Chapter Eight: Limp Wrist

As Tedford and Krystal walked down the street past the fastfood joints and sundry small businesses that lined the roadway, they laughed and flirted as they got to know each other. They were only about half a mile away from their apartment when a bike courier came flying around a corner at full speed and plowed right into them. Krystal flew back and landed against a shop wall, her head cracking the glass entrance door. She was out, instantly - a trickle of blood making it's way unseen down the back of her neck and back. T-Bone and the courier were also thrown across the sidewalk, but both landed seemingly unharmed, if not awkwardly - perhaps only their pride being bruised. The courier and Tedford got in each others' faces and angry words flew rapidly, until a split second later Tedford realized that Krystal hadn't stood back up. "Somebody call an ambulance!" a woman shouted, panicked. Inside the shop, the cashier was already on the phone, and a small group of people were closing in to get a better look at the motionless girl. The front tire of the prone bicycle spun slowly, but no one seemed to notice.

Paramedics arrived on the scene after what seemed like an eternity, but soon thereafter Tedford was watching Krystal lifted onto a gurney and placed in the back of the flashing vehicle. He climbed in the back also, accompanied by an EMT and a policeman asking questions as the sirens of the conveyance lurched and whisked them off toward the hospital.

The two were separated upon arrival, as a nurse treated T-Bone's head and face bruises, and assessed that his wrist had been sprained. She fitted him with a wrist brace while another frocked worker helped him fill out paperwork. He was told that Krystal was unconcious and had a severe concussion that warranted them keeping her overnight for observation. Since we wasn't technically family, they apoligised, he'd have to come back tomorrow during visiting hours to check up on her. Dismayed and a little dazed, he lingered, then left the ER, walking aimlessly back in the general direction of his neighborhood. The evening was still young, the sun not even having set yet, so he felt no sense of urgency. As he neared a supermarket on the opposite side of the street, he remembered that he had absolutely nothing at the apartment to eat, so in he meandered to procure some quick victuals.

In his lingering state of mild shock and disbelief at Krystal's misfortune, he had already forgotten about his own minor bruises and wrist, until he instinctively reached for a jug of milk with his left hand, then caught sight of the brace as he simultaneously felt a twinge of pain. He switched hands and grabbed the milk with his right hand, and let the foggy cooler section door swing shut.

Krystal was in stable condition, but slipped in and out of conciousness a few times, and couldn't remember what had happened or where she was. All she could surmise is that her head was pounding with pain now, and all she wanted to do was slip back into that dreamy wonderland of sleep. And she did, but is was not a restful sleep. When she next came to, her deductive reasoning told her that she must be in a hospital room, but who the devil were all those people whispering and talking behind the curtain? From what eavesdropping she remembered upon waking hours later, the person in the other half of the room must've had some sort of traumatic accident, and his family must've stayed the night with him. But Krystal was all alone.