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What a waste of time.
What an idiot.
“Yes! Take me to her. I can’t be here. I need—” The pain was back, pulling me under with suffocating agony.
“Like I said, what you need is to calm down. You’ve suffered a head injury and your ability to regulate your moods might be a little impaired. Just take a deep breath and—”
“It hurts to fucking breathe!” I howled, gasping as my ribs threatened to stab me.
“Yes, well that will be the three cracked ribs you sustained.”
“What?”
“If you just relax, I can let you know where you are, what happened, and what to expect from here.”
Dizziness came for me, twisting me, spinning me.
I drowned beneath confusion, pain, and worry.
I couldn’t catch a proper breath. Everything felt ruined and broken.
My heart raced too fast and my rage prowled too hotly.
I felt strange and shaky, and it took all my remaining strength to rein in my fury and do what the nurse commanded.
Raising my head, choking on agony, I grunted, “Please...tell me. Tell me what happened. W-Why do I feel as if I’ve been run over?”
He chuckled before schooling his face into a more appropriate response. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to laugh at that. I know you’re not making a joke, but—”
“But what?”
“Well, you were technically run over.”
The room faded to black before returning. I gritted my teeth to stop myself retching. “I don’t...that’s not possible.”
Taking my confusion as approval to speak, he said, “According to first response, you were struck by a Mazda Axela. You arrived about two hours ago, presenting with open wounds and contusions. You were immediately tended to.”
I struggled to focus on him. “Contusions?”
“You have a head injury that didn’t require stitches. A shoulder injury that did. X-rays show three cracked ribs and a possible hairline fracture on your left hip. It’s hard to tell with the amount of swelling at present, so I’m sure the doctor will discuss that on his next visit.”
My mind raced.
My heart hammered.
Fuck.
“Like I said, you might feel out of sorts from the head injury. You might be dizzy and nauseous.” Tapping something into a handheld device, he murmured, “I’ve just added on your file that you’re looking for your wife, alright? It’s great that you’re awake and coherent but before we can treat you any further, we need your name, date of birth, allergies, and Medicare number.” His eyebrows rose. “I’ll fill in the forms for you if you help me out with the answers.”
Snow immediately filled my veins.
I froze.
Name?
Date of birth?
My gaze shot to the door, slipping past a few other patients resting in their matching beds. My head pounded. All I wanted to do was sleep. But...I didn’t have that luxury. I didn’t have the ability to sink into my pain and let time heal me.
