To Remember 2 : The Call ( Hoodie X Reader ) BOOK 2

Silent Scream

Beep beep beep.

You groan, reaching a tired arm over to your bedside table to shut off your alarm. But after a few seconds of patting around, you realize your alarm wasn't there.

You swing your arm around in a fatal attempt to shut off the alarm, only to hit a metal pole. As the pole chrashed to the ground with a clang, a sharp, ripping pain tears through your arm. You scream in pain, jolting up in bed as multiple alarms started to go off. But you couldn't hear your own scream. You couldn't see anything except a pitch black surrounding, so you continue to try and scream, attempting to force terror and agony out through your vocal cords.

The last thing you remembered was pain. A suffocating pain in your head. But you'd been at a party, with your friends. At the abandoned log factory. What had happened to you?

You continued to try and scream. You couldn't hear your screams. But the alarms blared in your ears. Terror pounded through your veins, a suffocating pain battered your head. You continued to try and scream. But before you could hear your own screams, hands grasped your arms. Multiple. Three, maybe four. They clutched your arms so tight, you thought your skin would break open. You continue your attempts to scream, kicking your legs violently to get away from the hands.

However, your attempts were a failure. More hands came, grasping your shoulders and legs and holding you down, restraining you. Your attempts to move were futile. Something sharp rested against your temple, but every try you made to move resulted in the hands holding you down tighter.

A pressure was released from around your head. The alarms died away, and a wet liquid started running down your forehead, a bright light blinding you. Once the light blinded you, the hands let go. Footsteps seemed to back away from you, to your surroundings in a hushed silence. You stop screaming, the sound of your voice overtaking the alarms.

Opening your eyes slowly, you look around at where you were. People in lab coats circled you, each looking shocked, confused, and amazed. "Where am I?!?" you screech, shaking in anger and fear, tears of relieved terror flowing down your cheeks.

One of the lab-coat figures took a step towards you, saying, "You're in the hospital, (y/n). You got a nasty head wound, and it isn't healed yet so you bandages back on!" You reach a shaky hand up to your face, wiping off some of the wet liquid and pulling your hand away to see blood on your fingers, wattered down by your tears. "My name is Dr. Robinson, I'm here to help," the coated figure tells you. He reaches a hand out to your head, a clean cloth wrap.

"Devin," Dr. Robinson scolds, "go get some numbing medicine so I can try to stitch the head injury." A black-haired doctor with a smile drawn onto his surgical mask nods and turns to leave. You stare at the smiling doctor as he leaves the room, chills running down your spine.

Don't trust him, a voice in your head whispers. You shake your head slowly, saying, "It would be easier to staple, wouldn't it? Or something without numbing medicine needed." Dr. Robinson laughed, patting your shoulder as he said, "The only thing I can do without numbing medicine would be to glue the wound closed and hope for the best. But you'd have to be careful, (y/n)."

"I will be," you shout quickly, "I'll be as careful as you want, just please don't give me any more medicine."

Dr. Robinson nodded, murmuring, "Of course, we could only imagine how traumatic your coma state would have been." His dull green eyes glazed over, a small sigh escaping his lips. He waved the other doctors out of the room, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a tube of medical glue.

"Where's my mom," you blurt, suddenly filled with dread, "where's my dad?"

"They just left," Dr. Robinson replied with a steady voice, opening the glue. "Visiting hours just ended, they've been here all day." He looks dowm at the arm that was causing you pain, saying, "So that's why you were screaming, you ripped your PIIC Line out."

Whem you gave him a confused look, he contined, "It's a medical tube from where you ripped it out all the way into your heart, so any needed nutrients for you were put directly into your system. So when you knocked the pole over, you ripped out the stitches to keep it in place. The tube being pulled out isn't exactly painful, it was the stitches that hurt you."

"Oh," you say slowly. Dr. Robinson nodded in amusement, putting a sterile cloth over where the PICC Line was before gently pressing the glue nozzle to where the cut must have been. "Stay still, (y/n)," he said quietly.