|
Deleted
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2013 21:43:50 GMT
♪ five past nine pm and the hospital parking lot was practically vacant, the few cars still loitering about those of the hapless night shift workers. nate cut through the silent lot, pace brisk and thoughts scattered. he had a term paper due tomorrow. it was cooler than usual tonight. the patient in room 4 had finally succumbed today to his congenital heart disorder. he was out of milk. banal thoughts. nothing of interest came to mind, nothing worth dwelling on. he tugged off the volunteer id card clipped to his scrub top, pocketed it carelessly. his next steps took him under the harsh glow of a streetlamp—what might or might not have been a dark shadow flitted past in the outskirts of his vision. a shiver swept down his spine. the weather was too mild to be the cause. the next best explanation was premonition. out of the obscurity, a hand gripped his arm. LIONEL RHODES |
|
|
|
Post by LIONEL RHODES on Jan 3, 2014 16:39:59 GMT
Lionel was usually so careful. He was rarely in a situation where he was remotely close to being caught by anyone. In recent weeks, that seemed to be ground to dust. Everything that could possibly go wrong had in every theft he attempted to do. Now he managed to get himself wounded. Luckily, it wasn’t anything fatal from what he could discern but it did need to be treated. He needed to find someone he could both pay to keep quiet and treat him without any records.
He found someone who might prove promising leaving the hospital in their scrubs. Without worrying about the guy’s reaction, he reached out and grabbed his arm. “Don’t scream. I need your help.” He said in a voice strained with agony. “I’ll pay any amount you name, just please treat me outside the hospital and without any records.” He moved his freehand from the bloodied area on his torso so the light of the streetlamp could illuminate his injury. |
|
|
Deleted
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2014 22:58:36 GMT
nate didn’t scream. his heart jolted in his chest and his muscles tensed as if from an electric shock; then the disturbance passed as abruptly as it came. he regarded his assailant evenly, mild interest peaking as the man removed his hand from his chest. the blood of the wound, fresh, glimmered wetly in the dim light. he made no motion to break the grip on his arm, gave the injury a cursory examination before his gaze returned to meet the other’s. nate's expression was unreadable. “i can’t help you. i’m not a professional, you know.” the corners of his lips turned up humorlessly. “or inclined to aid strangers with mysterious wounds.” it had a story—the unsavory kinds always had comparatively better ones than the norm—but nate had no desire to hear it. the situation was atypical, yet he was still bored. LIONEL RHODES |
|
