Swiftly Told Tales (Taking Prompts/ Requests!)

Blue Scrubs, Red Blood - Part 2

This was written for Kenzi! Part 2 of her wonderful Doctor prompt. She's the dang best. Seriously, give her a follow. @Kenzi95!!

Drop a comment for what story/prompt you want to read next!

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Every crevice and corner of her; from sticky skin, missing molars, torn tendons, to broken bones; it's pure, utter agony.

She does not wake like the film's had told her so. She does not forget, she does not come in to remembering. Like a feather tickling at her toes, light, caressing at first, then itchy and violently trying to escape it; she is stirred into awakening from her heavily medicated slumber.

She knows she's been in an accident, that she has no doubt hit her head. But it's... somethings wrong. Very wrong. She just can't define it.

Peeling open her gaze to blind light, theres the same tiles played above as she had closed her eyes to. Blinking rather rapidly as angry acid roils with disscontempt, can feel it working it's way up her throat. She does not want to get sick. She's in enough pain as it is, the last thing she-oh god, she feels ill. Completely awful.

"Hey, it's okay." Rolling her head to face the voice, to where the man is knelt at eye level by her bedside. Adorned in navy scrubs, he says, "I know it's a lot. Breathe with me." Eclectic coloured florals behind him, scattered cards taped lopsided on the yellow lit walls.

Everything hurts and she's gonna, she's gonna be....

"Imma," She croaks, unable to fit the rest of the sentence through her constricted throat. She swallows around green gills. "Sick."

He looks momentarily puzzled. "Sorry kiddo, I didn't quite hear that. Say again? You in discomfort?"

She coughs, spittle wet down her chin, gagging, before clarity spreads cleanly over the mans softly calculating features. A wrinkle appearing between his worried brows. "Oh, okay. Let me grab-" Looking from side to side with searching eyes. Goes to make a move to grab something, but she needs to sit up, needs to- "No, no, try and not move too much. The brace will pinch your neck." Pulling her weight she finds, she finds she can't. A red alarm blares. Everything's heavy-her body, it's cemented in it's spot. But she's coughing, it's coming. She can't, she has to-

"Ah, you poor soul. I've got you. Ah-ha, here," Her beady black bloodshot eyes follow him. Her body moves with his helping hands, stethoscope swinging near her face, then it's not. Theres a bucket and he's saying more things as she almost convulses, "Take it easy now, okay? You've been in a rough accident, yeah?" He sits at her hip where he's rolled her onto her side, holding her up against stacked pillows with a bucket in the other hand.

She understands, she nods, but then she's vomiting up stomach acid and an ugly gasoline like colour of sour tasting food. Emptying her insides out. Gagging against it, heaving through it. She needs to hold the bucket, tuck away loose hair, but her hands smack numbly at her face. Oh god, feline fingers barely feeling the contact, built of brick. "Slow down, Sarah. You'll aspirate it." Red trickles from her IV, the tape straining to keep the needle in place. "Watch your back, kiddo."

Panic envelopes her in it's tight embrace. Staring holes into her deft hands; mortified, terrified, and horrified. Suddenly it's all too real. It's not just pain, it's not just-just an ache and, "My, I don't," She tries. "I-I can't."

"Wait, do you remember what your parents brought you this morning? Sarah? Whats the last you remember?" She, she doesn't understand. Everything's jumbled and, and, "Okay. It's okay. I know, it's a lot. I know. Just focus on relaxing your throat. I'll answer whatever questions you have, just try and get through this, okay? Breathe for me."