My Bondi Guardian Angel

Lack of trust

Jesse's POV

Olivia lay on the gurney, her face pale, most likely due to the shock she was in, as the ambulance crew hurriedly loaded her into the ambulance. The paramedic turned toward us and asked, "Do any of you guys know this girl?"

We exchanged worried glances and nodded in unison, our concern evident. The paramedic let out a sympathetic chuckle and asked, "Who's going with her?"

As the boys turned toward me, I stepped forward, my heart still pounding in my chest from the adrenaline. I entered the emergency vehicle and took Olivia's trembling hand in mine. I knew how it felt to be strapped onto that backboard, my own back broken in a surfing accident years ago. I just wanted her to feel a sense of comfort, as the boys had done for me.

Inside the ambulance, the antiseptic scent was overpowering, and the cold metal handrail under my fingers sent a shiver down my spine. Olivia's laboured breathing filled the air as I squeezed her hand gently, silently reassuring her that she wasn't alone in this terrifying moment.

As Olivia's eyes fluttered closed and she slipped into unconsciousness, a knot of worry tightened in my chest. I couldn't help but think that perhaps it was better this way, that she would suffer less. The paramedic noticed my concern and assured me, "There's no need to worry."

With his words still echoing in my mind, the ambulance pulled up to the hospital's emergency department. Olivia was rushed inside, and I was directed to a small relatives room, where anxiety gnawed at my insides. Desperation clawed at me, and I pleaded with the hospital staff to let me stay with her. "I'm a lifeguard," I stammered, "she's probably scared and alone in that room."

Their sympathetic gazes met mine, but they assured me, "She's in the best hands possible right now. We need room to work around her."

Despite their reassurances, I remained distraught. A nurse sat with me, offering words of comfort and understanding. She kept saying, "She's okay, she's in good hands," but my worry persisted.

Then, just when I needed it most, the boys burst into the room. Their familiar faces and warm embraces washed over me like a soothing balm. In that moment, I couldn't help but think to myself, "These guys are amazing." 

As we stood in the hospital room, the boys did their best to distract me from my worry, chatting about anything and everything. Their voices filled the sterile air, and their attempts to lighten the mood were evident. It wasn't working to completely take my mind off her, but their efforts did bring a small measure of comfort.

Nearly an hour later, a nurse informed us that we could see Olivia. We entered her room cautiously, our voices reduced to whispers as we beheld her. Even in her vulnerable state, she radiated a certain beauty that transcended the tubes and machines surrounding her. Someone had washed a bit of blood off her face, the most serious grazes had been covered with a few white bandages.

As she stirred and her eyes slowly opened, a profound sense of relief washed over us. I locked eyes with her, the tension in my shoulders momentarily easing. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted, and the tension in the room began to dissolve. Whippet hurried out to find a doctor, leaving me with Maxi and Gonzo by Olivia's bedside.

The doctor entered the room, a young bloke about my age. His disinterested demeanor spoke of someone who'd rather be anywhere else. It was clear that his late-night shift was well underway. We instinctively moved back, giving him the space he needed to work on Olivia.

He removed her oxygen mask, muttering something about her being able to breathe on her own. His cursory check of the heart monitor left us anxious and uncertain. "I'll be back in an hour," he said, his voice lacking any warmth or reassurance. "Please let her rest some more. If everything is okay by then, I'll let you guys take her home." With that, he left, his departure leaving us with a lingering sense of unease.

For a brief moment, the idea of Olivia's discharge brought a glimmer of relief. However, when I glanced at the boys, I saw the same confusion and concern mirrored in their expressions.

"She's only been here for four hours," I remarked, my voice tinged with puzzled disbelief. "Shouldn't she stay longer, especially after the accident she just had?"

Gonzo nodded vigorously, his concern palpable. "Exactly, mate. I don't even know if he checked her head for a concussion! This just doesn't feel right."

An hour and some later, the doctor returned to Olivia's room. She had been sleeping for most of the time while we discussed our concerns in hushed tones. We all stood up as he entered, our eyes fixed on him as he briefly checked the various medical apparatus.

"She can go, I've signed her discharge papers," he informed us casually. He was about to make his exit when I couldn't hold back my worry any longer.

"What about her head? Does she show any signs of a concussion?" I questioned with a furrowed brow, my concern evident.

He let out a dismissive chuckle, "A mild one, at most. She's coherent and alert." He added, "Hey, she only had a low-speed car accident. Relax, mate, she'll be fine." With a casual laugh, he turned to leave the room, but I blocked his path, my eyebrows furrowing deeper, my expression unimpressed.

"Have you even read her file? She was ejected from her vehicle," I retorted with a snarl.

His demeanour shifted slightly as he sighed, "Listen, mate, it's the middle of the night, and the radiologists have already gone home. I won't have someone on call come in just to confirm my diagnosis. You can argue with me when you get your medical degree." With that, he left the room.

I turned to the boys, my frustration evident. "I have a serious lack of trust in him... Don't you guys feel the same?" I muttered through clenched teeth.

The room was filled with their hesitant nods and murmurs of agreement. "Well... Yeah," one of them said. "Me too," another chimed in. "I think so," added the third. The unease lingered in the air as we contemplated Olivia's well-being and the doctor's seemingly hasty judgment.

We made our way to her nurse, desperate to voice our concerns and request a head scan for Olivia. We explained our fears, emphasizing the possibility that she might have hit her head on the unforgiving concrete during the accident. However, all we received in response was an apologetic smile.

"The best I can do is tell you to come back if anything changes," She compromised. "You always have the right to a second medical opinion, but there isn't much I can do right now, I can't go against the doctor's order. I'm very sorry," she concluded before being summoned away by a call from another room.

I returned to Olivia's bedside, my heart heavy with worry. I said my goodbyes to Maxi and Gonzo, all of us powerless to change the situation. Whippet agreed to escort us to Olivia's flat.