Fallen Angel
Chapter 6
"Take me to the hospital real fast-"
"What the fuck?" Dre yelled. "I thought you were goin' back to Detroit.
Leavin' this mess.""I gotta at least say goodbye… It wouldn't fuckin' feel right if I just up and left…"
"You didn't say bye at the hospital?"
"Nah…"
"Fuck, you're just givin' yourself time to change your mind. You're a damn pussy…"
"Fuck you! You're not the one feelin' like a fuckin' prick…"
"Oh, whatever. You're a prick and a pussy. How 'bout that?"
Marshall just grumbled and muttered something completely unintelligible.
"I don't know what the hell you just said, but fuck you, too," Dre replied harshly.
"So, Miss J…" he started out.He couldn't look at her face-it was still too bandaged up to see much, but he couldn't meet her eyes, even if they were closed. When he raised his eyes to hers, just for an instant, he felt as if she *could* see him; as if she would know the message in eyes-the one that he didn't want to send.
"I still got questions that I want answers for, but I can't hear them… 'cause I just… can't," he trailed off as he drank in the sight of her motionless body-so still, just a body wrapped in white sheets and gauze. He felt as if he was at her funeral, leaning over her sleeping form, talking in a whisper, and the soft sounds of murmuring from the medical machines creating the procession melody.
"Like, I wanna know who you are… Do you have a family? Shit, maybe you got a kid that's-"
Marshall closed his eyes; just the thought that perhaps her child was *with* whoever put her in this condition-he fought back the catch in his throat, the knot building in his stomach. "Maybe a husband? I don't know nothin' about you, and… and it's gotta stay that way. I can't… I… I just wanted to say goodbye, 'cause I gotta leave…" he whispered brokenly, and he leaned down to kiss her bruised cheek.
He blinked furiously, his eyes burning with unshed tears, "It's just… I wanna take care of you, but I can't."
"I can't!" he repeated with emphasis. "I'd probably fuck it up anyway…"
Marshall leapt up from the chair, clutching his chest-the machines were going crazy; everything was humming and beeping insanely, bells were ringing and sirens were exploding.
"Shit. Fuck. Shit, shit, shit!" he yelled as he ran out of the room.
"Where the fuck's the doctor?!""Code blue! Code blue!" someone screamed as they came racing down the hallway.
"Code blue?" he stammered.
"Move out of the way! We gotta get her heart steady again-"
"Fuck!" he cursed again and ran straight back into her room, immediately to her side.
"Mr. Mathers, please step aside! Her heartbeat has dropped significantly-she may die any moment!" the nurse yelled as she pulled him away.
"Fuck!" he growled. "This is all my fuckin' fault…"
"One, two, three," the nurse counted.
"Nothing?" the doctor asked, only to see nothing change on the monitor.
"Again!" he ordered.
"One, two, three!"
"It's dropping!"
"Increase it!"
"Still nothing! We're losing her!" the nurse shouted as the heart monitor sent a steady sound. "We lost her, we lost her," the nurse sighed sadly.
"No!" Marshall yelled.
"Sir-" a nurse replied with concern.
"Fuck you, let me see her!"
A hurt look flashed across her face, but she moved aside, along with the other nurses.
"Look, c'mon, J," he whispered. "You gotta come back-I mean, they didn't just do all that surgery for nothin', did they?"
The doctors watched him carefully-watched the monitor closely.
"C'mon, baby, please?" he said softly as a tear ran down his cheek. "I know you can fight this!" he murmured, clutching her hand in his and desperately squeezing it.
"What's that?" he asked, his eyes widening as he heard a steady beep coming from one of the machines next to her.
"Holy-" the doctor started. "Nurses, we got a pulse!"
As the nurses pushed him aside, they began to fuss over their
patient-checking every vital, going over routine, and injecting her with all sorts of harsh looking needles.Marshall cringed every time he saw the syringe fill and release itself into her veins. He plopped himself down into a chair that was out of the way, but still in the room so that he could see her. He put his face in his palms, rubbing them into his eyes so he would stop crying-he felt pathetic and overly emotional, and it was driving him insane knowing that he was so worked up over a woman he didn't even know-as he listened to the doctors and nurses whisper and murmur about everything.
The only words that Marshall remembered were that it was a miracle. And that he was more responsible now than ever before; he felt disgusted with himself-the idea of leaving her so despicable, turning so utterly unkind and selfish.
"Mr. Mathers?"
"Yes?" Marshall replied quickly, taking his face out of his hands.
"May I speak to you for a moment-outside?"
"Yes, of course," he agreed and followed the doctor into the hallway.
"What happened in there-that was a miracle. That wasn't medical brilliance, that was a miracle. That was you, Mr. Mathers. For whatever reason…the patient is fighting for *you*, not herself. I need to know what you were doing before her pulse dropped?"
"I was-" he bit his lip, feeling like a heel, "I was tellin' her goodbye."
"I suspected that… Mr. Mathers, you, essentially, hold her life in your
hands.""Fuck!" he replied.
"Um…exactly," the doctor stuttered. "She is reaching out to you, sir, and I hope you might reconsider your decision to leave and reach back," he advised and walked back into the hospital room to continue with the examination.
"Dre, get your ass inside now. Some freaky shit is goin' down…" Marshall commanded as he talked into the cellular phone."Where you at?" he asked.
"I see you, man," Marshall replied and hung up.
"So, what's up? Uh, Marshall-um-have you been crying?"
"Shut the fuck up. I don't even need to hear your shit right now. She
almost fuckin' died, Dre.""Say what?"
"I swear to fuckin' god, I don't know what the hell is going on, but I was tellin' her that I was gonna leave… and boom! She's dyin'."
"But she's fine now?"
"She did die. They were 'bout to declare her legally dead, Dre. I-I told
her not to leave… To fight and shit… And her heart started beating again!""A fuckin' modern day miracle," Dre grumbled. "Now the shit's really hit the fan."
Author: zines@aol.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.