Rules of Survival | afi

aftermath

"Strength does not come from winning.
Your struggles develop your strengths.
When you go through hardships and
decide not to surrender,
that is strength."

-Arnold Schwarzenegger

••••

"They should wake within the hour."

"Strategist Hood would really like to see them both."

"The ceremony is tonight."

"Are you sure we don't need to reschedule it?"

Small, chattering voices pull me out of the dark sludge I've been in. At first that's all I register, soft noises in the blackness, but then my mind clears and my eyes flutter open.

The first thing I notice is the heavy feeling in my whole body, like my organs have turned to stone. The second is the consistent beeping next to me, and the oxygen mask over my face.

Out of habit, I reach up to yank it off. Even that movement is jarring. The room immediately goes quiet as I hoist myself up into a sitting position and look around.

I'm in a large room painted entirely in light tones, with large windows on one side and tile on the other. There's a group of four or five people in uniform in the back corner, staring at me. I'm sitting on a hospital bed, several IV's in my arm, and next to me in an identical one is Ashton.

The relief is so intense, it knocks the breath out of me.

He's alive. Alive. The tight knot of worry in my chest unravels itself, my eyes taking in the large bandage over his chest, the blood bags hanging from his IV wrack.

The memory is like a needle breaking through skin, painfully clear and fast. The bitter metallic taste of blood, flesh under my teeth. The nausea rises without warning and I'm doubling over, hurling up everything that was left in my stomach.

This catches the attention of the uniformed people in the corner, and within seconds I'm surrounded by concerned faces and idle hands. I just keep throwing up, hunched over the side of the bed, and every time I think it's going to stop the ghost of a taste danced across my tongue and I start again.

Eventually, I can't throw up anymore because my stomach is empty. At this point, the uniformed people have already put a trash can under me and gotten me a tall glass of water. I ignore the woman's outstretched hand and point to the iv in my arm.

"What's this?" I ask, my voice hoarse and shaky. It's an adjustment for sure, meeting new faces and knowing that I don't have to kill them. Knowing I don't have to feel threatened.

"Pain medication. The healing serum fixed your surface wounds but internally, there's a lot of bruising." The uniformed woman says. "Please, drink."

I stare at the glass of liquid in her hand, studying closely to see if there could be anything other than water inside. After a tentative conclusion that I'm probably safe, I grab it and gulp it down in three huge swallows.

The pain meds are strong, that's for sure. My whole body feels heavy, dragging, everything is merely a dull ache. I force myself to sit up, my gaze shifting to Ashton.

As if on cue he shifts. Adjusts his body on the bed, rolls his head slightly to the side. His breathing briefly stutters.

"What did you do to him?" I ask, a hint of panic in my voice. "What's that stuff in his iv? How did y-"

"Pain meds, just like yours." The lady holds her hands up. "Mrs King, you're both going to be just fine. Mr Irwin sustained critical injuries to his torso and had to undergo lots of surgery to correct the damage. His body is just now warding off the anesthesia."