Resistance To Assistance

Breaking Out Before The Dawn

I had been in the hospital for a week, a week full of PTSD episodes and aggression, which were quickly met by sedation and painkillers. I could not have been more ready to leave.

Everything about being in the hospital sent me ten steps backwards just because of the trauma I had faced in them. I had already known that my head was going to be in a bad place despite the fact that my tactical training had allowed me to pass all my psych tests thus far with flying colours. Every second I spent in the hospital just equated to more and more shit piled up in my head.

It was late, Sunday night, and I was eyeing Kevin where he sat at my side. He was already fast asleep, his upper body rested on my bed, and his head turned to face me where it rested on his arms. He was a quiet sleeper, soft breaths and gentle groans when he moved were the only noises he had made in about two hours.

It irritated me that the unit had been looking after me, somewhat like a child, the whole time I'd been incapacitated. They worked in rotation so that there was always someone by me and they made sure that if Kim was coming there would be someone with her because seeing her on her own was now something of a trigger for me. The room was filled with random crap that they had brought with them and left behind, obviously not anticipating my scheme to escape.

My plan was foolproof. Kevin always slept the night through, so he wouldn't be a problem. It was two in the morning at that point, and in three hours, it would be shift change for the nurses. That was when I would make my escape.

There were enough spare clothes around the room that I could be fully dressed and unrecognisable on my way out the door. It would take me a while to dress with my injuries, but I was determined to make it work. I had already switched the pulse oximeter from my finger to Kev's, and I was raring to go.

The time drained away like sand through an hourglass, and soon enough, I was shuffling around the room like an old man on my bad leg to find every bit of clothing I would need. I salvaged a pair of socks and a red flannel from Adam's collection, a pair of black jeans from Kevin's, and a huge thick coat from Voight's. Will's stupid house shoes were the only footwear I could find, so I slipped them on and followed that up with a grey beanie that I'd found on Alvin's seat. With a glance back at Kevin, who still looked perfectly peaceful, I quietly exited the room. I paused at the door, my back pressed against it, to catch my breath.

My ribs were still fucked along with my right shoulder, my wrists, the broken fingers and wrist of my right hand and whatever tingly shit was going on with my lower right leg. Most of my stitches were healing up nicely, the ones on my wrists taking a longer time than the others because they had been infected when I'd originally been taken to the ER. It hurt to move, not as much as it had but still enough to be noticeable. I took short, shallow breaths to offset the pain in my ribs and forced myself to walk at a normal, healthy person's pace along the hallway. I came out at the nurses station and walked right past with my hands shoved deep in the coat pockets to hide the splinted fingers and easily made it out the door. I'd done a lot of UC work with the intelligence unit and an important thing that I learned early on was that if you act and look like you're supposed to be somewhere people usually don't ask any questions.

It was cold outside and I didn't have a vehicle so the first thing I did was search the pockets of everything that I was wearing to see if there was enough cash on my person for a bus fare to my apartment. I didn't find much, but I estimated what I found to be enough to get me two stops from my place, and I figured that was close enough.

The bus ride was warm but incredibly bumpy, and my body was wracked with pain the entire time, I was so grateful when I stepped off it.

The relief was short-lived when I spotted the men waiting for me at the bus stop.