Post by Emmy on Aug 4, 2011 20:38:59 GMT -5
soooo....yeah. here is the novel i'm writing for Camp nanowrimo. xD I thought you guys should read it.
It’s over, he muses. I can never atone for all these sins I’ve committed.
William can’t get those thoughts out of his weary mind. Ever since that young teenage boy had committed the ultimate act, suicide, he’d been contemplating, even more so than usual. Were his trespasses really as well off as he’d thought? He knows that they weren’t all paid for; that much was obvious. He was only in his forties. He has much to learn as God’s servant.
But he was not going to spend time in purgatory. That much he was sure of. He is going to try his very hardest, and he will be rewarded.
But he couldn’t help noticing the child in the carseat a few feet away. His skin is so perfect. He has a clean slate. There was no sin in infants, surely. . .
A crazy idea flashes through his mind. At first, it is dismissed, as too insane to even try.
But doubt creeps in.
What if he raises the perfect child? A being without sin. Yes, yes, I will be the first to try! he thinks, in happiness. He will be a legend.
Without hesistation, William walks over to the baby. While the mother attends to her other, older, child, William picks up the carseat and strolls away. By the time he has loaded the baby into his car, the woman has noticed. There is a heartbroken scream as William starts the car and drives away.
The baby’s older brother watches the man with contempt, which is an expression not usually worn by a four year old. His mother breaks down crying, while other people in the park crowd around her. Nobody appears to have seen William take the child, except for the young boy. But, yet, no one seems to have the notion to even ask the little child.
So started the line of children.
years later
Father William presses his hand to his temples. This wasn’t going as well as he wants. So many attempts--and so many defeats.
One, Two, and Three were utter failures. They were gone by the time they were one year old. Four and Five were slightly better; they lasted till toddlerhood. Six through Eleven failed at various ages, ranging from 5 to 17.
But Twelve, oh Twelve. She was the best. She was one month away from turning 21, the age at which Father William had convinced himself that he would be credited for raising the perfect child. Twelve would make him King. Everyone would bow down, to him. . . William smiles, his face creasing into laugh lines.
Pride comes before the fall.
The clock strikes 6:00 am. It is no earlier, and no later. Twelve sits up immediately. Her internal clock knows two times; 6am and 9pm. When she goes to sleep and when she awakens. She gets to her feet and her thin mattress is sucked back into the wall. Twelve successfully fights the urge to yawn and waits patiently for Father William to enter her living quarters. After he checked her through and through for hints of sin, she would consume her breakfast and then return to her studies. This was like any other day in her 20 years of life, as Experiment Number Twelve in Father William’s Quest for Perfection.
After a few moments of waiting, she starts to wonder if this is a morning when he won’t come in first thing, and will do so at lunch. Her eyes flit to the food chute. If it is such a morning, then the food will come at any time now.
However her doubts cease when the alarms begin to blare. It is to warn her to shut her eyes, so she will not get a glimpse of the dreadful, disgusting, vile world outside. She hears Father William’s shoes clank against the hard metal floor and opens her eyes when she feels his hand rest on her shoulder.
She then smiles serenely at the only face she has ever known.
“Good morning, Twelve.” he says politely, looking up at the girl he has raised. He studies her long black curls, and the hazel eyes he knows so well. She is a few inches taller than he is, but he accounts this to his old age. She really is a beautiful child, he thinks to himself. If you could look past the deathly white skin, caused by minimal exposure to the sun. He only opened windows when her eyes were closed, so she could gain the vitamin D she needed. Otherwise, she had never seen the Sun.
He takes her smooth hands into his wrinkled ones and tries to feel any sin. He has come to make himself believe that she can’t commit sin. He wouldn’t throw twenty years of hard work on this child all away for one little sin.
Just one more month. he reminds himself. One more and his ticket to heaven would be secured. A small smile adorns his lips. William nods to his Experiment, signaling that she had yet again passed his test, if it even was one anymore. It was more a ritual, now.
She was his very reason for living anymore. Being over eighty five years old, William was so ready to be done with this all.
He snaps his fingers and a hole opens in the metal wall. A plate of fresh warm food deposits itself onto the table, and Twelve looks to him questioningly. He nods again, and she slowly walks over to the chair and seats herself. Despite being famished, Twelve forces herself to take small, dainty bites. It is a sign of control, and being in control means you have no sin.
Williams smiles again. He was absolutely sure she was the real deal, she would turn out right. He leaves her homework on the table next to her food and, with a final pat on Twelve’s back, he exits the room. He feels so much pride that it has to be a sin.
Twelve writes her name in perfect manuscript on the top of her now finished assignment. She shuts her books quietly and sets the papers on top of them, moving them to a certain spot on her metal table. She presses a button on the wall and the chute that usually deposits her food takes the items. It is now 9:00 pm, and Twelve looks over. Sure enough her mattress is stretching out of the wall, and she strolls over to the side of it. When it is completely out, she climbs onto it and lays flat on her back like a corpse would. She places her hands on her stomach and closes her eyes. In no time, she is fast asleep.
Twelve is a very smart child, don’t doubt it. But it only concerns the Holy Bible and a few other subjects that Father William wanted her to learn. Forget about being street smart. Twelve is more innocent than a six year old child.
But that was all about to change.
“Would you be quiet?!” a voice pierces the silence. Twelve’s eyes shoot open. “We were going to take her while she was sleeping, remember?” It hisses. Twelve sits straight up, breathing shallow and fast. The voice groans. “You woke her up, now, see that? Now she’ll struggle!” says the voice, but much louder this time. The two black figures were very visible against the cold silver of the walls. The smaller one lunges forward and smacks his hand onto her mouth. Twelve tastes blood.
“You’d better be a good little girl.” He whispers in her ear. The voice is different from the other one. “If you want to remain sinless.” She can feel his prickly facial hair against her own smooth skin. It is a very unpleasant feeling. Twelve could feel her heart beating inside her ears; nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She tried to get a good look at his face, partly from sheer panic and some from curiosity. She had never seen anyone besides Father William before. But in the dim light, she couldn’t make out his features very well. She could tell he was much younger than Father, but older than she. He then uses his other hand to yank her up by the collar of her dress, making the fabric choke her. Twelve coughs into his hand, but he doesn’t notice.
“Gary! The door--it’s closing!” The other man yells. He starts to run for it, but the supposed Gary pushes him out of the way, causing him to crash into the bookcases. All the books tumble on top of him and then, as a final insult, the bookcase itself falls on him. He stays still.
He doesn’t seem to care, though, as Gary continues forward, shoving Twelve outside first. She slides on concrete, scraping up her knees. She is just about to examine her wounds when Gary grabs her arm in a death grip and drags her forward, causing more injuries until Twelve manages to get on her feet to run with him.
“To the car! The car!” He is yelling. Twelve is trying to not cry. Her knees are burning; she’s never felt pain like this before. He opens the back door and pushes Twelve in, and she slams her head against the door on the other side. Gary climbs into the driver’s seat and puts the keys into the ignition, pressing the gas pedal down to the floor. They jerk forward and Twelve hits the back of the passenger seat. She groans in pain and lays down on the seat, trying to get her bearings in this mess. Gary turns out onto the road with no caution at all, swerving right and left.
“My pride!” Father William hobbles outside, screaming. “My ticket! MY LIFE!” He trips, and starts to sob. All his hard work is gone.
Twelve can hear it through all the noise, her brain latching onto the one thing that was familiar. She heartbreakingly notices how he never says anything about loving her. He never says anything about her being like a daughter. Never. Just a lost ticket to heaven.
“SHIT!” Gary shrieks and swerves out of the way of an oncoming semi. Twelve has no time to dwell on Father William’s parting words, as Gary loses control of the car and they are speeding straight towards a tree. It makes impact, and Twelve catapults forward from the momentum, flying straight through the glass. She sails through the air, feeling weightless. Then she hits the ground, and it is all black.
chapter 2
“Dear God.” Doctor Levi Shields whispers to himself, as he watches the other staff wheel in the latest ER patient. She’s young, and female, he can tell that much. She’s so bruised and bloody it’s a wonder that she still has a pulse. Levi wonders what exactly happened to her. He walks into the trauma room, hoping he can help somehow.
The nurse saw him walk in and started to rattle off the girl’s condition. “Flew through a windshield. She’s not stable--” She is cut off as the girl’s eyes shoot wide open, and she screams. But it’s not a normal scream; it is very high pitched and weak, as if she hadn’t talked in years.Levi cringed at the sound. This was his third week here, and yet he had never seen anything like this.
“Shields! What the hell are you doing here?” His resident demands. “I didn’t page you. You’re only an intern. Stay off to the side, don’t get in the way.” Levi obeys. He watches them work on the girl, but his eyes keep drifting back to her panicked face. Tears were flowing freely and she was whimpering loudly. Levi changes his mind about obeying and walks over to her head and he brushes long black hair out of her bloodied face. He whispers comforting words to her, but he can’t tell if she understands them or not. She stops making noise and looks up at him, studying him intently. She stops struggling against the other doctors trying to patch up her wounds and set bones. Her eyelids flutter shut and her heart stops.
“Charge to 200!” The senior doctor yells. “CLEAR!” Levi holds his hand up and the other man uses the defibrillator on her. Her back arches, and her heart begins to beat again.
“She needs to go to surgery now,” He says placing the defibrillator back. “Help with the prep, Shields.” Levi nods and assists the others.
“Poor girl, prime of her life.” The nurse murmurs. “We can tell her left femur and humerus are broken, but we have to wait for the X-rays to come back before we know for sure. Her bloodwork is back, too, she’s B negative. No diseases, thankfully.” Levi may had been at this hospital for a short while, but he already knew this nurse talks too much. But this time he was thankful for it as he wants to know more about this case.
Pain. So much pain.
Twelve was so confused. She couldn’t remember anything besides going to bed last night. her clock told her that it was 6 am. So why wasn’t she in bed? Where was she? Suddenly she feels a fiery pain in her left arm and she opens her eyes, screaming. After a moment she can only whimper, as her voice can’t handle a yell for very long at all. Her eyes dart everywhere, at all the people standing over her. She is covered in red stuff--blood?--and quickly she can feel every single scratch, every broken bone. Her heart beats faster and she is hyperventilating.
She feels hands on her face and she looks up. A face looms over her, but it isn’t scary.
“Shh, shh.” He speaks softly, in an assuring tone. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Don’t think about the pain. Look at me. There, there.” He continues talking, but Twelve can only hear the tone of his voice, she can’t make out the words. Everything begins to fade, and then she can feel nothing.
Without any warning a shock courses through her heart and the pain floods back for a moment, and then she passes out.
Luke Shields has seen much in his life, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
When Levi asked for him as a psych consult, he thought it would be someone less. . . broken. Not this girl lying on the bed, with bandages and casts nearly everywhere on her body. She wasn’t even awake. Why did Levi call him now?
Luke sighs and pulls a chair up to the bed. To his surprise, her eyes open, and hazel eyes study him. Her face could be described as expressionless. Luke gives a smile that he hopes looks soothing. Her black curls are piled on top of her head, as to be out of the way. She only had cuts on her head, apparently.
“Hi, sweetheart.” he says softly. “I’m Luke. Can you talk?”
She doesn’t give any sign of hearing him; she just continues to stare at him. Luke shifts in his chair. It was a bit unnerving. But he presses on.
“Sweetheart, we need to know your name. Can you give us that? Please?” Luke asks quietly. He waits patiently for an answer, if she will even give one. She looks down at her hands. Luke follows her gaze. She is flexing all ten fingers, then showing two, over and over again.
“Twelve? Twenty four? Thirty six?” He asks, confused. Does she mean age? Or, is that her real name. . .? Luke dismisses that it is her actual age; she looks older then that. 16, minimum. “Twelve? Is that your name?” He asks. Her lips move, but nothing comes out. Luke must look perplexed, because she does it again; he can make it out this time. Yes.
“Twelve, eh. We’ve made progress.” Luke smiles again. He thinks he sees the slightest twitch of her mouth, as a response.
He’s never felt as accomplished before as he does now.
chapter 3
When Luke comes in for work the next morning, the first thing he wants to do is try to communicate with Twelve again. Levi had told him not to, though; she had another surgery scheduled for today.
“I would tell you all the stuff that’s wrong with her, but you’re going to read it in her chart.” Levi grinned after he had said that and then hung up on Luke. Luke may be the younger brother, but that was no reason for Levi to still act so superior. According to Luke, anyway.
So Luke attends to his daily duties, all the while being too--what was the best word for it?--excited about 3 PM. That was when Levi told him that she would be out of surgery and waking up.
When the hour finally rolled around, Luke was up and off quicker than a cheetah. He asked the receptionist for her room number, just in case it had changed, and for her chart. He read it as he walked there, but slowed to a stop when he was outside her door.
Left femur fracture.
Left humerus fracture.
Internal bleeding.
Punctured lung.
Broken ribs.
Cracked skull.
and so many more conditions and injuries. Luke could barely believe the girl was alive! He walks into the room and sets the chart down on the table next to her bed. She is asleep right now, it looked like. But Luke is proven wrong again when the eyes flew open, wide and panicked. Her mouth opens and she let out some sort of noise, that might have been a scream if she wasn’t intubated. Instead she starts to choke. She raises her right hand to try to rip the tube out. Luke is too stunned to do anything, except babble on and on to Twelve.
“Don’t--no--Twelve, don’t do that! It helps you breathe. Just relax. There, there.” Twelve looked anything but relaxed. She tries to raise her left hand this time to take the tube out but promptly lays it back down, making more frightened noise. Luke doesn’t know what to do. He is only a psychologist.
Levi rushes into Twelve’s room. What had happened? He answers the question himself; she had probably awoken and thought she was choking on the tube.
“Luke! Out! Now!” Levi orders, taking his arm and leading him out himself. His resident was working on Twelve, and her heartbeat was slowing down.
“No, Levi. Stop it.” Luke tries to pry Levi’s fingers off, to no avail. Levi looked at Luke, astounded. Luke never did stuff like that. He may complain later about it, but try to resist Levi in a situation like this? Luke looked at him defiantly.
“Luke George Shields,” Levi begins slowly, not wanting to look like a fool in front of the other hospital staff.
“Don’t pull the Dad card on me!” Luke says in a low tone, sounding dangerous. “You think you’re all that because you’re going to be a surgeon. You fix bodies. But you know what?” Luke pauses, daring Levi to answer. “I fix feelings. Minds. Emotions. There is never a definite answer in my field. So don’t tell me what to do, Levi Carter Shields!” Luke finishes by ripping his arm out of Levi’s grasp, and walking away. Levi rubs the back of his neck. His little brother wasn’t so little anymore. He looks into Twelve’s room, where she has calmed down and they are pushing more pain meds. Levi is no longer needed here. He walks away and into a room for the doctors to sleep, and plops down on a bed.
Thanks, Luke, for making me look like an idiot, He thinks with a sigh.
William can’t get those thoughts out of his weary mind. Ever since that young teenage boy had committed the ultimate act, suicide, he’d been contemplating, even more so than usual. Were his trespasses really as well off as he’d thought? He knows that they weren’t all paid for; that much was obvious. He was only in his forties. He has much to learn as God’s servant.
But he was not going to spend time in purgatory. That much he was sure of. He is going to try his very hardest, and he will be rewarded.
But he couldn’t help noticing the child in the carseat a few feet away. His skin is so perfect. He has a clean slate. There was no sin in infants, surely. . .
A crazy idea flashes through his mind. At first, it is dismissed, as too insane to even try.
But doubt creeps in.
What if he raises the perfect child? A being without sin. Yes, yes, I will be the first to try! he thinks, in happiness. He will be a legend.
Without hesistation, William walks over to the baby. While the mother attends to her other, older, child, William picks up the carseat and strolls away. By the time he has loaded the baby into his car, the woman has noticed. There is a heartbroken scream as William starts the car and drives away.
The baby’s older brother watches the man with contempt, which is an expression not usually worn by a four year old. His mother breaks down crying, while other people in the park crowd around her. Nobody appears to have seen William take the child, except for the young boy. But, yet, no one seems to have the notion to even ask the little child.
So started the line of children.
years later
Father William presses his hand to his temples. This wasn’t going as well as he wants. So many attempts--and so many defeats.
One, Two, and Three were utter failures. They were gone by the time they were one year old. Four and Five were slightly better; they lasted till toddlerhood. Six through Eleven failed at various ages, ranging from 5 to 17.
But Twelve, oh Twelve. She was the best. She was one month away from turning 21, the age at which Father William had convinced himself that he would be credited for raising the perfect child. Twelve would make him King. Everyone would bow down, to him. . . William smiles, his face creasing into laugh lines.
Pride comes before the fall.
The clock strikes 6:00 am. It is no earlier, and no later. Twelve sits up immediately. Her internal clock knows two times; 6am and 9pm. When she goes to sleep and when she awakens. She gets to her feet and her thin mattress is sucked back into the wall. Twelve successfully fights the urge to yawn and waits patiently for Father William to enter her living quarters. After he checked her through and through for hints of sin, she would consume her breakfast and then return to her studies. This was like any other day in her 20 years of life, as Experiment Number Twelve in Father William’s Quest for Perfection.
After a few moments of waiting, she starts to wonder if this is a morning when he won’t come in first thing, and will do so at lunch. Her eyes flit to the food chute. If it is such a morning, then the food will come at any time now.
However her doubts cease when the alarms begin to blare. It is to warn her to shut her eyes, so she will not get a glimpse of the dreadful, disgusting, vile world outside. She hears Father William’s shoes clank against the hard metal floor and opens her eyes when she feels his hand rest on her shoulder.
She then smiles serenely at the only face she has ever known.
“Good morning, Twelve.” he says politely, looking up at the girl he has raised. He studies her long black curls, and the hazel eyes he knows so well. She is a few inches taller than he is, but he accounts this to his old age. She really is a beautiful child, he thinks to himself. If you could look past the deathly white skin, caused by minimal exposure to the sun. He only opened windows when her eyes were closed, so she could gain the vitamin D she needed. Otherwise, she had never seen the Sun.
He takes her smooth hands into his wrinkled ones and tries to feel any sin. He has come to make himself believe that she can’t commit sin. He wouldn’t throw twenty years of hard work on this child all away for one little sin.
Just one more month. he reminds himself. One more and his ticket to heaven would be secured. A small smile adorns his lips. William nods to his Experiment, signaling that she had yet again passed his test, if it even was one anymore. It was more a ritual, now.
She was his very reason for living anymore. Being over eighty five years old, William was so ready to be done with this all.
He snaps his fingers and a hole opens in the metal wall. A plate of fresh warm food deposits itself onto the table, and Twelve looks to him questioningly. He nods again, and she slowly walks over to the chair and seats herself. Despite being famished, Twelve forces herself to take small, dainty bites. It is a sign of control, and being in control means you have no sin.
Williams smiles again. He was absolutely sure she was the real deal, she would turn out right. He leaves her homework on the table next to her food and, with a final pat on Twelve’s back, he exits the room. He feels so much pride that it has to be a sin.
Twelve writes her name in perfect manuscript on the top of her now finished assignment. She shuts her books quietly and sets the papers on top of them, moving them to a certain spot on her metal table. She presses a button on the wall and the chute that usually deposits her food takes the items. It is now 9:00 pm, and Twelve looks over. Sure enough her mattress is stretching out of the wall, and she strolls over to the side of it. When it is completely out, she climbs onto it and lays flat on her back like a corpse would. She places her hands on her stomach and closes her eyes. In no time, she is fast asleep.
Twelve is a very smart child, don’t doubt it. But it only concerns the Holy Bible and a few other subjects that Father William wanted her to learn. Forget about being street smart. Twelve is more innocent than a six year old child.
But that was all about to change.
“Would you be quiet?!” a voice pierces the silence. Twelve’s eyes shoot open. “We were going to take her while she was sleeping, remember?” It hisses. Twelve sits straight up, breathing shallow and fast. The voice groans. “You woke her up, now, see that? Now she’ll struggle!” says the voice, but much louder this time. The two black figures were very visible against the cold silver of the walls. The smaller one lunges forward and smacks his hand onto her mouth. Twelve tastes blood.
“You’d better be a good little girl.” He whispers in her ear. The voice is different from the other one. “If you want to remain sinless.” She can feel his prickly facial hair against her own smooth skin. It is a very unpleasant feeling. Twelve could feel her heart beating inside her ears; nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She tried to get a good look at his face, partly from sheer panic and some from curiosity. She had never seen anyone besides Father William before. But in the dim light, she couldn’t make out his features very well. She could tell he was much younger than Father, but older than she. He then uses his other hand to yank her up by the collar of her dress, making the fabric choke her. Twelve coughs into his hand, but he doesn’t notice.
“Gary! The door--it’s closing!” The other man yells. He starts to run for it, but the supposed Gary pushes him out of the way, causing him to crash into the bookcases. All the books tumble on top of him and then, as a final insult, the bookcase itself falls on him. He stays still.
He doesn’t seem to care, though, as Gary continues forward, shoving Twelve outside first. She slides on concrete, scraping up her knees. She is just about to examine her wounds when Gary grabs her arm in a death grip and drags her forward, causing more injuries until Twelve manages to get on her feet to run with him.
“To the car! The car!” He is yelling. Twelve is trying to not cry. Her knees are burning; she’s never felt pain like this before. He opens the back door and pushes Twelve in, and she slams her head against the door on the other side. Gary climbs into the driver’s seat and puts the keys into the ignition, pressing the gas pedal down to the floor. They jerk forward and Twelve hits the back of the passenger seat. She groans in pain and lays down on the seat, trying to get her bearings in this mess. Gary turns out onto the road with no caution at all, swerving right and left.
“My pride!” Father William hobbles outside, screaming. “My ticket! MY LIFE!” He trips, and starts to sob. All his hard work is gone.
Twelve can hear it through all the noise, her brain latching onto the one thing that was familiar. She heartbreakingly notices how he never says anything about loving her. He never says anything about her being like a daughter. Never. Just a lost ticket to heaven.
“SHIT!” Gary shrieks and swerves out of the way of an oncoming semi. Twelve has no time to dwell on Father William’s parting words, as Gary loses control of the car and they are speeding straight towards a tree. It makes impact, and Twelve catapults forward from the momentum, flying straight through the glass. She sails through the air, feeling weightless. Then she hits the ground, and it is all black.
chapter 2
“Dear God.” Doctor Levi Shields whispers to himself, as he watches the other staff wheel in the latest ER patient. She’s young, and female, he can tell that much. She’s so bruised and bloody it’s a wonder that she still has a pulse. Levi wonders what exactly happened to her. He walks into the trauma room, hoping he can help somehow.
The nurse saw him walk in and started to rattle off the girl’s condition. “Flew through a windshield. She’s not stable--” She is cut off as the girl’s eyes shoot wide open, and she screams. But it’s not a normal scream; it is very high pitched and weak, as if she hadn’t talked in years.Levi cringed at the sound. This was his third week here, and yet he had never seen anything like this.
“Shields! What the hell are you doing here?” His resident demands. “I didn’t page you. You’re only an intern. Stay off to the side, don’t get in the way.” Levi obeys. He watches them work on the girl, but his eyes keep drifting back to her panicked face. Tears were flowing freely and she was whimpering loudly. Levi changes his mind about obeying and walks over to her head and he brushes long black hair out of her bloodied face. He whispers comforting words to her, but he can’t tell if she understands them or not. She stops making noise and looks up at him, studying him intently. She stops struggling against the other doctors trying to patch up her wounds and set bones. Her eyelids flutter shut and her heart stops.
“Charge to 200!” The senior doctor yells. “CLEAR!” Levi holds his hand up and the other man uses the defibrillator on her. Her back arches, and her heart begins to beat again.
“She needs to go to surgery now,” He says placing the defibrillator back. “Help with the prep, Shields.” Levi nods and assists the others.
“Poor girl, prime of her life.” The nurse murmurs. “We can tell her left femur and humerus are broken, but we have to wait for the X-rays to come back before we know for sure. Her bloodwork is back, too, she’s B negative. No diseases, thankfully.” Levi may had been at this hospital for a short while, but he already knew this nurse talks too much. But this time he was thankful for it as he wants to know more about this case.
Pain. So much pain.
Twelve was so confused. She couldn’t remember anything besides going to bed last night. her clock told her that it was 6 am. So why wasn’t she in bed? Where was she? Suddenly she feels a fiery pain in her left arm and she opens her eyes, screaming. After a moment she can only whimper, as her voice can’t handle a yell for very long at all. Her eyes dart everywhere, at all the people standing over her. She is covered in red stuff--blood?--and quickly she can feel every single scratch, every broken bone. Her heart beats faster and she is hyperventilating.
She feels hands on her face and she looks up. A face looms over her, but it isn’t scary.
“Shh, shh.” He speaks softly, in an assuring tone. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Don’t think about the pain. Look at me. There, there.” He continues talking, but Twelve can only hear the tone of his voice, she can’t make out the words. Everything begins to fade, and then she can feel nothing.
Without any warning a shock courses through her heart and the pain floods back for a moment, and then she passes out.
Luke Shields has seen much in his life, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
When Levi asked for him as a psych consult, he thought it would be someone less. . . broken. Not this girl lying on the bed, with bandages and casts nearly everywhere on her body. She wasn’t even awake. Why did Levi call him now?
Luke sighs and pulls a chair up to the bed. To his surprise, her eyes open, and hazel eyes study him. Her face could be described as expressionless. Luke gives a smile that he hopes looks soothing. Her black curls are piled on top of her head, as to be out of the way. She only had cuts on her head, apparently.
“Hi, sweetheart.” he says softly. “I’m Luke. Can you talk?”
She doesn’t give any sign of hearing him; she just continues to stare at him. Luke shifts in his chair. It was a bit unnerving. But he presses on.
“Sweetheart, we need to know your name. Can you give us that? Please?” Luke asks quietly. He waits patiently for an answer, if she will even give one. She looks down at her hands. Luke follows her gaze. She is flexing all ten fingers, then showing two, over and over again.
“Twelve? Twenty four? Thirty six?” He asks, confused. Does she mean age? Or, is that her real name. . .? Luke dismisses that it is her actual age; she looks older then that. 16, minimum. “Twelve? Is that your name?” He asks. Her lips move, but nothing comes out. Luke must look perplexed, because she does it again; he can make it out this time. Yes.
“Twelve, eh. We’ve made progress.” Luke smiles again. He thinks he sees the slightest twitch of her mouth, as a response.
He’s never felt as accomplished before as he does now.
chapter 3
When Luke comes in for work the next morning, the first thing he wants to do is try to communicate with Twelve again. Levi had told him not to, though; she had another surgery scheduled for today.
“I would tell you all the stuff that’s wrong with her, but you’re going to read it in her chart.” Levi grinned after he had said that and then hung up on Luke. Luke may be the younger brother, but that was no reason for Levi to still act so superior. According to Luke, anyway.
So Luke attends to his daily duties, all the while being too--what was the best word for it?--excited about 3 PM. That was when Levi told him that she would be out of surgery and waking up.
When the hour finally rolled around, Luke was up and off quicker than a cheetah. He asked the receptionist for her room number, just in case it had changed, and for her chart. He read it as he walked there, but slowed to a stop when he was outside her door.
Left femur fracture.
Left humerus fracture.
Internal bleeding.
Punctured lung.
Broken ribs.
Cracked skull.
and so many more conditions and injuries. Luke could barely believe the girl was alive! He walks into the room and sets the chart down on the table next to her bed. She is asleep right now, it looked like. But Luke is proven wrong again when the eyes flew open, wide and panicked. Her mouth opens and she let out some sort of noise, that might have been a scream if she wasn’t intubated. Instead she starts to choke. She raises her right hand to try to rip the tube out. Luke is too stunned to do anything, except babble on and on to Twelve.
“Don’t--no--Twelve, don’t do that! It helps you breathe. Just relax. There, there.” Twelve looked anything but relaxed. She tries to raise her left hand this time to take the tube out but promptly lays it back down, making more frightened noise. Luke doesn’t know what to do. He is only a psychologist.
Levi rushes into Twelve’s room. What had happened? He answers the question himself; she had probably awoken and thought she was choking on the tube.
“Luke! Out! Now!” Levi orders, taking his arm and leading him out himself. His resident was working on Twelve, and her heartbeat was slowing down.
“No, Levi. Stop it.” Luke tries to pry Levi’s fingers off, to no avail. Levi looked at Luke, astounded. Luke never did stuff like that. He may complain later about it, but try to resist Levi in a situation like this? Luke looked at him defiantly.
“Luke George Shields,” Levi begins slowly, not wanting to look like a fool in front of the other hospital staff.
“Don’t pull the Dad card on me!” Luke says in a low tone, sounding dangerous. “You think you’re all that because you’re going to be a surgeon. You fix bodies. But you know what?” Luke pauses, daring Levi to answer. “I fix feelings. Minds. Emotions. There is never a definite answer in my field. So don’t tell me what to do, Levi Carter Shields!” Luke finishes by ripping his arm out of Levi’s grasp, and walking away. Levi rubs the back of his neck. His little brother wasn’t so little anymore. He looks into Twelve’s room, where she has calmed down and they are pushing more pain meds. Levi is no longer needed here. He walks away and into a room for the doctors to sleep, and plops down on a bed.
Thanks, Luke, for making me look like an idiot, He thinks with a sigh.
