subdued subtleties ━━ keanu reeves

XVII. 48-HOUR HOSPITAL STAY

C O N T E N T⠀W A R N I N G !
( graphic details of blood, needles,
vomit, wounds and skin stitching. )

❝ the chances of
survival were like
blood
to the anemic. ❞

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
48-HOUR HOSPITAL STAY

─────────────────────────

All I heard was the sound of wheels rushing through the linoleum as panicked screams cry out my name.

This was the feeling of being rushed, body clinging to the hope of operation on a gurney being pushed to the ICU with the percentage of survival running on empty.

I caused a commotion again ─ but it wasn't much of the physical one.

The scent of the injured, the intoxicated and the dead entered my nostrils when I felt the wheels push through a door with the nurses injecting the IV into my skin.

They were the bruises and contusions ─ the scars and the incisions ─ coloured my skin purple and red ─ bruised like blue and yellow ─ body so pallid; no colour at all.

The chances of survival were like blood to the anemic.

Inside the curtains of forest-green, silhouettes of men in white and blue covered my bleary eyesight ─ doctors shouting for the anesthesiologist ─ balls of cotton soaked in antiseptic ─ needles through the skin.

The acid-tasting sourness was elevating from my throat ─ but I felt paralyzed. My movement was restricted ─ I was begging to up and vomit ─ but there was no escape from my own body.

What was there to do now when there to do now when the thread attached to a needle is stitching through layers of my skin, closing up open wounds and cuts?

Close your eyes, and pray you'll survive ─ talking to vinyl ceiling with hopes that I'll be home tonight, not in the ICU wondering why I'm covered in stitches.

I open my eyes, and what I prayed for remained unanswered.

The liberty of going home never came to me. Instead, I was stuck in these white-painted walls with a window, a view of which I couldn't see.

Observing where I was, I was in a hospital room with an IV attached to my arm, quarantined inside the silence.

"Dahlia?"

I heard a familiar voice whisper my name gently, and when I turned to the right, I saw my father.

"Hey, daddy," I grin.

"Are you okay now?"

I shrug. "I guess."

I sigh, pursing my lips as I stare into the absence. There was nothing to talk about, I guess. I didn't know what to do in front of my father.

Moving my arm, even with the most excruciating pain clenching my cuts, I point to the pitcher of water sitting on the tabletop.

"You wanna drink water?" asked my father, leaning towards the table behind him and reaching for the pitcher of water.

"Yes," I replied briefly.

My father reaches for the water and fills up the glass half full.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" said my father as he reached the glass of water out to me.

"Yeah."

And after that, silence reigned the atmosphere. Both of us were silent: my father went back to his seat beside  my hospital bed.

"The nurses said you could be discharged in two days. Or more. But they were certain that the crash didn't cause you much injury─ you're lucky enough to survive, they say."

"Really?"

"Yeah. There were no 'caustic injuries', as they call it."

But then, as I glanced from inside the door that had a small glass window, I catch a glimpse of Jovi there which caused me to shoot up water to my nostrils.

"Wha─ Jovi's here!"

My father ran to the door and opened the door for Jovi, his mother and Linda─ why Linda?

As much as I wanna break free from the tubes attached to me with the medicine flowing through my bloodstream and attacking Linda, mauling and burying my thumbs in her eyesockets, I never had the strength to do so.

Jovi stared at me with such an expressionless face ─ he still looked so goddamn nice.

My feet grew colder yet my face heated up when I caught him waving hello at me.

Linda, however, was still that same pretty girl I've always envied. She still had that drop-dead gorgeous face even after I mauled her. Her voluptuous curls, her pretty eyes, her ample lips and her lovely smile.

Everything about her was so pretty ─ she was everything I wasn't. There's a reason why he likes her better.

"Hey there, Dal." smiled Linda at me, sitting on Dad's chair and drawing herself closer to me.

I feel bitter yet so apologetic and nervous.

"Hi," I smile.

I couldn't breathe. I want to cry.

"Are you feeling alright now?"

"Yes. I guess." I replied, choking back tears as I stare at her pretty fucking face.

Silence. Silence. Silence.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Jealous." I say under my breath. She leans a little bit closer and raises an eyebrow. Concern was evident on her face ─ and it made me envy her more. She was so nice, and I wasn't. Why could she care for me? I basically she wished she was dead on my mother's grave.

"I wish I was you, Linda." I whispered. But I didn't expect she'd hear me. Sje looks at me and chuckles.

"You wouldn't wanna." replied she.

Jovi stood before her, Linda noticing and saying, "Hey, Jo wants to talk to you."

My chest tightens as he sits down. I only look at with an anticipating glance, grinning awkwardly without knowing what to do.

"I'm sorry." 

"You don't have to say sorry─"

Consolation could never compare to isolation: He only stood up and walked out of the room. I knew he had too much in mind, so I just let him be as he closed the door shut.

I would've followed him out, but I knew that was gonna be too much. The last time I did, I wished I just sat by the dinner table beside my brother.

It would take a while before I could get discharged, but as long as I could still talk to Jovi after it, I would want to have a nice talk with him after all this mess.