Shift

7. John

I heard the sounds first. Voices. Arguing.

Then, I felt the weight of my body. I tried to move but my muscles failed me.

Breathing... it hurt. It hurt my chest, and my throat. There was something stuck down my throat. It was very uncomfortable, but I somehow could still breathe with it.

I opened my eyes and saw only white.

"John!"

Aiden's voice!

I rolled my eyeballs left, where the sound had come from. I felt his hand on mine before I could see him. There he was. He looked sick. I tried to talk, ask him what was going on with him. I could only emit a sort of mumble.

"John, stay calm." I knew that voice as well. Nadia. Eyeballs rolled left to look at her. "You've been in an accident and you're in the hospital. Blink twice if you understand what I'm saying."

I complied. I was surrounded by cries of joy.

"I'll have to ask you to remain still for now. You have a tracheal tube and an IV on, and the monitors are connected to you. I'll need to check you up before removing some of it, ok?"

I looked at her and blinked twice.

I heard somebody cry and angled my head so I could look down at my chest. My mother.

"Hey there, son," my father's voice was trembling. He was standing by the feet of the bed. I didn't remember my father's voice trembling before, ever.

I closed my fingers, one by one, over Aiden's hand. He raised it to his lips. It was trembling as well.

This must have been very bad.

I couldn't ask, but it must have been patent in my eyes when I looked at Nadia, because she replied.

"The worst injury you sustained was to the brain. Plus a couple broken ribs, that are aligned and should heal well enough. We'll need further tests, of course, but now that you're conscious, I believe you'll make a full recovery."

I closed my eyes and thanked every deity I could recall the name of for the fact that I wouldn't be a cripple.

The removing of the tube was very unpleasant. I gained a new sense of empathy towards my patients that ever had to be intubated. I coughed, then dry heaved, then Aiden offered me some water, which brought some relief.

Boyle had come in to check my vitals, my reflexes, to ask me questions as to access my mental status, while a nurse removed most of the devices connected to me. I was left with just the IV and they were so kind as to lift the head of my bed so I could be in a near sitting position.

I still felt numb all over.

"So, tell me I wasn't under for years." I coughed.

My parents had left the room to allow doctors and nurses to work on me. Part of me was glad. It was disturbing, seeing my parents that vulnerable.

"Three days," Aiden said. He'd insisted on staying. He was a nurse, after all. "Felt like years, though."

"What happened?"

"You... don't remember?" He looked apprehensive.

"No, I..." I tried stretching my memory muscle. "Last thing I remember is... I was at the clinic. I talked to Nadia, she gave me these flyers... That's the last thing I can recall, I think. So how was it? Someone hit me, or...?"

I didn't like the look on his face. Not a little bit.

"Did I kill someone?"

"No! God, no!"