Bloody turquoise eyes | JJK x OC

Canto XVI - Baptismus Sanguinis

His vision was blurred as was his hearing, but his head was afflicted with a throbbing headache that prevented him from forming even the most basic thoughts. From the neck down he felt almost nothing, an enormous effort even to move a finger as if he had no control over his body. What he could understand was the position in which he lay, left prone on an insufficiently soft surface, his torso slightly tilted upwards. A continuous beep, constant in its intervals accompanied him in his half-sleep together with a dim light above his head. As time passed, noises and flashes became more and more clear and outlined, until the contours assumed their real features in his turquoise eyes.

A little Gabriele woke up in a room that was not his, in a bed that was not his. Around him, he saw machines of which he did not know the name or function, he only knew that various cables were protruding from them that were somehow connected to his person.

In fact, he was covered with these cables and pipes, only later did he realize that he had a mask on his face tied to an elastic band.

In front of his bed two adults, one in a white coat, the other in aqua-green overalls, were discussing something but his hearing was still muffled, preventing him from fully understanding the words that were being said. Gabriele and the lady in overalls exchanged a look in a very fortuitous way, from that moment on the boy saw panic crack her facial expression. Immediately the nurse informed the doctor of the fact and ran out of the room. The remaining woman approached the bed, brushing a lock of dark hair away from her face and lowering to his eye level:

"Hello, Gabriele." She began trying not to appear threatening to the little one, "You'll have a lot of questions to ask, let me dispel any doubts." Gabriele was about to answer, but the doctor was quick to interrupt him in time.

"Don't overexert yourself, your throat needs time to heal from the surgery." She told him.

The boy's eyes widened, first in confusion then in a state of fear that made him tremble. The doctor took note of the matter and immediately tried to reassure him, first of all explaining where he was and what had happened in these hours: "Right now you are in the intensive care unit of the Bambin Gesù in Rome, today is September 27, 2005, and you are not in any kind of danger." The woman particularly marked the last words, which immediately had an effect on the anxiety of the child, in turn calming the adult.

"You'll need to stay here for a few days so we can make sure everything is in order. In the meantime, I need you-" A couple of knocks sent them both turning towards the door. An elderly black man leaned across the door on his cane, graying hair and beard kept short, eyes dark and cold in contrast to his welcoming smile, all dressed in a priestly tunic.

"Father Moses, it's not visiting hours at the moment."

"My apologies, Doctor," he spoke in a deep voice, "but when I learned that a tragedy has shattered one of the families in my parish, I felt compelled to pay him a visit." Slowly the man approached, Gabriele followed him with his gaze as he took a chair and moved it close to the bed before sitting down.

"My boy, tell me how do you feel now?"

"He has just had very delicate surgery on his larynx and trachea, Father." The doctor interjected, "The gash, fortunately, did not affect the apparatus to require a tracheostomy, the vocal cords instead are almost irreversibly compromised." The priest nodded, understanding the reason behind the highly sought-after words in such a way that the child did not understand the seriousness of what had happened, although it was useless to hide something of such an impact. For real, how long do they think they can keep a four-year-old put before he tries to speak? Before he cries his heart out at the realization that no sound will ever leave his throat ever again?