Night Call

"Wear your heart on your sleeve, make things hard to believe
I'm not feeling this situation
Run away, try to find a safe place to hide
It's the best place to be when you're feeling like me."

Bullet For My Valentine - All These Things I Hate

I was floating, weightless and still. I felt numb yet I hurt all over. I wanted to move but couldn't, something was holding me down, something heavy. Why did I feel so heavy? Maybe I died, maybe this is what death feels like - weightless, heavy, painful, numbing; everything yet nothing all at once. But if I was dead then why did I feel wet? Why was my head so wet?

I wanted to feel my head and touch the oozing liquid that seemed to drip from my scalp like a stream. I wanted it to stop. It hurt and was making me cold. The dead don't get cold, do they? Everything felt so cold, life ice scorching my skin, but why would death hurt so much? I couldn't understand what was going on. The darkness I feel into refused to let me go, it held on tighter and tighter - but why? Why couldn't the darkness just let go. I wanted to fall... I needed to.

A sound reached my ears, soft, barely audible to the ear. What was it? I focused on it and listened harder but could barely make it out. It sounded like... a beeper? No, why would I be hearing a beeper?

Slowly, the sound began to grow but still sounded so far away. Why was there beeping?

I felt a pull at my arm and wanted to scream. A fire burned from my shoulder and down to my wrist and through my fingers, the nerves seeming to react violently. Why was it hurting so much? I wanted it to stop, but it wouldn't, it just went on. Like my arm, the pain in my head grew, intensifying with each passing moment. If I could I would have cried and begged for it to end.

Wasn't death supposed to be peaceful? Why did it have to hurt so much.

The soft beeping grew, becoming clearer and more distinct. It had a rhythm, a beat that it seemed to follow.

I moved. My body jerked painfully, my weight adding pressure to the pain as I felt another jolt. Why was I jolting now? I didn't want to move, something else was moving me. Maybe I was going to hell. I didn't know what I did to deserve to go to hell, but maybe it was the reason I was dead in the first place. Maybe I had done something to myself. No, there was no reason for me to want to take my own life, so what had I done?

I felt a pinch in my shoulder that burned and wanted to scream. Why was I being pinched? And then I felt them - hands. Hands were touching me all over, I could feel them pressing against my body, placing things over my face. Why was I being touched?

"Can you hear me..."

I jolted again. I was moving fast but going no where. Maybe I was waking up, but why was I asleep? I didn't go to bed at all, I was awake. How did I end up like this? Why was I being moved? Why was I being jolted and pinched? Didn't they know I was hurting? Why couldn't they just leave me alone.

"....of O positive, stat!"

I was O positive. Was I bleeding? Was that the liquid I felt pouring from my head - blood?

Suddenly, like a movie everything came to me at once. The sounds blared into my ears; so many noises at once. I heard talking, lots of rushed voices - they sounded desperate. They all demanded things, used words I had never heard before. I heard so much but couldn't understand what they were saying.

I wanted to open my eyes and take a look at who was talking, I wanted to tell them to quiet down and let me sleep, but they wouldn't, they just got louder. My eyes hurt so bad; they felt swollen. Even though I couldn't see I still knew where I was and where I was going. I figured out why they mentioned my blood type, why I felt them touching me and why I was moving so much. I was in an ambulance. I don't remember why, just that I had gotten hurt.

I wanted to know what had hurt me, what caused me to end up liked this. My mind raced, thinking over and over my last memories, trying to dig up whatever it could. And then I remembered it, the reddish-brown fur. It was a bear. No, it wasn't, it was larger - much larger. But what was that big and brown?

My brain began to slow down at the ambulance came to a rough stop, banging sounds filling my ears. I wondered why there was banging as I felt myself being pulled down gently. There was so much going on I couldn't keep up with what everyone was saying, I just knew that they were moving fast to get me to the hospital.

"...Dr. Cullen, now!" Dr. Cullen? Where was I? And why was that person saying Dr. Cullen? For a moment I wondered if someone was watching Twilight at the hospital.

I was lifted off what I suspected to be a gurney and placed and another. The warm hands I felt pressing against my head were suddenly replaced with cold ones. I wanted to flinch away and tell them to warm their hands before touching me, but I couldn't move.

They were so damn cold.

Everything around me began to dim, the sounds slowly fading, sounding farther and farther away. Was I actually dying this time? I didn't want to; I fought. I tried harder and harder to fight the darkness that came for me again, but I wouldn't let it. I needed to win. I couldn't let go, not now, not when I had to find out how I ended up like this.

The cold hands soothed over my forehead, pressing lightly into my temples. They felt good. I was startled. They seemed to know that I was frightened and fighting, but how? The others didn't know, they didn't stop when I was hurting or begging for the pain to go away.

"It's okay."

How did they know that? How did they know what it was okay, that I wasn't going to fall asleep and never wake up again.

"....stabilized, Dr."

I was stabilized. I felt my soul take a sigh of relief at those words. I wasn't going to die - not yet. With what energy I had left I focused on the hands touching my head, still softly pressing again those painful parts of my head. The gentle circular motions offered comfort; I greedily stole it.

"You're okay." Their voice was as soothing as their cold hands against my skin. My flesh chilled and not from their hands. It was the voice, it seemed to chime like a beautiful song that eased my soul into a relaxing state. "Go to sleep, you're okay." And I believed him. So against all my better judgement I listened to what he said and let go. I let the darkness take me - and this time it didn't hurt.



Slowly, I began to wake from the darkness, a steady beep filling my ears. It was the only sound I could hear, everything else was quiet. The pain in my arm and head had dulled to a minor ache. I twitched a finger on my left arm. It didn't hurt so I moved another then another, flexing my fingers until they ached - I wanted to know they weren't damaged. I tried with my right hand, and like the left, they moved perfectly and according to my will.

Next was my toes. I repeated the same thing and discovered that I wasn't paralyzed, just sore. I wanted to do the same thing to my arms and head but was afraid I'd injure myself and cause more pain, so I stopped there.

The sound of a sheet being pulled back startled me. Whoever it was walked around my bed and stood next to me. I wanted to know what was going on but found that I couldn't speak, my throat hurt too much. So I groaned. I did it as loud as I could trying to let them know that I was awake and ready to hear the news about my condition, about what happened to me.

"Well, hello." It was the same voice, he sounded pleasantly surprised. I felt something being pulled from the bed, a clipboard maybe. "How are you doing? Can you open your eyes for me?" I tried to shake my head but it hurt to much to even think, so I groaned out what was meant to be a 'no.' He seemed to have understood what I was saying. "Can you tell me your name?" I wanted to tell him my name, I really did. So with all my strength and positive thoughts I braced myself and slowly opened my mouth.

I felt like a mute. No matter how much I tried to sound out the words they just came out as a ugly croak. "Ev-Ev..." my throat burned so much from the strain. Why did it hurt so much to talk if I hurt my head and shoulder.

"It's okay, don't strain yourself." He placed a cold hand on my wrist. "Can you move your fingers?" Since I had done it before he came I was able to move every single finger on my hand, following his directions and moving them left and right. We moved onto my toes and we did the same thing. He was pleased.

"Very good. Now, I know you can't move your left arm but do you think you can try to lift up your right arm?" I braced myself and prepared for the pain as I lifted my right arm with ease, which surprised me greatly. "Excellent." I felt so proud of myself for being able to do everything he said. "You seem to be fairing quite well, so I'm going to let you rest now. If there is anything you need just press this button." He placed a small remote with a wire in my hand. "And I'll be here in a flash." There was a smile in his voice.

The corners of my lips quirked and he patted my hand and suddenly and comforting, icy hand was gone.



My eyes opened, wide and alert. The light shined dimly through a clouded window blinding me for a moment. I tried to sit up but felt a sharp pain in my left arm and gasped loudly. I looked down to find that it was in a cast from my wrist up to my elbow, the ache reaching up to my shoulder. I wondered, and then it hit me - the accident. The car, the ice, the screaming - Margaret!

I began to panic, looking around frantically for Margaret, my heart beating wildly in my chest - the beeps speed up as did my pulse.

Where was Margaret? Was she hurt in the crash?

The curtain was ripped open and three people walked in, two women in sickly green scrubs and a doctor in a white coat. The nurses quickly went to work, grabbing a syringe and a bottle of liquid as the other went to the heart monitor. The doctor, however, walked straight to me and pressed his hand against my right shoulder, gently pushing me back.

"Woah, there. You're safe, it's okay... calm down." I recognized that voice. It was the doctor that was talking to me earlier. I looked up at him and gasped. Topaz eyes smiled kindly down at me. My pulse picked up again as I took in his image. He was pale, his skin looked almost like porcelain, under his white coat he wore a blue buttoned shirt and a black tie, but what startled me the most was be blonde hair and name tag. In the center of the white clip in bold black letters read: Dr. Cullen

Tears burned my eyes as I shook my head not wanting to believe who I was looking at. Terror I had never experienced before coursed through my veins, spreading my fear. He caught onto my distress and glanced at the nurse with the syringe and nodded his head once. She returned the nod and approached me, but I paid her no mind as I felt a panic attack beginning to set in.

"No... no, no, no." What the hell was going on? Did I die after all? Did Margaret die in the accident too? No, she couldn't have. I didn't want to believe it. "No! No, no, no!"

"Shh, you need to relax." He tried to calm me down but it only seemed to make my anxiety and fear worse. I began to thrash, trying to fight out of his grip and get away from the nurse. I screamed and kicked, crying hysterically. When my leg kicked out and nearly hit the doctor in the chest and grabbed my ankle and leaned over my lower half, using his body weight to hold my down as the nurse stuck the syringe needle into a tube connected to the IV.

"Let me go! Let me go, please!" I sobbed. I needed to find Margaret. "Let me GO!" The other nurse held my right arm down, immobilizing me. This angered me to no end. Margaret was hurt and needed my help, but they wouldn't listen, they wouldn't let me find her. "STOP! Margaret!"

The nurses were confused at my screaming, like they didn't know who I was talking about. But how couldn't they? They must've seen Margaret in the car with me or at least heard about the accident.

"Margaret!" I screamed, my throat ripping from being unused. I fought, but I felt myself getting lighter. The nurse have given me a sedative. They were putting me back to sleep. I didn't want to sleep, not now. My strength was beginning to give, the urge to get up slowly leaving my body. My cries quieted to hiccups and sniffles; my breathing shaky.

I felt the doctor get off my legs. Before my mind shut down completely I looked at the doctor with lazy eyes, staring into his golden ones. His eyes weren't the same. The kindness had been replaced with worry and concern.

Just as I closed my eyes to fall back into the darkness I heard the nurses voice echoing in my ears, a disturbing question leaving her lips.

"Who's Margaret?"