Both Faith and I had to go to the hospital. Me for the stab wound near my spine, Faith for the neck lesions. In any case, I made it my mandate not to leave the lobby without Faith at my side, seeing as I would probably leave before she did. Easier said than done. It seemed that the world was against our being together.
For awhile, the doctors wouldn't let us be in the same room. Quite honestly, I didn't see the logic behind this decision; "she's more traumatized than you are," wasn't exactly an acceptable answer. And I said so. One of the smart-mouthed interns (God bless him) who was helping with my stab wound said that I had a point and that it'd be better if Faith and I were together, at least until our parents came for us and we were released. There were some grumblings from the senior doctors, but much to my delight, I was soon recovering in a hospital bed right next to a sleeping Faith.
As my wound was less serious, I was a sort of "temporary guardian" for Faith, telling the doctors what I knew of her medical history, giving them her parent's phone numbers, telling them if I noticed even a slight change in her condition, for better or for worse.
However, even then I knew naught of Faith's true prognosis. There were whisperings of "mute" and more devastating terms that I dare not speak, and whenever I asked, all I got was that infamous indirect answer, "Her condition is stable; however, we need to conduct a few more tests to be sure of what she's facing."
About five hours after arriving in the hospital, I was greeted by my parents, who were suddenly drowning me with assurances of safety and comfort.
"C'mon sweetie, let's go home," said my mother, her face awash with relief.
"I don't wanna go," I replied. "I'll stay here with Faith." Both my parents blinked in unison, startled. They regained their composure quickly, though. I had a feeling they had rehearsed what to do in a situation like this at least half a dozen times.
"Nonsense," replied my father shortly. "You're coming home."
"I want to stay with Faith. What if she wakes up and she's all alone in this place?"
"The doctors will take good care of her..."
"I can't just go on assumptions. Besides...Faith is my friend; she defended me. Can't I at least return the favor by staying to make sure that she'll be okay?"
"...Alright. But any time you want to come home, just call us, alright?"
"Sure, Mom. I promise."
I was awake well into the night, quietly watching over Faith. Earlier that day I had overheard a whispered conversation between two nurses; something about Faith having trouble talking because of the neck wound. "The knife sliced through her vocal chords; she might even become a mute." I prayed to God that wasn't the truth; a Faith not able to talk was hard to imagine and painful to deal with.
Closing my eyes, I laid back down in my bed, gazing at the ceiling. I'd have to go back to school eventually; I couldn't spend my entire life at Faith's bedside, although a part of me wanted nothing else but to watch over her. I guess that's part of being a guy; we'll do anything for our girlfriends. Well, at least all the decent guys out there...
A nurse walked in, checked the IV cather, wrote something down, gave me a weak smile, and walked out. I felt a prickling of anger; anger at the doctors, their false smiles, their indirect clues and false leads, and the endless note taking, like they were trying to be blasted good students or something...
I got up again, sat on the edge of Faith's bed, touched her forehead. I watched her eyes move under their lids, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was dreaming about me, because I dreamed about her, smiling and still able to talk...
Author's Note: Please forgive me if my representation of hospital protocol is incorrect. I only know what I've experienced, and I'm afraid it isn't much. The next chapter will be a little more exciting, although it may take awhile to write. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chappie. Shalom!