Read Online Dying For A Chance by Amy H. Allworden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amy H. Allworden
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wished me get well, her spectacles sparking angry. Father Phillip hadn't seemed to understand he was meant to stop so he'd picked up where he'd left off and was walking around the room, bible clutched and preaching to the furniture. That was when I looked around and noticed Nic. He was sitting by the window again but I could barely make him out. It was as though he had become another ray of light. He was speaking to me but I couldn't hear his voice. I snapped my head to the Father, he was still going on and on. I didn't know what to do...so I fainted.
I didn't actually faint. It was a trick I had developed in my many foster homes during my more dramatic teen years. It was a good way to get out of a class I didn't like and I'd become pretty good at it.
When my head hit the bedside table all chaos broke loose, Dr. Gannushkin came running back to the room, the nurse burst into action and Father Phillip broke his chanting to come to my side. I dared to peek an eye out and look for Nic.
He was solid as ever, holding his head in his hands and looking exhausted but much more solid than a few seconds ago. He looked up at me and tipped his head.
“Alright, I guess that's one for you,” and his mischievous smile returned.
My relief at seeing him stable again was short lived. I noticed Father Phillip scanned the room like he had just heard an unpleasant sound. He looked directly at the corner where Nic had spoken from. I knew that he wasn’t going to give up so easily.
~~~
As it turned out, we didn’t have to worry about either of them right away. Word got around from the nurses that their visit had caused some ‘unnecessary distress’ and they were forbidden from coming to see me until I was completely recovered. My little act had bought us some time, but I had no idea how long it would last.
Nic figured that the best thing to do would be to get me recovered as fast as possible so they didn’t get another chance. He promised to help me day and night with my therapy. I was eager to spend the time with him.
I know what you’re thinking. A 19 year old ghost...seriously? It’s the worst kind of cliche’ and if one of my friends had told me she was obsessed with a ghost I would have slapped her for being silly. I was in a world filled with warm and caring men who didn’t turn into smoke when they had a bad day. I began to think that I was suffering from some sort of Florence Nightingale type of effect. That’s when we were moved into the therapy wing of the hospital.
It was like living in the YMCA. There were hooks, ropes and pulleys on the wall. Boxes, treadmills and dumbbells lined the hallways. They even had a mock car and grocery store set up on the main floor for people who had to completely retrain. I was more than a little nervous about the whole thing. My ability to stick to something wasn’t exactly impressive and my tolerance for pain was literally pathetic. I brooded on our first day in the therapy wing.
“What’s got you in a bunch?” Nic was playing with the ropes on the wall. They had even put some basic machines in each of the patient rooms. I felt like a lab rat, as if every time I pulled one of those chains a scientist somewhere would make a check mark ‘good, very good....now give her the cheese.’
“I don’t think I can do this.” The bed I had was exactly the same as the last, same white sheets, same bleachy smell. I balled it up into my hands and tossed it to the end of the bed. I looked down at my pajama’ed legs. At least this new ward let me wear normal clothes. I’d had a nurse pick up something for me...she found a pink and green daisy printed flannel set. I was less than thrilled but it was all she could find. I grabbed hold of my left leg and pulled it
I didn't actually faint. It was a trick I had developed in my many foster homes during my more dramatic teen years. It was a good way to get out of a class I didn't like and I'd become pretty good at it.
When my head hit the bedside table all chaos broke loose, Dr. Gannushkin came running back to the room, the nurse burst into action and Father Phillip broke his chanting to come to my side. I dared to peek an eye out and look for Nic.
He was solid as ever, holding his head in his hands and looking exhausted but much more solid than a few seconds ago. He looked up at me and tipped his head.
“Alright, I guess that's one for you,” and his mischievous smile returned.
My relief at seeing him stable again was short lived. I noticed Father Phillip scanned the room like he had just heard an unpleasant sound. He looked directly at the corner where Nic had spoken from. I knew that he wasn’t going to give up so easily.
~~~
As it turned out, we didn’t have to worry about either of them right away. Word got around from the nurses that their visit had caused some ‘unnecessary distress’ and they were forbidden from coming to see me until I was completely recovered. My little act had bought us some time, but I had no idea how long it would last.
Nic figured that the best thing to do would be to get me recovered as fast as possible so they didn’t get another chance. He promised to help me day and night with my therapy. I was eager to spend the time with him.
I know what you’re thinking. A 19 year old ghost...seriously? It’s the worst kind of cliche’ and if one of my friends had told me she was obsessed with a ghost I would have slapped her for being silly. I was in a world filled with warm and caring men who didn’t turn into smoke when they had a bad day. I began to think that I was suffering from some sort of Florence Nightingale type of effect. That’s when we were moved into the therapy wing of the hospital.
It was like living in the YMCA. There were hooks, ropes and pulleys on the wall. Boxes, treadmills and dumbbells lined the hallways. They even had a mock car and grocery store set up on the main floor for people who had to completely retrain. I was more than a little nervous about the whole thing. My ability to stick to something wasn’t exactly impressive and my tolerance for pain was literally pathetic. I brooded on our first day in the therapy wing.
“What’s got you in a bunch?” Nic was playing with the ropes on the wall. They had even put some basic machines in each of the patient rooms. I felt like a lab rat, as if every time I pulled one of those chains a scientist somewhere would make a check mark ‘good, very good....now give her the cheese.’
“I don’t think I can do this.” The bed I had was exactly the same as the last, same white sheets, same bleachy smell. I balled it up into my hands and tossed it to the end of the bed. I looked down at my pajama’ed legs. At least this new ward let me wear normal clothes. I’d had a nurse pick up something for me...she found a pink and green daisy printed flannel set. I was less than thrilled but it was all she could find. I grabbed hold of my left leg and pulled it
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