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We were both life-flighted from our small Texas town to the nearest medical center nearly an hour from our home.
Adeline was the lucky one, recovering in a matter of months. I, however, had brain swelling and had to have a shunt placed in my head to counteract the swelling. They weren’t even sure if I’d be the ‘normal Viddy’ anymore once I woke up from my medically induced coma.
And I wasn’t.
I was a new Viddy. A blind Viddy.
I had a lot of adjusting to do after that, but with the help of our loved ones, friends and family, I made it through.
Most influential in my overall progress was the special education teacher, and mentor, Mrs. Abrams. Mrs. Abrams made me realize that I wasn’t actually ‘stupid.’ I just learned differently now.
I was picked on a lot in high school due to my bald spot from the shunt. I still, to this day, had the bald spot. Only now, my hair is long enough to cover the eyesore.
An especially funny comment from the hero of my audio book had me chuckling, bringing me out of my reverie of the past day’s events.
After another ten minutes of listening to the book, my sleep timer went off, and the book quieted down into silence.
The air conditioner was humming its usual quiet drone. The sound of my big deep freezer came on, too, making it almost impossible to hear over the sound of the two appliances.
I was almost asleep when I heard it.
The squeak-squeak that my kitchen window made each time it was opened.
My heart, which had previously been thumping at a slow, steady beat, started galloping as the adrenaline shot through my blood.
My hearing soared, making me hear the quiet rustle of fabric against fabric, as well as a spoon clink in the sink. I dropped to the floor, grabbing my phone as I dashed underneath my bed.
I crawled as quietly as I could, pushing boxes out of the way as I went.
Then I nearly smacked myself on the forehead as I realized I probably pushed the boxes out past the bed frame, which would surely inform whomever was in my apartment to where I was.
Goddammit, Viddy. What the fuck were you thinking shoving all these boxes under here?I cursed myself.
Once I was as far under as I could be, I started to rearrange the boxes before curling into a ball at the top of my bed, just underneath the headboard.
Pulling my phone up to my chest, I said a silent prayer that the buttons on the side of the phone worked to call an emergency contact as it said it would, and held it for the allotted four seconds.
Miraculously, it did work, and the number was dialing as I placed it against my ear.
“Spurlock.” Trance answered tersely.
***
Trance
“Sit. The. Fuck. Down.” I seethed.
My left hand was covering the side of my face, and my .40 caliber automatic was in my hand, pointing straight at the boy I’d just pulled over.
“Get your hands behind your back. Now. I won’t fuckin’ hesitate to shoot you. Not after you just tried to stab me in the face.” I growled.
“Unit 5-2. This is dispatch. Do you still need assistance?” One of my favorite dispatchers, Justice Lee (And no, she’s a mother of five… not a stripper), asked through the radio connected to my collar.
Letting the bleeding cut on my face go, I reached across my chest and depressed the button before answering. “10-4. I need backup. 10-24.Two patients.”
10-24 was the police code stating that I needed an ambulance. Personally, I thought it’d be easier to say that I needed a medic. The captain didn’t like when we clogged up the channel with useless chatter, though, so everything was kept to a minimum.
“10-4. Medic 3 and a blue and white en route.” Justice Lee affirmed.
