The next time I woke up I was upside down, literally.
“What? Bloody hell!” I shouted
though a glued up throat as I got my senses back. I was so far on my
head looking up at my feet that I thought I would slip right off of the end and
land in a perfect handstand, which of course would have been OK if I felt like
doing one but at that moment it was the last thing on my list. In my muddle I
grabbed onto the sides of the bed and the angry pain rippled up my arm. Two things
surprised me about that, one was the fact that the grip of my effected hand was
a lot better than it usually was, and two was the fact it hurt quite as much as
it did. I squeaked out at the terrible agony and thrashed my legs in protest of
the pain but the movement almost caused me to do a backward roll off of the bed
and into the drips behind me. I squealed again, trying to find a way to grip
on.
“Jacob help her,” I heard Emmet shout; his footsteps run over to
my bed. “Wowa, wowa,” He hushed softly grabbing hold of my shoulders
tightly and pushing my legs back flat down. “Your OK honey I got you.” He hushed again
as I struggled, feeling like he was pushing me further backwards.
“I got you, I won’t let you fall you
can trust me.” He encouraged and I instantly lied
still like he said to do.
“What’s happened?” I heard Emmet ask Jacob as he kicked a chair underneath him and sat
down still holding my shoulders gently, “What’s with all the
heart monitors and things?” He asked again
the edge of annoyance in his voice now a lot clearer.”
“I don’t know.” Jacob groaned.
“Heart monitor?” I
yelled jumping again. Emmet held me
firmer, not in a restraining way but in a comforting way.
“Morphine overdose, I think,” Jacob shrugged again. Emmet went white.
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