by Candy Crum
I managed to release it and it nearly knocked the wind out of me as my ribcage snapped back together. It didn’t close me completely, but it was far enough that I was convinced that my insides wouldn’t end up on the outside if I moved.
Testing my legs was a semi-positive experience. I found they were fine. The numbness had almost completely faded and I was only a little shaky.
Should I really be moving? I wondered to myself. Maybe I should just wait for the doctor…
No. He pronounced me dead. It was hard to say when someone would be coming back. I needed to get help.
I moved my right leg, shortly followed by my left over to the right side of the bed. I stayed as horizontal as I found possible while simultaneously using the most ungraceful movements. My body was shaky, but functional. I’d take it. Finally, I stood and slowly pulled myself upward. Something tugged at my left arm and I looked down to see a blood pressure cuff. I ripped it off before inspecting my other arm. In the right one were the IVs and I ripped those out as well. Blood poured from my arm, but it seemed to stop quickly enough.
My chest shifted with the movements, and I ground my teeth hard as the separated sides of my chest plate scraped against one another. Not wanting that to happen repeatedly, I carefully crossed my arms, using them to pin the gaping hole closed.
As impatient as I was to find out what had happened to me, I made my way across the room to a mirror in a record-breaking snail’s pace. I wondered if it was one of those two-way mirrors and if there was anyone on the other side. I tried to speak, but my throat was incredibly scratchy.
“H-hello,” I said, the sound coming out a choked whisper.
I coughed then, my lungs and heart literally feeling like they would blow through my chest. I nearly collapsed from the agony and mentally wrote that down on the “don’t fucking do that again, you dumbass” list.
Check.
Waving? No. Couldn’t do that either.
Fuck.
As I stood there, staring into the mirror, I wondered how I was even alive. Why wasn’t I bleeding out? I stood there with my chest cavity completely split in two. Without someone to suction it out of the way, shouldn’t I have bled like crazy? How the hell did I even stand? So many questions. Absolutely no answers, save for one.
I’m alive.
I kept thinking those words over and over. I’m alive.
Stepping forward, I inspected my naked form. My legs were pale, in stark contrast to my normal tanned skin. The veins looked bright purple, as if my skin was a thin, fragile barrier. Like wet tissue paper. It was so transparent. I moved up to my stomach and saw that it was orange in spots. I wondered if it was that stuff they use to sanitize the skin before cutting in. Betadine.
Fear took hold of me then. I didn’t want to look at my chest. I didn’t want to see what had happened. I didn’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss, right? Isn’t that what they say?
Normally, I’d have taken a deep breath to ground myself before looking at or doing something rather shocking, but that was the worst idea ever in this case. Before the urge to do so even took hold, I made sure not to listen, or great pain would follow. My eyes wandered upward and the sharp intake of breath happened against my will. Actual shock seemed to be a much better drug than morphine, as I barely registered the pain.
My chest was stained with that orange glow, but it was also painted with my blood. There was blood everywhere. Pain be damned, morbid curiosity took hold. I slowly released my arms, my chest popping open just the tiniest bit. My sternum held my heart in place, but I could still see it peeping through, beating. It looked so strong. It was incredible to me that it had been weak enough not but a few moments ago that someone would have called it dead.
I inspected the incision and saw that it was clean, straight. The surgeon must have been very steady. Not good enough to realize he was pronouncing a perfectly live girl dead, however, but steady at least. Somehow seeing and studying it made the situation better. I managed to calm down then. It was horrifying seeing myself that way, but I was alive and I wasn’t bleeding out even with a cracked chest. What the hell happened to me?
My mind wandered as I tried to come up with something. There must have been something. What landed me there? What could I have done to need my chest cracked open?
I remembered back to the surgeon’s words. He’d said something about picking the wrong friends. All of my friends were good people, though. They helped when they could, they volunteered to help those in need, donated to charities. As far as I was concerned, I had the most amazing people for friends. Who could possibly have been bad? Hell, none of them even did any dru…
Oh, God.
There it was. The surprise of my life. I’d completely forgotten until that very moment. Everything came flying back all at once, along with the pain. My eyes closed tight as my body tensed up, fighting for control against the torture that it felt.
~ ~ ~
Will looked at me, his green eyes soft and sweet. He always knew how to get me. He knew how I felt about him and he used it against me. We weren’t together and that hurt at times, but I was happy just being around him. He was my best friend. The type of guy that everyone wanted to be around.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “I promise.”
The wind ruffled his dark blonde hair as a smile spread across his face.
“You know me,” I said. “I just get uncomfortable going to the house of someone that I don’t know. Especially when there are multiple people there.”
He laughed. “I know. You are definitely skittish sometimes, but it’ll be fine. They’re all very nice. I promise. We won’t even be here long. I just had to stop by for a minute and then we’ll be on our way to paintball.”
It was only because I could make him feel the sweet sting of one of my pink paintballs as payback that I acquiesced. I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Fine.”
We walked up to the door and he knocked. Within moments a large man opened the door.
“Hey, man! What’s up? Who’s the hottie?” he asked.
Charming. I liked him already.
“This is my friend Mia that I told you about.”
“Yeah…” the big guy trailed off a bit. “You said she’s good. You’re responsible for her. Come on in.”
He seemed hesitant, which furthered my discomfort. What the hell did that mean, anyway? Will was responsible for me? I was at a greater risk of cleaning his cabinets out of food than I was stealing a TV or shanking anyone with a shiv that I made of something random. Like a bar of soap.
“It cleans the area as it slices and dices your insides!”
I suffered from Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder as a kid. As I got older, my body slowed down and I didn’t move around so much, but my mind still snuck completely random things into my otherwise normal, though very sarcastic, thoughts. It could be annoying, but it kind of amused me, too. I didn’t like boring. If anyone ever got into my head… Oh, God. Heaven have mercy on their soul.
The house was pretty nice. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing really hung on the walls, though. Nothing screamed “home” to me. It just seemed like a house that people stayed in, but didn’t truly live in.
Will held my hand and took me to the living room, following the yet-to-be-formally-introduced large fella.
“Hang out here for a minute,” Will said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait. What?” I asked, pulling him down to me. “You’re going to leave me here alone? I don’t know anyone. I get nervous talking to people I don’t know.”
My eyes shifted around the room and I saw at least three other large men and two young girls, probably around my age, that were dressed less than classy. The bad feeling that I had outside was worse inside. I attributed it to my anxiety at first, but I was certain that was something else. One of the guys was eyeing me like a hawk and everyone else didn’t seem to be much different.
“Everything okay over here?” Big Guy asked.
Will smiled. “Yeah, man! Everything’s fine.” He looked down at me then. “I’ll be right back. If anyone talks to you, just talk back. Simple. Otherwise, you can feel free to just sit there. I’ll just be a minute. Try not to worry so much.” He winked and walked away.
“Hey, Bitch,” one of the girls said as she plopped down on the chair across from me. “What’s your name?”
What… in the actual fuck? Well, she was even more charming than Big Guy. I could tell that I was really going to like her.
“Mia,” I said.
“Mia? What the fuck kinda name is that?” she asked, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.
Sigh.
“Algonquin,” I said, my smartass mouth getting away with me. I had no idea “what the fuck kinda name” Mia was, but her rudeness spoke deeply to my inner asshole. That sounded terrible… My inner sarcasm. There’s a winner. Much better.
“What? Is that like – in Africa?” she asked, a deeply confused look on her face. “Did your parents not know you’re white?”
My left brow rose. I was about to lose all patience.
“You stupid ho,” one of the guys said. “That’s Native American or some shit. It’s not a place, dumbass.”
Holy Jesus. Well, he was half right.
“Oh! Okay. And Ricki, you don’t have to be so mean,” she said. She turned back to me then. Joy. “I’m Shaw-nee. Not Shawn. Not Shawna. Shaw… nee.”
That damn brow of mine again.
“So, you’re Native American, too, then?” I asked, chastising myself for my rude sense of humor. However, she brought it on herself, and it was absolutely hilarious because she had no clue. Ah, that’s when it’s the best!
“What? Why would you think that? I’m white. Whiter than you are. I’m Irish.” She laughed. “Me. Native American. This bitch,” she said as she shook her head and laughed at me.
Apparently, she didn’t know about the Shawnee Indians either. Shocker.
It was then that I heard some yelling coming from another room, the same direction Will and Big Guy went in.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, staring in the direction of the room.
Homegirl Shaw… nee rolled her eyes. “Yeah. They’re fine. Will owes Jay some money. He was supposed to pay it by now.”
“Really?” I asked. If it was that much of an issue, why didn’t he ask me? I’d have loaned it to him. “How much does he owe him?”
She laughed. “Last I heard – around twenty.”
Twenty? That’s it?
“Thousand,” she said, having seen the clear confusion on my face.
I nearly choked. “Twenty THOUSAND?” I asked. “How in the hell does he owe him that much money?”
“Will said that ‘sales have been slow.’ Around here, sales don’t get slow. He can move just about anything we give him if he tried.”
My gut tightened and I nearly puked. My best friend. The best friend I’d had my entire life, grew up with, had sleepovers with, graduated with, then fell in love with… He was a – drug dealer?
“You didn’t know?” Shawnee asked. She laughed. “Apparently, you ain’t as cool as he said you are. He doesn’t tell you shit.”
For once, good ol’ Shawnee had something right. He hadn’t told me shit. I had no idea he was mixed up in anything like that. He never acted like he was stoned, high, fucked up, or any other combination of words there were for it. Hell, I didn’t even think he smoked pot!
The shouting got louder then. It wasn’t calming down. It was escalating quickly. There was a loud crash, and I jumped up from my seat, heading for the door across the room.
“Don’t go in there!” Shawnee yelled, grabbing my hand and pulling me backward.
“I have to make sure he’s okay!” I said, pulling away and bolting for the door.
Opening the door, I saw something I never in a million years thought I’d see on that particular day. It was supposed to be a great day. I woke up, had a cup of coffee, said cup of coffee was a bit too much that early and made me sick, felt better and later had breakfast, called my friend, planned for paintball… See where I’m going with this? It was a normal fucking day!
I stared across the room at Big Guy – AKA Jay. He was standing no more than five feet away from barrel to Will. The gun pointed directly at Will’s head.
“Please,” Will said. “I’ll get the money. I’ll sell all of it.”
Jay looked over and saw me standing there, probably as pale as Irish out there and my eyes the size of flapjacks. Flapjacks. I should have told Not-Shawna my name was that. If she’d asked me then “what the fuck kinda name is Flapjacks?” I then could have looked at her and excitedly said, “I know, right? Where did that even come from? Who is Jack? And why is he flappy?”
My damn thoughts again… Never too far away, even in danger.
“I don’t think you will,” Jay said, still staring me down.
“I’ll help him,” I blurted out without thinking.
“Mia, no!” Will called out.
Jay smiled. “Actually, I think she’s onto something here. You aren’t nearly motivated enough.”
“I’m very motivated. I swear. I’ll get the money,” Will said. “I still have all of it. It’s not like I’ve been using it or giving out freebies. I just haven’t sold it. I can give it back to you if you have someone that would do better. Please just keep her out of it.”
“I don’t want the product,” Jay said. “I want productivity.”
Oh. Big word. I wasn’t sure anyone around here spoke with those.
“I can! I will!” Will exclaimed.
Jay smiled again, looking from Will to me. “I think you’re right. I think you’ll be much more motivated.”
And with those short few words, the gun was fired. Directly into my chest. At first, I didn’t feel anything. I just looked down at the blood soaking the front of my shirt, shocked beyond all reason that the day had taken such a sharp turn. Then I collapsed to the floor.
~ ~ ~
My eyes opened wide, another sharp intake of breath threatening to kill me. I stared in the mirror, unable to look away.
Impossible…
My eyes…
They were glowing. They were turning from blue to red, but the red seemed to glow. The outermost part of my iris jet black, as black as my pupils. My breathing picked up as I felt a sharp pop in my chest. Had my heart exploded? What the hell was that?
I wanted to scream, but the pain was so terrible that I couldn’t even manage a sound. It was taking all I had just to breathe. Looking at my chest in the mirror, I saw the unbelievable taking place. My ribs and my sternum were moving by themselves. Each side of the sternum coming together, the bone grinding against bone. The sound was horrible, but the stabbing agony was worse.
How did it happen? Within seconds, the bones were fused back together. I watched as new bone grew, melting each side in place as it should have been all along, not even a scar to show for it. Next, the skin began to pull. This time, I did cry out.
I heard something hit the floor from behind me. How I hadn’t seen their reflections in the mirror, I didn’t know. I must have been totally focused on the unnatural thing happening before me. Two women, nurses or medical students, stood in the room, staring at me. I could sense their fear and it seemed to radiate off of them. One started to run.
“Stop!” I shouted.
She did as I asked. Her compliance was immediate. Absolutely no hesitation made. She didn’t speak, nor did she scream. She simply stood exactly where I’d told her to.
“You can’t leave,” I said. “I need help!”
The woman that had never moved spoke then. “What do you need help with?” Her voice was calm, smooth.
I didn’t know what to say. They were following my every direction.
“Something’s wrong. The doctor pronounced me dead, didn’t he?” I asked.
The runner turned to me then. “He did. At 13:17.”
“That is a time I�
�ll never forget,” I said.
“What can we help you with?” Runner asked.
“My chest,” I said. Even as I looked down the skin was healing. The incision had already closed and the scarring was growing smaller and smaller. “What’s happening to me?”
“We don’t know,” the other woman said. “We’re only medical students. We’ve never seen anything like this.”
I had to come up with a plan. Even if it had only been momentarily, I had died from a gunshot wound. I needed to get out of there before I was cut into again and experimented on.
“I need both of you to help me out of here. Um…” I was thinking on my feet then. I had no idea what I was doing.
Looking down, I saw the things they’d dropped. There was a stack of towels and some sheets.
“I suppose that you’re here to clean me up and take me to the morgue. Is that right?” I asked.
“Yes,” Runner said.
“Okay. Well, that’s what we’re going to do. Give me some wet cloths, so I can start cleaning myself up. Then you’re going to cover me with a sheet and take me to the morgue. I’ll figure things out from there.”
“But if we do that, then everyone will continue to think you’re dead. That means you can’t go back to your old life when you leave here,” the other woman said. “Your family hasn’t yet been notified, but they will be once you reach the morgue and the paperwork has been filed.”
She had a point.
“True dat. Okay. Ideas? Ladies, we need to get moving here before someone comes in here and sees a zombie moving around,” I said.
“Are you? A zombie, I mean,” Runner asked.
“I have no idea what the hell is going on right now,” I said. “I could be, for all I know, but I’m walking and talking for right now, so let’s just go with it.”
“We could stitch you up,” the other woman said.
“What?” I asked. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
“We could stitch you up. We could say that when we came in here you’d managed to free yourself and were pulling the tube out. We can say that we immediately closed you up and have moved you to post-op. You’ll have to endure a physical, though. So, just act like you’re in a lot of pain,” she said.
