She hesitates. Glances at the sleeping figures in the corner. Finally lowers her volume. “Let me just—”
“Morphine,” I repeat.
She moves to the IV. Checks something. Takes her sweet fucking time about it.
But at least she’s quiet now.
“Please.” The word costs me. Begging isn’t my style. But the pain is eating me alive and I need Jess and Ben gone before they see me like this.
The rational part of my mind tries to tell me they’ve already seen me like this.
I ignore it.
Finally the nurse adjusts the drip. About fucking time. The relief is almost immediate. Not complete. But enough that I can breathe without wanting to claw my own face off.
Then again, given the agony I’m feeling in my jaw and cheek, and the bandage around my head, I have to wonder how much of my face is left to claw.
She quietly checks my vitals (against my fucking wishes I might add) and then finally leaves.
Alone again in the dim room.
Except I’m not alone.
Jess and Ben are still here.
Still sleeping.
Still too close to this disaster.
I need them out. Need them gone before I fall apart completely. I don’t want them to see me begging for morphine like my life depends on it.
Which it does.
The door opens again. Ethan this time. Still in his paramedic uniform. What’s he doing here? Just finished a shift? Certainly looks tired as hell.
He sees me awake. His expression shifts. Relief mixed with something else. Concern maybe.
“Hey.” He keeps his voice low. Moves to the chair beside the bed but doesn’t sit. Looks at me. Hard. Like he’s assessing damage.
I turn my head toward the corner. Toward Jess and Ben.
“Get them the fuck out,” I hiss. My voice is still fucked but clearer now that the morphine is working. Or maybe less clear. I can’t tell anymore. I’m certainly feeling drowsy as hell, and fighting the urge to go to sleep again. At least the pain is dull. Still there, but dull. “Before they wake up. I don’t want them to see me like this.”
Ethan follows my gaze. Studies the sleeping figures. Then looks back at me.
“Marco—”
“I mean it.” I try to put my usual command in my voice, but it comes out desperate instead. More like a plea. “Get them out. Take them home. Anywhere. Just. Not here.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he leans back.
“Ben’s been asking for you,” he says quietly. “Every hour. ‘Is Daddy awake yet?’ Jess has been running herself into the ground keeping her calm.”
The guilt twists in my chest. Sharper than the pain.
“That’s why they need to leave,” I press. “This isn’t... they shouldn’t have to see.”
“See what? That her father is alive?” Ethan’s voice is gentle but firm. “Marco. They need to see you’re okay. They need to know you’re still here.”
