"Cheat." Pete knocks the cards out of Patricks hands with a pout.
"See, I wasnt cheating." Patrick smiles.
"Ugh. You never cheat. I just cant catch you out."
I watch Patrick and Pete quietly fight over a game of cards. The cards are scattered on the hospital sheets like a pattern.
"Didnt he cheat?" Pete eventually shouts in my direction.
"I dont know. Im busier watching you fight." I wave my spare hand about.
Pete rolls his eyes looking back at the scattering of cards.
"Lets just clean them up..." Patrick shakes his head.
They collect them off the floor and from my bed. They managed to scatter everywhere! Eventually Pete shuffles them and counts them out.
"49, 50, 51." He mumbles.
"Arent there 52 in a pack Pete?" Patrick leans on his knees, resting his face on his hands.
Pete. Counts the cards once... Twice... Three times... But theres still 51 cards.
"Yeah. There is meant to be 52..."
They start searching. They search like that full pack of cards would save their lives. Honestly, they could but a new pack in a blink of an eye and still have endless amounts of money.
Pete crawls under the hospital bed and Patrick leans out the window.
Then theres a knock.
"Hello there miss Stump." The doctor comes in and stands by the bed.
Firstly, Stump?
Secondly, Patrick is stuck half way out the window and Pete is under my bed.
"How are you feeling?" The doctor asks.
My eyes widen slowly.
"Im... Good?" I try.
He is a large man in a lab coat. His hair is white and his beard is darker and crazier. He looks like he could sell buckets of chicken.
"Very nice." The doctor says. "Im going to just test what is going on and then leave you be for a bit."
Patrick is slowly wiggling back inside and Pete has completely disappeared under the bed.
"When do you think Ill be let go again?" I try and distract him from Patrick.
The man starts pressing buttons on the machine and places a large patch, attached to a spindly wire, over my scar.
"Only a few more days if youre doing okay." He smiles.
Patrick pushes himself from the window, almost falling into the machines. I try not to gasp as he staggers back.
"Mr Stump, nice of you to join us."
I share a look with Patrick and he shrugs.
"Okay, lets see..."
I can feel the patch compressing and I clasp onto the sides of the bed.
"Itll be over soon. Dont panic."
His monotonous voice drills into me and I close my eyes.
"Looking good..."
Patrick sits next to the bed and strokes over my hand. My hand tingles at his touch.
"Right..."
It is squeezing and pressing on my tender skin. I hold my breath.
"Okay. Well..."
He pulls off the patch and replaces it.
"You seem fine for now. Im going to give you less on the drip. Here are the drugs for today."
He places a cup of different shapes and sizes of drugs.
"Ill see you later."
His coat floats behind him as he shuts the door.
"STUMP?" Both Pete and I manage to be in time.
"You cant go in with your real name, youll be sent to the police!" Patrick says quietly.
"Honestly." I laugh.
"Yeah! Also... Stump sounds better than no surname at all."
"I dropped my old surname. I did have one though! Lanceworth. How poncy!"
Pete laughs, almost hitting his head on the bottom of my bed.
"Pete... Get out from there."
"Well, I found the card!"
He holds up and 8 of clubs.
YOU ARE READING
I Dont Do Too Well On My Own
FanfictionI moved to Chicago as soon as I could. I was... 18. I was young and desperate to leave my parents house. Its not like Ive had a bad childhood. It would probably surprise you that I dont have a crazy good job or a hot husband and a kid right now. It...
