Mistake » John Murphy

Bedridden

Chapter 21

I'm not the smartest of humans, let's get that idea out of the way. I'm never going to invent a time machine, and I'm never going to invent a way to colour the sky pink or whatever. But I can say that despite these things, I often believe I have a good idea about the intentions of others. I'm don't get tricked into doing something stupid that could harm me or another person... well, at least I never used to. But today was a learning curve: don't do drugs.

I'm not even sure how I'm alive right now. I should be dead. I should've drowned in the river. I don't understand. I just don't understand.

Here, let's test something out.

Step 1: Wiggle my toes.

One wiggle.

Two wiggle.

Three wiggle.

I wiggles my toes three times! A dead person can't do that.

Step 2: Move my hand.

One by one, I make sure each finger can touch my palm.

A dead person definitely can't do that.

Finally test.

Step 3: Open my eyes.

One blink.

Two blink.

Three blink.

Before I open my eyes fully and see a bright light over my head.

Huh?

Where am I?

I look around at my surroundings, and confusion only follows.

A tent? I'm in a tent?

Then realisation hits me as I spot Kai, sleeping over in the corner.

I'm in camp. I'm back. But how? And why? Why would they want me back?

A millions thought race through my head as I try to piece together what happened.

Last thing I remember was... my son!

My eyes move to my belly.

Yup. Still pregnant.

Is he okay, though? I am okay? I feel okay, but hard to say.

I attempt to pull myself up from the bed, but find agony as my companion.

Fuck!!!!!

I hurt. But where?

I begin to examine my body.

Chest: clear

Belly: clear

Legs: clear- not clear! Nowhere near clear.

It seems my journey down in the lake, resulted in a gash, the size of my foot, down the side of my leg.

Fuck my life!

What the hell am I supposed to do now? Be bedridden until I give birth? Be a useless sack of potatoes whilst everybody else enjoys themselves? I don't fucking think so!

I to get up again, this time gritting my teeth as the pain occurs.

No way will I stay in bed. Not now, not ever.

As I move to put pressure on my leg, my cries escape me, and I find myself being held back by one Malachai Parker.

"Quinn, you need to rest! You've been hurt. Clarke's almost here."