Copyright 2103 JC Wallace
Week 6 and time for another installment of Owen's story. This week's prompt I chose was: Someone watches NASCAR. Enjoy!
Owen knelt in the grass, his forehead scraping
against the hard ground as he cradled his stomach. He couldn’t breathe. He’d
never experienced pain like this before. It was a piercing, ripping pain that
penetrated muscle and bone and organs.
“Owen! Oh, God. What’s wrong?” Turk knelt next to
Owen.Turk’s panic-laced voice rode on muffled waves beneath Owen’s heaving breaths. He wanted to answer Turk, but his lungs seized and his muscles clenched with unbearable agony. Thoughts raced, chasing each other through his mind. Was this what dying felt like? Why was it happening so fast? He’d spent months in bed, too weak to move, pissing in a bag, living off an IV drip, close to death, and it hadn’t felt anywhere near as painful as this. Now...No! It was too soon. He was supposed to have two weeks!
Turk was on his phone, screaming at someone...Wayne?
Shit, not Wayne. No, no.
Owen tried to force himself to move, anything to
signal Turk to hang up the phone. He managed to reach out his hand and grab
hold of Turk’s pants. Turk’s hand came down and grasped his wrist.
“Owen, man. What’s wrong? Wayne’s on his way. Shit,
I should call an ambulance.”
Owen managed to shake his head. He didn’t want to
die in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Although, dying here in front
of Turk wasn’t much better. Great. He’d forever be that guy in Turk’s stories who’d
died on their first date. Nice legacy.
“N-n-oo. I’m ‘kay. No ambul-ance,” Owen managed in a
shaky voice as another searing pain ripped through his gut. “Ah! Fuck!”
“I don’t know...I don’t know what to do. Do you have
meds or something?”
Owen didn’t know either. He’d never died before.
Turk’s hands were on his back rubbing in soothing
circles, but it couldn’t compete with the burning and searing pain. Why did
this illness constantly fuck up everything good?
A bead of sweat ran down the side of Owen’s face. As
the cool night breeze rustled the grass and rushed past him, a shiver raced
over his skin. His temperature was rising as the pain stabbed him over and
over.
Please,
stop.
“Owen!” Pounding footsteps raced toward them.
“Wayne. I don’t know what’s wrong,” Turk said. “He
was fine one minute and then he was on the ground. I don’t know what to do. I
should have called an ambulance. We should call an ambulance.” Turk rambled,
spitting out words left and right. Shit, Owen was scaring the big, tough guy.
“Hold on,” Wayne told Turk.
Wayne leaned down and brought his face close to Owen’s,
placing his hand on Owen’s back.
“What’s wrong, Owen? I need you to talk to me. You’re
freaking Turk out on your first date. Not a good way to get a second, you know?”
Wayne’s attempt at levity fell short coupled with the wild look in his eyes.
“Pain,” Owen gritted out through clenched teeth. From
the terror creeping across Wayne’s face, Owen knew it looked bad. “Wanna go
home.”
Wayne stilled, staring at Owen, then nodded slowly. A
shudder ran through Owen as another shot of pain coursed through him. He’d
always imagined dying in a morphine-induced haze. He’d give an arm for a
morphine drip right then.
“Turk, there’s a blanket in the truck. Get it.”
“He needs a fucking ambulance. Not a goddamned
blanket. If you won’t call one I will!”
Wayne disappeared from Owen’s sight. “No ambulance,”
he growled. “Owen doesn’t want one. He wants to go home and that’s where I’m
taking him. Now, get me that goddamned blanket!”
Wayne’s anger did little to hide the burgeoning
panic in his voice. Owen heard an exasperated sigh and saw Turk’s legs walk
away.
Wayne was back at eye level. “I’ll get you home.” He
assured Owen. “Everything’s going to be okay.” The hitch in Wayne’s voice wasn’t
very convincing.
When Owen got really sick, his one request of his
parents and doctors was that if he was going to die, he wanted it to be at
home. Everyone in the family knew his wishes. He’d been so close to death so
many times. Now, Wayne was going to make sure that happened for Owen.
“We have to get you to the truck,” Wayne said and reached
for Owen.
The pain
swelled and built on itself, climbing to new heights, pulsing and throbbing
until Owen was sure he would split in two. With a final hot spike, he cried out
and collapsed onto the ground. And then...nothing. No pain, no heat. Nothing
except Owen’s exaggerated pants.
“Owen?” Wayne asked quietly.
Owen looked up at his cousin and the perplexed
expression on his face. Owen released the oxygen that had been trapped in his
aching chest.
“It...stopped.” Owen licked at his dry lips. Damn,
he was tired. The damp coolness of the ground seeped through his clothes.
Wayne frowned then lowered his head. Owen noticed the
slight shake in his shoulders. He wanted
to say something to comfort Wayne, but Turk returned with the blanket in hand. That
spurred Wayne into action. He bent down and scooped Owen up into his arms.
“What...” Turk’s question died before it came out. “I’m sorry,” Owen whispered. “I’m feeling better. Sorry if I scared you.”
Turk frowned as Wayne started toward the truck. Owen felt like a total tool as Wayne carried him, but Owen’s shaky legs would never hold him.
“And sorry you had to drive here for me,” Owen said, resting his head on Wayne’s shoulder.
Wayne snorted. “You should be. I was watching NASCAR. I better not miss the checkered flag.”
As they reached the truck, Turk rushed past them and opened the passenger door. Wayne set Owen on the seat and buckled his seat belt. When Wayne stepped back, Turk stepped up and laid the blanket over Owen’s lap.
Turk furrowed his eyebrows and the worry painted all over his face. Despite his concern, Turk forced a smile. “You sure you’re okay?”
Owen nodded. “I’m sorry I ruined our date. I was
having a great time.”
“Me, too. Call me tomorrow?” Turk’s pleading tone
nearly broke Owen’s heart.
Owen nodded and Turk leaned down, placing a gentle
kiss on Owen’s lips. Sorrow filled Owen’s chest with a blooming coldness. This
had been his first and last date with Turk.
##
Check out the other flashers this week:
Way to go to break my heart. Can't we have two Wednesdays this week?
ReplyDeleteLOL! Hopefully there will be some better news for poor Owen next week. Or maybe not...
ReplyDelete