It’s a miracle I’m alive right now.
A nurse enters the room and sees that I’m awake. “Hey. You’re ok.”
“What happened? Am I all right?”
“You were shot. Twice. You had surgery. The doctor was able to get both bullets out. You were really lucky. The bullet didn’t hit your spine. Can you wiggle your toes for me.”
I’m able to. The relief that floods through me almost makes me cry and I’m not a crier.
“That’s good. That’s great. It means you’re not paralyzed. Now, can you move each arm for me.”
I’m able to raise them both up.
“You got very lucky.”
“I don’t think getting shot makes me lucky,” I grumble.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll have the doctor come look at you.”
“I can’t stay. I need to get out of here.”
“You need to rest. We need to keep you under observation for the next few days to make sure you’re ok.”
“My wife is in danger. I need to get to her.”
“How is she in danger?”
I scoff. I can’t explain this to the nurse. She won’t understand. “Never mind.”
“All right. I’ll get the doctor.”
The moment she’s gone, I pull my IV out and force my body to stand up. It takes all my strength to do it. Fuck, does it hurt. But nothing will stop me from getting to Natalya. Nothing.
I stumble out of the room in nothing but a hospital gown. The nurse notices me leaving and rushes to my side.
“Please. You have to get back in bed. You need to rest.”
“I’ll sign fucking discharge papers. I’ll say I left of my own free will. But I’m leaving.”
“You could die. You could develop an infection.”
“Then I’ll just come back. But I have to go. Now give me the fucking papers.”
A doctor appears with his hands raised, trying to appease me back into bed. “You don’t need to do this. Let us treat you.”
“I’m leaving! Give me the fucking papers.”
“You should talk to our counselor we have on staff,” the doctor suggests.
“No. I’m not talking to a fucking shrink. I’m leaving. So either give me the papers or I’m leaving and you can’t stop me. You can’t hold me here against my will.”
The doctor and nurse share a look before the nurse heads behind the nurse station and hands me a sheet of paper to sign. I sign it without even looking at it.
“Now, I need some fucking clothes.”
I leave the hospital in a hoodie and jeans they had from the lost and found. I have to get back home and grab a gun and then I’m going to Denis’s house and I’m going to fucking shoot him.
I make it home, even though I’m in pain the entire fucking time.