T(H)RUST - Ghost x Reader

Chapter 46

The sound of a ballpoint pen scribbling across a piece of paper attached to a clipboard wakes you up. Your eyes strain as they're attacked by the sterile lights overhead. Where are you?

"Good morning." A short bald man in a long white coat, his voice is nasal and dry, stands next to the bed you're laying in. Your head lulls to the side, and then to the other, scanning the bare room. Is this a hospital?

Opening your mouth to speak, you feel your chapped lips struggle to pull apart. You gently lick your lips before smacking them a few times to try and remedy the desert-like texture you feel across the skin.

"Wha—th habened?" You ask, and sense a taught pulling across your left cheek as you speak. Your words don't come out quite like you want them to, but hopefully the man understands you.

"Careful, don't open your mouth too much." Trying to keep your mouth barely open, a mere sliver between your lips, you go to speak once more.

"Whai?" You try to say, but it sounds more like a strained animal noise. The doctor flips over a paper on his clipboard, scribbling something down.

"You've been shot in the cheek. If you speak too much you'll rip your stitches out."

Instinctively you reach up to the cheek you felt straining, but the man catches your wrist before you manage to make contact with your face.

"Don't touch it." His voice is stern and uninviting, and although you do want to ask him more questions about where you are and why you're here, you decide to let it go. When he isn't looking, you throw a dirty glance his way before turning to look at the door.

"I'll let your contacts know you're awake." The doctor heads out the door and closes it rather forcefully after himself. Rude.

You're left lying in the hospital bed, all by yourself. Slowly you start gently shifting each of your arms and legs, testing to see if they work at all or if they cause you any pain. Your hospital gown rustles as you move around. Nothing seems to be broken, bruised or otherwise hurt, so you assume your only injury is the gunshot wound the doctor told you about. Carefully, you wiggle your tongue around in your mouth, feeling across your gums. There doesn't seem to be any missing teeth in your mouth, all of them lined up right where they should be. Your saliva has a recognizable metallic taste to it, just like when you've been to the dentist and they poke your gums with those torture-like tools. Additionally, a bitter and salty taste lingers in your mouth. As you move your tongue across the roof of your mouth and then to your left cheek, a different texture appears. Closely examining the spot with your tongue, you feel what can only be described as a large bite having been taken out of your cheek, and then sewn shut with fine sterile thread.

Even though the best thing to do with new wounds is to leave them be, you cannot keep yourself from feeling across the surface with your tongue over and over. The new texture in your mouth is rough and it feels unusual. There's little pain to it luckily, there's little pain across all of your body. Waking up in the hospital is never a good sign, but it seems like you've gotten out of whatever incident caused this, with minor injuries.

You count every move the minute handle on the clock opposite your bed makes. It ticks forward 23 times before the silence is interrupted by loud footsteps outside the door. Right as you turn your head to look, the tan colored door swings up, unveiling four men in military gear. They display friendly and slightly worries smiles, and you recognize their faces. As they walk up to and surround your bed, you shift backward and move your pillow, using it as a backrest to sit up. The man in the front of the group, wearing a hat and his face covered in a large brown beard, places his hand on the rail of your hospital bed.