Ironically Alive
THAT DAY HAD GONE BY FASTER THAN EXPECTED IT WOULD. WE HAD ALL AGREED TO START work on the model tonight in the workshop, and chemistry lab. We decided to make a down scale model instead of trying to build a larger one and have it not work. This is more to save supplies and time than anything else. I would have liked to just go with it, fixing what needed to be fixed along the way, but we took a vote and decided to make a down scale model.
It took 4 hours, but we had gotten half of one of the many models done, not including testing. Luckily for us, we already had a thermoelectric generator at the school, a piece of technology that converts heat onto electricity, with permission to use it.
After four hours of working non-stop, I am exhausted. And lucky me I have another 15 minute walk home.
I turn the corner, around half way home, when out of the corner of my eye I see someone creep out from the shadows just behind me. My reflexes instantly kick in and I jump, turning around and getting ready to throw a punch if I need to. I instantly feel simultaneously both embarrassed and relieved when I realize that it was just Dal trying scare me. I decide to throw the punch anyway, seeing as he deserved it, though not using near full strength. Right as my fist is about to collide with his bicep, he grabs it and gives me a dirty look.
"If looks could kill, man." That's all I say before removing my fist from his grip, turning around and starting to walk home again. I'm surprised that he doesn't come after me or say something, he just let's me go. As I'm walking I get lost in my thoughts, of the future, both long and short term. I'm still slightly flustered from Dal's shananagin, just enough for a cat to walk out of the bushes and scare me half to death. A black cat. Walking right across my path. I decide to not care and keep going straight through where it crossed.
After seeing that I decide to run all the way home, not stopping for anything, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I can outrun the fear. It doesn't work. I can feel the icy cold adrenaline rushing through my veins. I run faster and faster until I cant run any faster, pushing past the burning in my legs, and it feels good, a kind of good I haven't felt in awhile. I keep running, feeling the breeze on my sweaty face, but before I know it, it's over, and the burning sensation is back, but not just in my legs. It felt so good to be running I completely forgot that there were still puddles on the ground from the snow melting.
The burning that was spread across my whole back side fades, and this is when i feel a warm trickle run down my arm --in the front? I catch a glimpse of my arm in the light of a car's headlights, seeing the red blood that stains my shirt start spreading farther and farther, much faster than should be possible for the small cut on my shoulder. My fingers reach up to it, feeling the sticky blood that pours out of the gash covering the top of my shoulder to the middle of my upper arm and just doesn't reach my line of view. Dal clearly saw me fall, and was at my side in an instant.
"Don't move!" Dal had shouted at me, catching me off guard.
"I just slipped, I was running then I fell. Im alright." I reassure him, though I don't think it worked considering I said it through gritted teeth, trying not to scream in pain.
"On a scale of one to ten how much does it hurt?" Dal asked, his tone laced with both care and concern.
"Nine." I whisper, wanting to tell him I hurt, but not wanting to at the same time. By the stern expression on his face I can tell that he thinks im just playing games with him.
"It can't be a nine it just a scratch-- oh my god!" As he said it he rips a strip of cloth off his shirt and ties it over the gash on my arm.
"Im sure im over reacting." I say, trying to convince myself more than him, though he clearly didn't get that.
"Maenzee this is serious!" I can tell that he's trying to make me aware of what is happening, but the black spots that cloud my vision make it hard to think or focus on anything. I push them away, and it works, for a few seconds at least. Soon they come back stronger, as if my pushing them away helped it gain strength. I close my eyes, wishing them away, and find it's easier to think, to focus on the task at hand, with them closed. I let my eyelids rest closed over my burning eyes, savoring the aid to my sleep deprived eyes.
"I fell down." I, again, try to assure myself, not meaning to say it out loud, but doing it anyway.
"I'm calling mom and dad." He says matter-of-factly. As he pulls out his phone I open my eyes slightly, not wanting him to get our parents involved so that they don't over react, as always.
"Dont. Dont get them worried about it." As I say this I use my good arm and lightly tap his shin. The tap is all I can't manage to get out of myself right now, though I try my hardest not to show it. Realising that I won't let him call until I'm convinced he crouches down and rests the phone on his knee, screen off facing the ground. I close my eyes again, the black spots taking over my vision of the bright street light --brighter than i remember-- and my brother.
"They should be worried about it and so should you!" Now he's shouting at me, not making me feel much better. I don't even think he's trying anymore. I can tell he's mad that I'm not taking this as seriously as I should be, but I can't help myself for not wanting to burden other people with my problems. It's how I've grown up.
"Im fine!" I attempt to yell back, though the power of my voice gets lost somewhere in my throat, --or wasn't in me to start off with-- so it comes out as more of a raspy whisper. "I'm fine." I try and yell again, though this time all the power is drained out of it, sounding much softer then I had intended, much softer than before as well. Barely audible to even myself.
"This is going to hurt but I need to put pressure on it until we get home." And at that moment he pushes his hand against my arm, the cloth clearly not doing what he had intended it to, and the pain I had felt before double, triples even.
"Ack" I bellow, not able to keep it back anymore.
"Come on, let's get you home" He starts to lift me up, and as I try to pull my legs under me, they don't move. It's only now that I realise I can't feel them at all.
"I," I start, not knowing how to finish the sentence. "I don't think I can get up." The pain and terror clear as day in my voice as I continue to try. And though it bring some life back to me, I would prefer it be under different circumstances.
"What do you--" His realization of my pain cutting off his thought. "Oh my god your head! Can you open your eyes?" My head? What wrong with my head?
I open my eyes to prove I can, but close them after a second because of the blinding light behind Dal's head. "Ya. But I can't feel my legs. What's wrong with my head?" He is ignoring my question, but the life that was im my voice a second ago is gone, no noise coming out.
"Okay I'm calling mom and dad and an ambulance." I touch the back of my head, feeling the sticky blood that is pouring out of my neck. This is the thing that changes my mind about calling our parents.
"Okay just hurry! I think its getting worse!" The pain gets worse, and though I think it may be the adrenaline waring off, I don't want to take my chances.
I dont think I've never seen Dal move as fast as he did to get his phone back and dial 9-1-1, then my parents. I can hear him talking on the phone, but can only make out little clips like; "Were on the corner of Lock and Nest," "Neck and shoulder, yes," or "heading home." The rest was muffled and echoey when the sound got to me. It all sounded lost and overlaid with each other.
After a while I hear his footsteps come back my way. He kneels down next to me, and without saying anything, puts pressure on both my arm and neck, not caring about the amount of blood he's getting all over himself. Or the pain it's causing me.
"Okay they're coming." That one sentence may just be the one I'm glad to hear most. And I just let the pain stay, but keep it at bay while I sink back into his arms. "You're going to be okay."
That's the last thing I hear before I pass out, half from pain and half from being exhausted, the sound of sirens in the distance as my lullaby.
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Once the ambulance had gotten to the "fall scene"-- at least that's what their calling it--, so had my parents. They tried to get Dal into the car with them, but he refused to leave me, even when I was with doctors on the five minute drive to the hospital. Almost instantly I was given sedative to make sure I stayed asleep, which gave him even more reason to stay. He had told my parents that he was okay staying with me while they went home and would call if anything happened, including me waking up-- well that's at least what he told me when I woke up. By time my parents had gotten there, I was awake for 15 minutes. Dal and I had talked for 10 minutes before he called them. I had tried to get up and move a few times, only to be stopped by my overprotective brother saying that I might rip out my new stitches.
We had talked about a few things while we waited for my parents to come. We talked about school a bit, but left that alone most of the time. He told me that I drifted in and out of consciousness for half an hour after the doctors had finished with the stitches. But I was asleep for seven hours before hand. And though I don't remember anything, I believe that it's true, not really knowing why I do, just believing it. Maybe It's because of the movies I've watched, or just instinct, or the fact that he's my brother.
My parents had come, picked me up, and brought me home. I was told that I needed rest, and a lot of it, before I could go back to school, and a while before I can do any running-- if I even wanted to. We got home, and had a quick supper before I had to go to bed. It was only around seven at night, but once I laid down the darkness of sleep consumed me, and with it came some odd dreams.
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I opened my eyes, and everything is white for a split second, while my eyes adjust to the light, which I still have to shield from my eyes. I think back to the dream I had and how weird it was, trying to swat the light away. In seeing this, Dal turns the flashlight on his phone away from my eyes. Almost as instantly as it and left, it had returned, along with a black turtleneck shirt, and a pair of black leggings I owned. With that he left the room, clearly hinting for me to get changed. I sit up slowly, not wanting to wake anyone up, as if Dal hadn't done that on his own. It takes a few seconds, but eventually my eyes adjust to the dark enough to see the nightstand beside my bed, being careful not to bump into it. I turn on the screen to my phone to check the time, and see that it was still very early. I quickly get changed into the clothes Dal gave to me and step into the hall, hearing dishes clattering downstairs. Dal pokes his head out of the room, signaling for me to come join him in his room, not wanting me to be seen, quite clearly sneaking out at almost 2 in the morning.
When the figure that was downstairs passes by, it's obvious from the figure that it isn't my mother, nor my father. They turn into a room down the hall-- my room?-- craning their neck against their broad shoulders to get under the frame of the door. I can tell that it is a male, with shaggy hair that looks like it hasn't been cut in over a year. I start towards the door, wanting to know what he needs with my room, but Dal grabs my right arm and pulls me back into his room. He puts a hand up, telling me to stay here, before heading out to see what the guy wants.
I wait a few minutes, and when he doesn't come back I start to get worried. I walk back towards my room, silently and hastily, sliding along the wall, grabbing a fallen dowel along the way. When I get to my room, Dal is lying on the floor, the tall robber looming over him. I can see the pure terror in his eyes, even through the grey darkness of the night.
I let my instincts take over, and without thinking a smash the blunt end of the dowel against the back of the intruders head, right where his spine connects with his neck, with all of the strength I can muster. It wasn't enough to phase the him, and it becomes clear to me that he isn't in control over his own body. He acts as if he had just been tapped on the shoulder, turning around in a slow circle. The badge on the police officer's suit glints in the moonlight, revealing a tag with no name. I figure the best choice would be to run outside, making as much noise as possible so my parents wake up. I run out the door, as fast as I can go with my recent injury, hollering at the cop to stop and leave, but the sound doesn't seem to get close to penetrating his mind. It's almost as if he was taken control of, robotic and insane.
Just like in my dream.