C O D E B L U E
Thomas
I don't think I've ever moved so fast in my life. As soon as the call ended, I jumped into the nearest clothes I could find, racing around to get my shit together. Sam's Mom had called and asked for me to be there with Sam until she arrives because she doesn't live in town.
Isabelle asks a series of panicked questions, none that I give a good or full answer to because I just don't know. My throat is dry and my stomach feels like it's been punched over and over again. She follows me down to the car and we get in, not letting a wasted second pass.
I almost run three red lights, driving above the speed limit the majority of the way there. I'm surprised Isabelle hasn't told me off but she seems just as desperate to get there as I am. I park in the first empty space I see and we make our way inside the hospital. Taking her clammy hand, she squeezes onto me out of comfort. Getting past the busy entrance, we reach reception and I can barely speak so Isabelle talks to them. They tell us that a doctor will be with us shortly so we stand off to the side, looking around and at each other, fear in our eyes.
"Hi. Are you here for Sam Jacobs?" A tall female doctor with dark skin and a friendly smile approaches us after a few minutes, a clipboard to her chest.
"Yes. How is he? Can we see him?" I question, stepping towards her.
"Sure, if you'd like to follow me." She leads us down the winding, bustling hallways. "When he was brought in he was seizing and unconscious. We thought it would be best to put into an induced coma for now. If you don't know what that is, it means he's been put in a deep state of unconsciousness which protects his brain from potential swelling. It's so we can closely watch and monitor his vitals."
She stops in front of a door, guarding it as she turns to us. It's killing me, I'm desperate to get in there and see him.
"It looks a lot worse than it is so prepare yourselves." She gives us a final nod before twisting the handle. The pair of us step into the small room.
Isabelle lets go of my hand to clasp her mouth, muffling an audible gasp. Sam is hooked up to various, beeping machines. His whole face is swollen, rings of dark purple around his shut eyes. His forehead has been wrapped up. His neck is stained with dried blood. Cuts are left all over his cheeks, some of them deeper gashes. His lips are cracked, dry and split. Any of his skin that's on show is colored with bruises.
"Oh my god." She races over to his side, wanting to take his hand but she hovers over it, so shocked she can't even touch him. I'm frozen at the end of the bed, a lump in my throat, not knowing what on earth to say. "Oh my god."
Finally tearing my eyes off of Sam, I see Isabelle who's crying now, her face stinging red. I swallow hard, preparing myself to comfort her. I step closer, wrapping her into a soft, warm hug.
"This was Nate." She sobs into my clothes. I stroke the back of her head, trying to calm her down.
"We don't know that." I argue back, my voice low.
"It's obvious Thomas." She angles her head back, staring up at me. Tears stream down her flushing cheeks. "He saw us together. Even if he wasn't the one who physically did it, he'll have been behind it."
"That doesn't matter right now, okay?" I reassure. She unwinds herself from me and pulls up a chair beside the bed.
"Sam. I'm so sorry." She talks to him in a whisper. "This is all my fault." I place my hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing. It's in no way her fault but she's so empathetic that she'll believe that it is.
Seeing Sam like this, it doesn't even feel real. I hold back my own tears, my throat feeling like I've swallowed dozens of knives.
"I'm going to go and get us something to eat while we wait. Are you going to be alright here?" I check and she nods without turning to acknowledge me. I leave the room, the sight of Sam absolutely unbearable.
I rush down the halls, escaping into the nearest restroom. Thankfully it's empty. I stretch both my arms out onto the sink and hang my head down, letting everything out. My body lurches with the release, my legs weak, my cheeks now wet.
I don't want her to see me like this, I want to stay strong for the both of us. Even though we've been told he's better than he looks, he still looks fucking awful. I don't want to make it seem worse for Isabelle by being upset in front of her.
Suddenly, the door clicks open as someone else comes in. I quickly wipe my eyes and sniff, standing up straight. There's no way I have enough time to make it look like I was definitely not crying. In the mirror, I see the reflection of an older man, with fluffy white hair and glasses.
Turning to him, he gives me a kind smile and I adjust myself to start to pass him but I'm stopped by his gentle tone of voice.
"Seems like we both had the same idea." Behind his glasses, the light manages to capture the twinkle of his tears that are brimming in his eyes. I let out a light chuckle. "My wife." He says fondly.
"I'm sorry." My face crumples up for him.
"A loved one?" He asks, stabling himself on his walking stick after standing beside me.
"A friend. My best friend." I rest myself against the sink. "He's with my girl at the minute. He's been put into a coma."
"That's awful to hear." The man lets out a long sigh, basking in the moments silence. "Susanna." He finally whispers. "Fell from her stairlift. Hip fracture but she's too fragile to make it through the operation." He explains.
"God. I'm so sorry." I pat the beige material of his coat on his shoulder, comfortingly.
"Ninety seven, she is. And still as beautiful as she was the day I met her." I smile at his words as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket to dab underneath his glasses. "Four kids, twelves beautiful grandchildren. We've travelled the world, done everything we wanted to do together. She's ready to go... and now... we have to keep her comfortable." He chokes and I reel him into a tight hug, patting his back. He embraces me back, squeezing on tightly.
"Don't hide in here for too long, son." That unexpected word hits me, stinging another set of tears to my eyes.
"Go and be with your friend." I step back, giving him a nod.
"Thank you Sir. All the best." We reciprocate each other's last smiles before I leave. Wiping my face dry, I return back to Isabelle who is still silently sat, holding Sam's weak and bruised hand.
**
Sam
"Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your night!" I beam to the guy behind the counter who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Taking the pile of snacks into my arms, I struggle to let myself out of the store. After an embarrassingly long amount of time, I meet the night outside, heading over to my car. Getting in, I throw all of the supplies into the back seats before finding a movie soundtrack to blast through the speakers. I pull out of the parking lot and head home.
"Look out cause here I come!" I sing over the top of the music, slapping on my steering wheel in time with the beat. "And I'm marching on to the beat I drum!" I try my best to hit the high notes on all of the ad libs. Trying to reach them, I have to sometimes squint my eyes which I decide I shouldn't be doing if I'm driving.
My laughter, to my horrific singing, catches in my throat as the car suddenly gets shunted to the side. Almost in slow motion, the tires screech across the road as I lose control. It smashes to a stop when the right side meets a metal pole. Glass sprays all over my lap, cutting through my pants. A yell leaves my mouth as my head collides with the side.
For a moment, I hang limp, caught by my seatbelt. The music has stopped playing and the car is fizzing and hissing. My sore hand manages to unclip my seatbelt and I let myself out of my crumpled car. With my eye sight being fuzzy, I can't quite tell who's around or what it is I'm looking at.
Stumbling away from my car, a force on the back of my head shoves me forward, ramming it into the already cracked window. My body clatters to the ground, every cell in my body is numb but aching with the feeling of being repeatedly punched in the head and kicked in the stomach.
There's blood in my mouth, on my hands, in my eyes. I want to shout out and scream but every time I try, I get winded by another sudden kick or hit. It feels like this has been happening for hours when I hear an oncoming car start beeping and headlights shine. There's a scuffing of feet and whoever those people were have scrambled to run off.
My ears are ringing, my head is spinning and weighted. I fully slump into the puddle of my own blood on the floor until my grasps of all consciousness and reality slip out of my hands.
**
Isabelle
It's been a few hours and we're still in the same, cold room as we were before. We've taken the two seats against the wall to be out of the way as nurses and doctors swing by to have a look at him. They've briefly spoken to us about potential outcomes, the worst being brain damage.
Thomas bumps into me and gestures to the coffee cup in my hand so I pass it to him. He takes a long sip before offering it back to me. I shake my head with a sigh.
"I feel like I can't leave now." My voice is hoarse with all the crying I've done. "I just... feel fucking terrible." It takes everything in me to not start crying again.
"I know what you mean but you've got to understand that this isn't on your shoulders, okay?" I give him a kind, grateful smile even though I don't believe him.
I rest my head onto him and his hand slides on the inside of my knee. I close my eyes, leaning my head back into the wall. We stay in each other's silence for a few minutes when the door sweeps open and an older, unfamiliar women busts in, flustered.
She has long, curly blonde hair that frames her blushed, worried face. A necklace of shells hangs around her neck. Sam's Mom.
"Hey." Thomas instantly jumps up, giving her a hug.
"Hi. How's he been?" She smiles politely but then rushes over to Sam's smile.
"He looks rough but they say that he's doing well." Thomas explains. She sighs and looks over to me.
"Hi honey." She opens her arms out to me and I step into her embrace.
"Hi. I'm Isabelle." I introduce myself.
"Yes. I've heard a lot about you. You sound like you've been such a great friend to Sam." God. That only makes me feel ten times more guilty about what's happened. Sam's Mom strokes Sam's hair with the back of her hand. "If you guys have things to do and places to be then you can head off."
"We might do, now that you're here." Thomas nods.
"Thank you for being here with him. I appreciate it and I'm sure he does." She says, dragging up a chair to sit next to his bed.
"I'm just going to go to the restroom and then we can go?" I check and Thomas gives me a quick nod. I duck out into the nearest toilets, still feeling like I could throw up at any moment. I sit down, rubbing my hands over my face, not being able to fathom what's just happened.
On my way back, I spot the doctor from earlier stood with a short cop in the corridor. I can't help myself but I have to go over.
"Hi, I'm sorry. Are you here for my friend? Sam Jacobs? Do you know what happened?"
"We know he was attacked, we're pretty sure there was at least two of them. We're looking into it more but that's all I can say for now." He gives me a brief smile underneath his bushy moustache.
"Okay." A waft of relief runs through me. It puts me at ease knowing they're investigating.
"I will say, he's very lucky. Even in the state that he's in." I nod to him and then turn to the doctor.
"Do you have any idea of how long he'll be in the coma for?"
"Induced comas rarely go on for longer than two weeks at most. He started last night so I reckon it'll be a day or two and we'll go from there. I don't-." She goes to continue when someone bustles in, grabbing hold of her.
"Jackie. Code blue for Susanna Reyes." A nurse says, pulling her away.
"Excuse me. I have to go." She smiles and leaves me with just the officer.
"I hope your friend makes a quick recovery." He kindly whispers and I offer him the best smile I can muster up.
I get back to the room where Thomas has my bag and coat ready. He puts my coat around my shoulders and stands behind me, fondly rubbing the tops of my arms as I take one last look at Sam's still, pale body lying in bed.
"Come on. Let's go home."
**
-Frankie Kate