"I need help!" Justin yelled as he walked through the sliding glass doors of the hospital. Almost immediately nurses were running up to him with a stretcher, and helping place Clay down. More people come to the assistance to try and check his vitals, and make sure he's still breathing.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Justin asked, getting ignored as everyone is rambling and shouting orders. Justin was breathing heavily as they began to pull Clay into the back of the ER, and tried to walk alongside him, but was stopped by a nearby nurse.
"Come with me sweetie, we need to get his information," a short and stout nurse with greying hair says to Justin. Justin slowly nods his head, and trudges behind her to the receptionist desk.
"What's his name, sweetheart?" The receptionist asks.
"Clay Jensen," Justin breathed out.
"And your relation?" She asks.
"He's my..." Justin hesitated for a moment, "adoptive brother," he says, swallowing a lump in his throat after technically lying to the lady.
The two continue going back and forth, filling in the blanks of the patient contact forms. "Okay honey, why don't you go sit down, and I'll try to get any information on him," she says, motioning to the waiting room. Justin thanks her, and walks over to one of the uncomfortable chairs.
It took three hours. Three hours of Justin worrying, bouncing his leg up and down in stress, while the rest of the world was drowned out. The lady had not been back once to inform Justin on any updates. 'Liar' he thought. He could hear the buzz of the tv, droning on and on through some boring program that ran 24/7.
"Clay Jensen?" A man calls, and Justin shot up, rushing over to him. The man gives him a pitied smile, and motioned for him to follow.
"He's still asleep, but you are able to come back since you're an intermediate family member," the doctor explained. Justin nodded, and listened on.
"We ran a couple tests, and sent him in for an MRI, and I have to ask, has he experienced a lot of head trauma lately? I noticed a gash on his head, but it looked to be an older one," the doctor says.
"A couple days ago he fell in the shower and got the gash, and I was out when he called me today because he had tripped and was throwing up," Justin explained to him. The doctor nodded, and began writing something down on his clipboard.
"Okay, and another issue seems to be improper nourishment, meaning he's not eating as much as he should, and when he does eat, he's not getting all the nutrients he needs," he says, reading over his charts.
Justin curses himself in his head. A whole box of donuts, instead of breakfast. All the junk food they had eaten. Justin had taken notice to how little Clay would eat, whether it was taking small portions at dinner, or even completely skipping meals.
They arrived at the room, and the doctor opened the door, letting Justin step inside. He took one glance at the pale, lifeless boy hooked up with wires to machines, and his heart hurt. Justin took note of the hospital gown he was wearing.
"It shouldn't be long before he wakes up, he shouldn't be in a coma, but he does have a minor concussion," the doctor says, before leaving the room.
Justin walked over to Clay's bed, and took a seat in an even more uncomfortable chair than in the waiting room. He gently grabbed Clay's hand, and watched his eyes flicker, as if he was having a fast paced dream.
"God damnit Clay, you scared me back there," Justin whispered, mostly to himself. He squeezed Clay's hand, and shook his head, letting out a sigh.
"I thought something terrible had happened," he continued. "Not that this isn't serious, but you know, something life threatening," he rambled, before Clay began to stir.
