Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Scar Tissue ❯ Tunnel-Vision ( Chapter 15 )

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Part 15

I heard voices. Urgent voices, sounding as if they were far, far away. What was going on? Where was I? There were hands on me, moving me. More voices. Was someone crying? I felt like I was floating up… up… up…. Noise. The bustle of people. Someone was definitely saying my name.

Groggily, I opened my eyes, and was immediately assailed by bright light. I looked around, confused, my vision a little unfocused. I was on some kind of stretcher, in a bright, tiled room. People in scrubs were rushing around, their voices coming to me as if from through a long tunnel. Where was I? What was going on? Disoriented, I tried to sit up, but my muscles felt so weak, and I was pushed back down. A woman was standing over me.

"Duo? Duo Maxwell? Can you hear me? You're in the emergency room." Her voice sounded miles away.

Emergency room? What….? Suddenly, it all came rushing back to me. The aspirin…. One of the others must have found me, brought me to the hospital. NO! I was supposed to be dead! This couldn't be happening! I wanted to scream.

"… put a tube down to your stomach… pump out anything that hasn't been absorbed…," the woman, presumably a doctor judging from her white lab coat, was saying. It took a few moments for the words to sink in through the fog of my brain. Pump my stomach? They wanted to pump my stomach? No! I couldn't let them! I was supposed to die! I started to struggle, trying to push her away. I felt my flailing leg come into contact with something and was dimly aware of the clatter as a tray of instruments hit the floor. People moved in and grabbed onto me, holding me down. Adrenaline surged along my veins, causing my perception to regain some of its focus.

"Duo! Please stop struggling! If you don't cooperate, we'll have to restrain you and put the tube down through your nose rather than your mouth, and trust me, you don't want that!" she said. She had some kind of tube in her hand.

I didn't pay attention. All I knew was that I wanted to die and these people were trying to stop me. I continued to thrash wildly, trying to get up, trying to get away from them. More hands were holding me down. Next thing I knew, my arms and legs were being strapped to the stretcher. I could barely move.

The woman moved in with that tube. "Duo, please open your mouth. I need to slide this down your throat. Just swallow to ease it down. This will be much less unpleasant if you cooperate."

"NOOOOO!!!!!!" I screamed, thrashing my head from side to side, my limbs pulling at the straps in vain. She wasn't getting that thing in me if I could help it. I was supposed to be DEAD! They were ruining everything. Panic gripped my soul.

As I tuned my head to the left, I froze for a split second when I saw past the doctor and through a pair of swinging double doors out into the hallway. Heero, Hilde, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei were all standing out there, staring in. Hilde and Quatre were sobbing. Trowa had his arms wrapped around Quatre, his face grim. Wufei looked like he was in shock. Heero… I don't know how to describe the look on Heero's face, except to say that he looked like his jaw was clenched so tightly he was going to grind his teeth into powder.

Damn, damn, DAMN! It wasn't supposed to be like this! I was supposed to just go to sleep and never wake up. I renewed my struggle, though the restraints they had strapped onto me were so tight that all I could really move was my head. Words can not do justice to the anguish I was feeling right then. It was… agony. I became aware that tears were tracking down my face.

"Nonononononononononononono…!" I was wailing without even realizing it. Everything felt so surreal. The doctor frowned and motioned to someone. Suddenly hands were gripping either side of my skull, holding my head firmly in place. My eyes flared wide in panic. They couldn't stop me! I HAD to die!

"Duo, if you don't let me slide this down your throat right now I'm going to put it down through your nose," the doctor said forcefully. Her voice was sounding dim again, and my ears were ringing. I closed my eyes and clamped my mouth shut. My breaths were shallow and ragged. I couldn't let them stop me! How could they do this to me? Why couldn't they just let me die? They didn't understand, I couldn't live with this pain anymore!

The tube was being forced down my nose. My eyes flew open, the room seeming to spin around me. All the faces were a blur. I tried desperately to move my head, but to no avail. The person holding it was strong, and I was just too weak. They had me trapped and they weren't going to let me die in peace. Feeling utterly defeated, I started to sob helplessly.

It hurt. Everything else may have seemed fuzzy around the edges to my addled brain, but I swear I felt every millimeter as that tube made its way up my nose and down my throat to my stomach. It felt like being choked. I gagged. Dimly, I heard a voice telling me to swallow. As if I had any choice in the matter with that damned thing shoved down my throat, my body swallowing instinctively to try to ease its passage. It still felt as if my throat was being gouged out.

Finally, it was all the way in. The doctor put a stethoscope to my stomach and listened for a moment. She gave a satisfied nod and the tube was taped into place. She pulled a machine over, and hooked the opposite end of the tube to it. Then, it started. The suction.

The feeling was… hideous. Like someone was trying to turn my whole body inside out by reaching down my throat, grabbing onto my stomach, and pulling it, and everything else inside me, out. I imagined I could feel the walls of my stomach collapsing, the tissues rubbing against each other in a way they were never meant to do. It was a nauseating feeling almost like vomiting, but different, and much, much more intense.

All I could do was lay and stare at the ceiling, tears still running down my face, unable to move more than a few millimeters, as the life was sucked out of me. Or, more accurately, as the life was forced back into me. Dimly I was aware that I was making some kind of pained whimpering noise. I probably sounded like a distressed animal. I didn't care. Everything was ruined. I'd never felt so helpless in my entire life.

After what seemed like an eternity, the suction stopped. I closed my eyes and drifted. There was a gentle tapping on my cheek, so I opened my eyes again. It was the doctor. She was speaking. The adrenaline surge from my initial panic had faded, and she once again sounded like she was speaking through a long tunnel.

"… charcoal… faster absorption… tube…." I could only make out a few words. It didn't matter anyway. The doctor had the end of the tube in her hand again, and was pouring black liquid into it using a bottle with a nozzle narrow enough to fit in the tube's opening. It was another strange sensation, liquid going straight into my stomach, which had so recently just been forcibly emptied and was feeling decidedly… sore. Next thing I knew that was finished as well and the tube was being removed. It hurt just as much coming out as it did going in.

When the tube was all the way out, the hands released my head, but though I had ceased struggling, they left the restraints on my arms and legs. I turned my head and coughed until I thought I'd hack up a lung. I couldn't believe how much my throat hurt. I had to fight to keep from throwing up the charcoal or whatever it was they'd put in me. I was afraid that if I did they'd try to stick the tube back in for another round.

I caught another glimpse of my friends' stricken faces out in the hallway, and quickly turned back to looking at the ceiling. God, I couldn't believe they'd seen all of that. I felt a horrible, burning shame. Though I was too weak to sob anymore, there seemed to be no end to the tears running down my cheeks. I drew shallow, shuddering breaths. It was getting difficult to breathe.

The doctor got my attention again, speaking loudly like she knew I was having trouble hearing her. "You're going to be fine, Duo. There's not enough drug left in your system to cause permanent harm. However, you're going to be feeling the effects for a while yet as what was already absorbed works its way through your system. It's affecting you're breathing enough to cause you distress, so we're going to intubate you to make breathing easier. Are you going to cooperate?"

I closed my eyes and gave a slight nod. Though the last thing I wanted was another tube down my throat, there was no point in struggling now. It was already too late. I was going to live. I didn't open my eyes even when someone held my head in place again. I obediently opened my mouth and let the doctor put the new tube down my sore throat and into my trachea. When she was done, it was indeed much easier to breathe.

I drifted for a little while in a hazy fog. Nurses came and went, checking my vitals. Someone came and stitched the cuts on my chest. It felt like some time had passed when the doctor started speaking to me again, still using a loud voice so that I could hear her.

"We're going to move you to the ICU now. They're going to monitor you until all the aspirin has left your system. I'm going to go speak to your friends and let them know how you are." I didn't acknowledge her, just closed my eyes and let myself drift away into unconsciousness, though this time I was filled with the bitter certainty that I was going to wake up.

I awoke slowly, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the artificial daylight pouring through the window, and found myself in a small cubicle of some sorts. The head of the bed seemed to be raised at about a thirty-degree angle, giving me a good view of the area. I was hooked up to numerous monitoring devices, and I was still breathing through a tube.

I tried to raise my arm to rub my aching head, but discovered that though my legs were free, my arms were still in restraints. I also realized that the gauze on my arms had been removed, and I was only wearing some kind of hospital gown. A short sleeved hospital gown. I stared down at my arms, the scars seeming to stand out as bright as day. Anyone could see them. Panic coiled in my stomach.

I'll never forget the moment that it really hit me. The magnitude of what I'd done, of what had happened the previous night. The cold light of day was unforgiving. My blood seemed to turn to ice in my veins. To put it mildly, I was horrified, filled with a terrible, all-consuming shame. My thoughts raced at a mile a minute.

What had I been thinking? How could I have been so stupid? I should have planned it out better, made sure there was no chance of failure. How could I have done it in Quatre's house, with everyone there? Was I absolutely INSANE? Well, obviously. That was a moot point. How could I have behaved like that in the emergency room? How could I have been so stupid as to struggle with them, and make it worse, when just being there had meant it was already too late? Were they going to lock me up? Was that why I was still in restraints? How could I face the others? How could I ever look them in the face again? They knew. God, they'd seen me at the lowest and most pathetic point of my entire life. They'd watched while I had a tube forced down my nose to have my stomach pumped. They'd seen me scream and fight and struggle to prevent it. God, had they already seen me like this? Had they seen all the scars? What could they possibly be thinking of me? What happens now? What the HELL happens now???

The biggest question of all, though, lurking unvoiced in the back of my mind, was whether I should try again at the earliest opportunity.

Just then a nurse walked into the cubicle, interrupting my mental diatribe. I looked away from her, my face flushing with the humiliation of having my scars on display. It was also more than just a little embarrassing to be strapped to the hospital bed.

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell, I see you're finally awake. You just missed your friend," she said as she checked the monitors. My eyes snapped back to her. What did she mean? I tried to ask but found I was unable to make a sound around that damned tube.

"Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Maxwell, you can't speak while you're intubated," she said cheerily. She continued, seeming to have guessed what I'd been trying to ask. "Your female friend with the short black hair was just in here. Patients in ICU are only permitted one visitor at a time so she and the four boys with her have been taking turns sitting in here with you since you were brought up. She just left a few minutes ago to get one of the others, but now that you're awake the doctor needs to examine you first. He'll probably take that tube out, and if you behave, he might even take these off." She flicked her figure at one of the straps holding my arms. I scowled. She just smiled and left the room.

Great. So they had all been in here. They'd seen me lying here unconscious, a tube down my throat, and scars all over my arms. Did they know about… that? They must, I hadn't been wearing a shirt last night. They would have seen it. At least the hospital gown covered the bandage over the stitches, though now that I was thinking about it, it was starting to itch. I couldn't even scratch it, not with my arms tied down. I felt cold fear and dread stealing over my mind. What the hell was I going to do now?

The nurse came back, accompanied by a stern-looking doctor in his mid-fifties. He didn't even introduce himself, just started examining me and checking my vitals. He unhooked the breathing tube from the machine.

"I'm going to pull this out. Take a deep breath and then exhale as hard as you can," he ordered. I did as he instructed, grimacing as the tube slid up my parched throat. The nurse offered me a cup of water with a straw and I gratefully took several mouthfuls. The doctor narrowed his eyes at me.

"You don't seem to be agitated. Are you going to give me any trouble if I let you out of those restraints?" he demanded. Man, what was his problem? Like I wasn't fucking embarrassed enough as it was, here he was acting like I was a disobedient child.

"I promise I'll be a good little boy," I croaked out mockingly, surprising myself. Where had that come from? Looked like Mr. Smart-Alec was back, coming to the rescue in my time of shame. The oh-so-friendly doctor just grunted and then removed the straps. I stretched my arms out gratefully before hugging them tightly to my chest, trying to hide as many of the scars from view as possible.

"I give you fair warning, though, you pull any of that shit you did in the ER last night, I'll have you back in these so fast your head will spin, and we'll have more than enough cause to lock you up in the psych ward for a nice long stay." With that he turned on his heels and left. I glared at his retreating back, anger rising up to join the shame and embarrassment. Christ, who did he think he was? My heart also constricted in my chest when he mentioned the psych ward. Just how likely was that?

"Don't worry, Dr. Andrews' bark is worse than his bite. He has his head stuck up his ass. And the psych ward is actually so overcrowded right now you'd probably have to put on a tutu, kill someone, and say your dog told you to do it before they'd stick you in there," the nurse said, winking at me. I just gaped at her. "I'll go tell your friends one of them can come in to see you now. They were very relieved to hear you'd finally woken up." She left before I could say anything.

Panic threatened to overtake me and I hugged my arms closer to me. I didn't want to see anybody. Which one of them would it be? What would they say? How could I possibly look them in the face after what I'd done? I'd never felt as screwed up as I did right then. The damned pain threatened to split my chest wide open. My eyes watered but I fought the tears back furiously. Would I ever fucking be able to stop crying? I tried to take deep steady breaths. It simply would not do to fall apart right now. No matter what that strange nurse had said, I was still deathly afraid that they'd try to lock me up. There was no way I could let that happen. It felt like every muscle in my body was tensed and my stomach, still sore from last night, felt like a huge cold lump. I rubbed my temple in frustration, wishing I could just fucking think straight. But I hadn't been able to think straight in a very long time.

I suddenly realized that Heero was standing in the doorway to the cubicle. Our eyes locked, and I found myself unable to look away, even as the most intense wave of mortification I've ever felt washed over me. He was staring at me like he could see right through me. I couldn't read the expression on his face. It was very… peculiar. And intense. Very, very intense. It was downright unnerving.

Several emotions warred for dominance within me. A big part of me just wanted to curl up in a ball and weep in a most undignified fashion. I wanted to scream, cry, rant and rave, and just generally fall the fuck apart. I felt acute embarrassment, shame, and regret. But falling apart would only make things worse. Finally, though, I felt my old defenses slamming down, my brain's damned instinct for self-preservation taking control. If I put up a wall, a mask, it wouldn't hurt as much. It was stupid, pathetic, and hopelessly transparent, but I was trapped, desperate, and had absolutely nothing else I could think of to do. I smirked, and there was no humour in it.

"Hey, Heero. What's up?" I said casually.

TBC