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Cursed ecstasy cursed se.., p.5
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       Cursed Ecstasy (Cursed Series), p.5

           t. h. snyder
 
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  My eyes focus in on him, and for a brief moment, if I didn’t know he was a cop, I had the urge to slam him into the wall. He has no clue who that person is in the other room. Etty is the one who’s caused us all to be here. The last thing I want to do is show her any type of support.

  “I’d rather know about the others that were involved tonight. We already know that Etty is alive and breathing. For God’s sake, Linc is my brother and Jo may as well be my sister. Can’t we get some type of confirmation that they’re okay?”

  Another officer moves and positions himself to face me and Officer Donovan.

  “Look, son, I know this is trying and the waiting is a bit unnerving. All we know for now is that they’re here and both in surgery. As soon as they make it out, someone will be down to talk to us. We all want answers just as badly as you do.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I mumble under my breath.

  Tightness fills my chest at the thought of both Linc and Jo in surgery. I step back and lean against the wall, placing my head in my hands. Behind closed lids, I can envision both of them lying on tables with doctors and nurses surrounding them. The unknown of their conditions is driving me insane.

  Pushing myself away from the wall, I mumble, “I need a smoke,” before walking away.

  Hurrying myself through the doors and out into the parking lot, I stare out at the dark sky.

  My thoughts are a complete mess and I don’t know what to do. I get that there’s really nothing I can do to help them right now, but I have to think of something…anything. I’ve never been a man to pray, but right now I need the big man up there to hear me loud and clear.

  Taking a seat on the concrete wall, I firmly place my hands together and close my eyes.

  Hey, big guy in the sky…I know that you’re probably wondering who the hell I am and why I’m asking for your help. I’m not a religious guy. Shit, I don’t even know what the hell I believe in anymore.

  It’s not like we talk often or that I’ve asked you for anything since I was nine. I’ve kind of pushed you away since Mama died, but right now I need you to listen and hear what I’m about to ask of you.

  I may not be a good man or make the right choices in life, but there are two people that are my world and could really use your help.

  Something pretty bad went down tonight and Linc and Jo are both hurting. In fact, right now they’re in surgery, fighting for their lives.

  They are all I have left; you can’t take them from me, too. I need both of them in my life to keep me straight. Without them, I’m not sure what I’d do. It’s driving me nuts, and it scares the shit out of me.

  I can’t promise that I’ll be a better man or stop my ways, but I can tell you that I’ll never let anyone hurt them ever again.

  Can you do that for me? Can you save them and bring them back to me?

  A puff of cigarette smoke hits me in the face and my senses push my eyes to fly open.

  One of my best friends stands before me, one hand in his pocket the other hanging onto a lit butt. I know he cares; he’s hurting and he, too, wants answers.

  “You okay, bro?” Steve asks, taking in another drag of his cigarette.

  Shaking my head, I don’t know what to say. I’m sure as hell not okay and won’t be until I see the whites of their eyes.

  “I’ll be a hell of a lot better once we know what’s going on with Linc and Jo. Surgery, man, they’re in fucking surgery.”

  I pounce down off the wall and begin to pace a short path back and forth along the sidewalk.

  As I turn to walk back toward Steve, my eyes focus on an officer walking our way.

  “You boys might want to come inside. One of the surgeons just came down and is ready to talk with us.”

  Without a second thought, I push myself past the two men standing in my way, taking long strides toward the entrance.

  The level of anxiety fueling me is heightened. My chest is on fire, my limbs are numb, and my throat feels like it’s closing up on me.

  Walking into the waiting area, five officers surround a tall, dark-haired man in a green pair of scrubs. His hands are resting in his pockets and a look of empathy is sprawled across his tired and grim looking face.

  I’ve wanted answers ever since I saw the text messages and now that the time is here, I’m not so sure I want to hear what he has to say.

  With my feet heavy as cinder blocks, Steve comes up next to me as we approach the group of uniformed men.

  The surgeon extends his hand in my direction, “I’m Doctor Blake, the surgeon that operated on your friend Lincoln Minzotto.”

  I reach out and grasp onto his hand for a firm handshake.

  “I’m Dault and this is Steve,” I reply, pulling my hand from his and gesturing next to me.

  “Nice to meet you guys, I’m certain it would be better under different circumstances. Why don’t we move over here?” he says, gesturing behind me. “I think it would be best if you sit down so I can talk to you about Lincoln’s condition.”

  Turning to the row of chairs behind us, we all take a seat, patiently waiting for the words to come out of the surgeon’s mouth. Dr. Blake stands before us, clasping his hands together at first and then crossing his arms along his chest.

  “Lincoln was brought into the hospital last evening with a gunshot wound to the right arm. By the time he’d made it into the ER, he had lost a decent amount of blood because of where the bullet entered his arm. Rest assured that the paramedics did everything they could to slow the blood loss and care for his injury.”

  He stops for a second, his eyes scanning the row of men sitting in front of him who are patiently waiting.

  “Once I examined the severity of his wound, my team immediately took him up for surgery. The bullet hit the subclavian artery, which feeds the main artery of the arm, causing a large amount of blood loss. My team was able to stop the bleeding, and soon after, it was determined that his brachial plexus was injured.”

  Standing from my seat, I take a step closer to the doctor.

  “Look, dude, you’re talking like a fucking surgeon here. I need you to break things down nice and simple for us.”

  Nodding his head with understanding, Dr. Blake continues.

  “The bullet entered Lincoln’s upper arm a few inches below the shoulder. It hit a vital artery and damaged a bundle of nerves in his right arm.”

  He pauses for a moment, staring me in the eyes.

  “What does that mean, doc?” I ask.

  “We can’t say for certain right now. The good thing is that the bleeding has stopped. Once Mr. Minzotto is out of recovery and coherent, we’ll run some more tests to determine the mobility of his right arm. I have a good feeling that he’ll regain use of the arm, bearing that he’s willing to go to therapy and work through rehabilitation.”

  My mouth has now dropped to the floor and my eyes are set on Steve’s.

  The fuck did he just say?

  “What the hell are you telling us here, doc? Linc’s lost the use of his arm? He’ll never be able to use his right arm again? Do you realize that arm is his life? He’s a tattoo artist…a god behind that ink gun. Motherfucking son of a bitch, that whore screwed the only think Linc ever had to be proud of.”

  Unable to process anything else, I slam my body down onto the seat next to Steve. Leaning forward in his chair, he turns to face me, a look of empathy flashing through his eyes.

  “Calm down, Dault, we don’t know how bad it is. For all we know, Linc’s gonna wake up and be ready to head back to the shop. This is his life, man; we have to think positive and believe that it’s all going to work out.”

  I bleakly stare back at him with hate and fury blaring through my eyes.

  “Shut up with the Pollyanna bullshit, Steve. Etty has destroyed all of our lives and now Linc may never be able to use his arm. Don’t you get it? She’s ruined everything.”

  I hate her, but I need her at the same time. I’m confused, yet my anger for what’s happened tonight is l
eading my emotions.

  “If I may,” Dr. Blake interjects “the prognosis for Mr. Minzotto is good. He’s a healthy young man, and as long as he’s willing to put in the work, there’s no reason he won’t be able to have full use of his arm in time.”

  “In time? What does that even mean?” I stutter.

  “It’s all up to him. I’ve seen patients come out of something like this with full use and range of motion in months, some years.”

  Shaking my head, I’m in shock. I can’t believe this is happening. Cursed Magic is our lives; if he can’t get back to the shop and ink some skin, he’ll go nuts….I’ll go nuts.

  Chapter 8

  Silence fills the room as I sit back and wait…for what, I don’t know.

  There’s so much to think about and my head is pounding. In fact, my scalp and hair are beginning to hurt. At least if I don’t move, the nausea and dizziness stay at bay. I’ve been up now for more hours than I’d like to realize. I’m exhausted, and each time my eyes close I will myself to open them before I fall asleep. I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself awake before I pass out.

  Christian has himself sitting back against the chair with his feet propped up on my bed. Glad he’s feeling relaxed. This poor guy just met me a few hours ago and now he’s stuck sitting here like he’s a babysitter.

  Doesn’t he have a life to get back to? Something better than watching over me so that I don’t fall asleep? No one can have that dull of a life that being here is more exciting…can they?

  My eyes peer over to the moving curtain as a tall man with salt and pepper hair walks through, heading straight for my bed.

  “Hello, Miss Powers, I’m Dr. Schwehm,” he says, extending his arm to me. “I’ve just reviewed the results of your tests and I’d like to take a moment to discuss them with you.”

  Taking his hand in mine, I slowly nod my head and wait for him to respond.

  “Your fall and hit to your head has resulted in a severe concussion. We’d like to keep you here for at least a day to monitor your symptoms and ensure that nothing more serious has occurred. We’ve set a room aside for you upstairs and a nurse and orderly will move you within the hour.”

  “Okay,” I respond in a nervous tone.

  “Let’s talk through the symptoms you’ve experienced since the fall.”

  Ugh, where the hell do I even begin?

  “Well, umm, there’s a tender spot on the back of my head. I’ve tried to refrain from putting too much pressure on it.”

  “Has the nurse been by with any pain medication yet?” he asks as he moves to examine the back of my head.

  “No.”

  “Please sit up so I can take a look.”

  Moving my hair to the side, he slides his fingers around the sore area.

  “I’ll be sure to give them a prescription as soon as I leave you to rest. What else are you experiencing?”

  “As long as I lie down I feel alright, but as soon as I move my body, I can feel the ache pull down my neck and into my shoulders and upper back. The nausea and dizziness come and go, but other than that I feel like I fell down a set of stairs.”

  At first he looks at me with a sincere stare, which then changes to a smirk.

  “Well, you’ve had a difficult night from what I can tell. You’ll need to keep yourself as calm and relaxed as possible without falling asleep. I’ll let you be for now and make sure you have something to make your pain more tolerable.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  He rests his hand on mine and smiles, “You’re in good hands here, Miss Powers. Let’s hope we can get you out of here and back to your life within a few days. Another doctor will meet you upstairs and a few more tests will be done over the next several hours. Alert your nurse if your symptoms worsen. A concussion can be a serious injury, and you can expect to notice a variety of symptoms from memory difficulties, poor concentration, and irritability to anxiety and depression.”

  A subtle laugh escapes my lips, “So you’re telling me everything I’ve had for years will just be heightened because of my head injury?”

  “I’m glad to see you have a good sense of humor, but seriously, you have to keep our staff aware of how you’re feeling. I wish you the best, Miss Powers, have a good night.”

  With that, he leaves the room in silence.

  Christian gets up from his chair and turns to face me.

  “Are you always this way?”

  I scrunch my brow and look at him with confusion.

  “What way?”

  “You’ve had one hell of a night, Gretchen, yet you’re still acting as though nothing has happened. Your responses are short, carefree, as if you don’t have a worry in the world.”

  I lick my dry lips and bite down on a loose piece of skin.

  “You really don’t know me very well, Christian. I’m a high stress head case. Believe me, it’s best that you stay as far away from me and my shit as possible. You’ve been nothing but nice since I’ve met you a few hours ago, but really, you can go home now. There’s no reason for you to stay here. I’m sure you have a life to get back to or someone that wants you back home.”

  He looks at me with an almost pained expression. I had no intentions of hurting his feelings, but apparently I have.

  “As much as I don’t know you, Gretchen, you don’t know me, either. I have a lot of shit on my plate, too, and this place is the only escape I have. Believe me when I say this is the only room I want to be in right now. Didn’t you ever learn not to judge a book by its cover?”

  I shake my head and roll my eyes.

  “Well, you should. It’s unnerving to sit here and want to help when all you seem to do is push away those that want to be near you.”

  I sit up in my bed, wincing as the pain shoots down my neck.

  “You have some nerve; you don’t know what I’ve been through tonight, let alone in my lifetime. Don’t you judge me, either.”

  He starts to walk away and regret hits me hard. Turning on his heels, he looks to me as if he’s about to say something, pauses for a minute, and then walks over to my side.

  “I don’t know if you’re just clueless or intentionally push people away, Gretchen. All I know is that there are two guys somewhere in this place that care about you. They may not show it right now because they’re more focused on your other friends, but maybe one day you’ll learn to follow your heart instead of your brain mashed up in that thick skull of yours.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. No man has spoken to me with so much hatred since Rick. Even though Christian may not realize how badly his words hurt, they do.

  Without another word, he leaves my side and the room.

  I’m left alone to think about what he just said. I’m not a hateful person and there’s one man that helped me to see that. I need him right now and I have no clue where he is, if he’s hurt, or hell, if he’s even alive.

  Linc helped me see that I’m a good person with a lot of baggage. He talked me through some of the toughest parts of my life and now when I know we both need each other the most we are miles apart but in the same hospital.

  What the fuck have I done?

  I close my eyes and squeeze my lids as tight as I can. Chanting a silent prayer in my head, I can only hope that my friend is okay and will be brought back to me soon enough.

  The more I pray, the more my body and mind pull me into the sleep I’ve been fighting all night.

  Bend down, bitch, and suck me off till I fill your mouth with my cum. I paid good money to have you in here tonight and I plan on getting my money’s worth.

  A clenched fist pulls at my hair and drags me to the ground.

  On my knees, I position myself between the man’s legs.

  Tonight is the first night Rick has brought me to the club. He told me I’d be working my ass off, but this is nothing like I’d imagined.

  My head feels fuzzy and my mind is a swirling mess. The pills he gave me were a different size and color than normal. I t
hought nothing of it; I mean, he’s been helping me fight my depression for days.

  Now I’m beginning to sense that what he’s given me is something totally different.

  In front of me is a man that I’ve never met. His pants are pulled down around his ankles and his dick is resting in his hands. He pushes my head down toward him while he calls my name.

  “Etty, girl, open your mouth and suck me off before I pry your lips open.”

  Gritting my teeth together, I see no other choice. This I my life and I have to do as I’m told. If I don’t, I know it will upset this man, which in turn will upset Rick. If I don’t want a beating tonight, I have to do this.

  Closing my eyes, I lean forward and take him in my hands.

  At first, I slowly stroke his dick. I can feel his length grow before me. Moving in closer, I open my lips and allow him to slide inside my mouth. With a quick thrust, he pushes himself further so that he’s hitting the back of my throat.

  My eyes fly open and my gag reflex goes into effect. A cough escapes my throat and spit trickles down my chin.

  “Take it all in, girl, now! “He shouts at me.

  I do as I’m told and suck him off as if it’s the only way to save my life.

  A cool hand touches my arm and my tired eyes open.

  “Miss Powers, you can’t fall asleep on us. I’m your nurse and we’ll be taking you up to your room now,” she says, gesturing behind her to a small girl wearing blue scrubs.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doze off like that. I’m just so tired.”

  A small smile forms on her face.

  “I know you are and soon enough we’ll have you up in your room where you can get more comfortable. For now, I’d like to start you on some pain meds through your IV. Let me get this all set up and we’ll take you upstairs.”

  Nodding my head, I watch as the nurse pulls out an IV needle, tap, and two bags of clear liquid.

  All I want to do right now is sleep and when I wake up this will all be a horrid nightmare.

  Chapter 9

  Walking down a bleak, white hallway, Steve and I are led to Linc’s room. After hearing about his condition, I felt as though a part of me had died. If Linc loses the use of his right arm he’ll never be able to ink another soul again. He’ll be devastated; everything he’s worked so hard for all these years will have been a waste.

 
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