Page 36 of Fiend
The constant beeping of some damn machine wakes me up. I open my eyes and look around, and then all the images of the accident flow through my mind.
“Fuck!”
“Don’t move,” Slash says, resting his hand on my shoulder.
“Everything hurts,” I growl, closing my eyes.
“Of fuckincourse. You rolled down the fucking hill and hit your head on a boulder. You also have a fucking gunshot that I’m working on getting the bullet out of your thigh. It doesn’t appear that it damaged any arteries. It’s embedded in your thigh muscle,” Slash says.
“Fuck! That hurts,” I growl, feeling the pressure from his digging around in my leg.
“Yeah, but I have to find it,” Slash hums.
“My head hurts,” I growl.
“I bet you got knocked out. You have a concussion, and you’ve been out. I’m glad that you’re awake, it’s a good sign,” Slash says, nodding.
“Where’s my cell phone,” I say, looking around.
“I don’t know,” Slash says, pulling out the bullet.
“Where’s my Cut,” I ask, looking around the room.
“It’s in your room,” Slash says, cleaning up the gunshot.
“Fuck,” I growl, closing my eyes.
I pray that I didn’t lose the ring, Autumn's ring.
I never got a moment to text her.
This is fucked up!
She’s going to be pissed off.
Fuck!
I always texted or called. I tried to see her every day since I met her.
My body throbs, and it feels like a massive ache. I don’t know where it hurts the most.
“I’m going to inject some medication to keep you from getting an infection,” Slash says, inserting the needle.
“Is that all I have? Because I’m fucking hurting everywhere,” I grunt, closing my eyes.
“I bet, motherfucker. You rolled down the hill, hitting everything along the way like a fucking ping pong. You do have two broken ribs, scrapes on your shoulders and legs, and a broken arm that I still need to set, so yeah, you’re beat up,” Slash says, starting to sew up my gunshot.
My eyes feel heavy, and I close my eyes. I open my eyes and look at Slash sewing my thigh.
“I’m sleepy,” I groan, grinding my molars, opening my eyes.
Autumn’s face flashes through my mind, and I close my eyes. I inhale and exhale to stop from wimping out.
I’m a fucking Satan Warrior!
I got this.
“Yeah, sleep, you need to rest. I did a MIR, and your head looks good. No bleeding, inflammation, or damaged tissue,” Slash says, nodding. “I’m going to clean you up, no worries.”
