sub·lime
/səˈblīm/
adjective
❝ of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe ❞
The year was 1987, and delinquency was all the rage. For high school senior Sydney O'Connell, however, it was more of a lifestyle. Being a...
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seattle, washington 1987
CHAPTER ONE
Trash bags, as it turns out, are not good at breaking falls.
Although Sydney was only conscious for a moment after the fall, the pain he felt when his bones broke and his head felt metal was enough for him to wish himself dead.
He was unconscious and bleeding out for about an hour before someone had found him, or at least that's what he heard when he awoke in a hospital bed.
The bright white lights of the room sting his eyes as Sydney jolts awake, strapped to several machines. His breathing tube causes him to gag, catching the attention of one of the nurses in the room.
"He's awake! Page Dr. Cullen!" The nurse orders the other as she pulls the tube from Sydney's throat.
She attempts to calm him down, but Sydney's wild nature pushes him into a frenzy. He barks back profanities at the nurse in an attempt to make a run for it. Sydney knew not where he was but he sure as hell wasn't planning on staying.
But just as he manages to push the nurse off him and swing his legs off the bed, he realizes that his right leg is in a full cast and falls face first onto the smooth linoleum. It is cool against his cheek.
A gasp is heard shortly after the other nurse waltzes into the room with a tall, pale man by her side. Sydney eyeballs them from the floor with a defeated face, and allows the doctor to help him up. Sydney's lips let past a sharp hiss- as the doctor's cold fingers dig through his hospital gown.
The doctor smoothly takes a step back from Sydney, clasping his hands behind his back with an easy smile. The nurses behind him on the other hand, scowl back at Sydney before leaving the room.
"I see the pain medication is working perfectly, otherwise you would've felt your broken leg from the fall."
Sydney eyes the doctor's white coat, mentally tracing the cursive writing along his left breast: Cullen M.D.
"Sure," Sydney deadpans, looking everywhere and anywhere for unattended medical equipment that could possibly aid in his escape.
"Are you looking for something, son?" Dr. Cullen asks, noticing his line of sight.
Flinching at the last word, Sydney shakes his head and feels where his pockets would've been for a smoke.
"Actually, do you happen to have a cig on you?"
If he wasn't on so many pain meds, he would've sworn the doctor looked like Paul Newman when he cracked a smile. It was weird.
