Page 11 of Pippin & Nacho

His eyes were filled with so much pain. Deep down, I knew he was only doing what he felt was best, but I’d rather fucking bleed to death.

“Why?” I cried.

“I can’t let you bleed out, Sam. Maybe it will heal, but it won’t heal right and you’ll end up with an infection. What if you injured more than your skin? I… I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t let them see,” I said, meaning our family. If I was being forced into this, I didn't want anyone to know. No one could.

“You got it.”

Nate helped me to stand, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulder as I limped toward the parking lot. We left our boards behind, but I was sure one of our crew would grab them.

A few minutes later, I heard the siren, and my heart felt like it was seizing. I tried to pull away as soon as I saw the EMT truck with flashing lights.

“No, no, no…”

“Sam?”

I choked on a sob as soon as a paramedic stepped out, rushing toward me, but when I yanked away from Nate, I fell on my ass and tried to scramble away, only making me bleed more.

“No!”

The tears spilled, and I suddenly faced the asphalt and threw up.

“Sam!”

Nate grabbed my hand and rubbed it soothingly, but nothing would calm me. I couldn’t think. My mind blinked in and out, back and forth from my past to my present. I only heard a smattering of words.

“He’s afraid…”

“Phobia?”

“... sedation.”

“... panic attack.”

“Sam,” said a man’s voice I didn’t recognize. “Breathe, Sam.”

I shook my head, gasping for breath, but my lungs had seized as they lifted my body off the ground.

Suddenly, I was lying down on a bed, and a mask was put on my face. Air. I inhaled and gasped. The tears kept spilling, and my mind couldn’t focus on anything. Lights. Beeps. A needle. Nate’s face with chocolate eyes full of worry. Then the warmth, as my eyes rolled up into my head, and my muscles relaxed.

The paramedics bandaged up my knee as they drove off toward my living hell. If I died and went to hell, a hospital full of doctors would be where I would spend eternity.

I was aware, but I wasn’t. My mind was still in and out, but my body no longer trembled and I stopped crying. Nate’s hand was in mine, I could feel his soothing rubs, and his long fingers entwined with mine.

I was angry with him, but I couldn’t feel it in the true sense of the word. The drugs numbed me and my body could barely move.

“Sam, you’re doing so good. You’re so brave.” Nate’s words sounded like we were underwater. Were we underwater? I felt light yet heavy, as if floating. I hated the water. Could we even talk underwater?

“We’re almost there. They’ll just stitch you up, and we’ll be on our way home before you know it.”

My mouth was thick, and I couldn’t find words to speak.

Suddenly the truck jolted, and I was hauled out and rushed inside the hospital. The panic tried to rise, but the drugs kept it back. I didn’t like not feeling anything, yet I was grateful for it.

Nate was talking, but I couldn’t follow along. Everything after that was a blur. A doctor. A nurse. I recoiled, but they couldn’t see it or ignored it. Pressure on my upper arm squeezed me. Needles. More stinging and then numbness. Tugging on my skin. I think they tried to talk to me. Nate smiled down at me, stroking my hair.

I focused on his face. His face of safety. But was he safe? He was trying to help me. He didn’t want me hurting. He made me suffer in this place.

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