscured by my hands. But you still heard it tremble; my emotions were in control of my voice. I felt like a child that is unable to stop crying. 

"In surgery we were able to stop the bleeding, and retrieve the bullet which has been given to the police, we are not sure about the extent of his injuries, he could be paralysed from the waist down for life, or mere months. But when he wakes up we will be able to perform some tests..."