I’m thirsty

Meg watched the blood flowing from the bag into Lyn’s arm, hypnotized by the drops falling one by one into the drip chamber. It was the second transfusion since her accident. She prayed there was no internal bleeding causing the need for additional blood but she feared the worst.

After their brief conversation three days ago, Lyn coded—her heart stopped beating for seventeen minutes. For seventeen minutes she believed her friend had died.

Reaching over to stroke Lyn’s face she subconsciously checked her temperature. Feeling cool to the touch she pulled the extra blanket up gently lifting Lyn’s elbow to tuck the thin covering carefully underneath her body.

In a flash, too quick for her to register, Lyn grabbed her arm.

Gasping in pain, Meg jerked back reflexively, trying to twist her hand away, unable to escape the agonizing grip.

Lyn pulled Meg toward her. She lost her balance and fell onto the bed, staring helplessly at Lyn’s fierce glare.

“I’m thirsty,” she hissed before releasing Meg’s hand and falling back onto her pillow.

Confused Meg pushed off of the bed and backed into the wall, inhaling several deep breaths while rubbing her throbbing arm.

“What the hell was that?” She wondered while examining the burning red ring where Lyn had grabbed her. Outlining the imprint of Lyn’s fingers, she grimaced as she manipulated the assaulted bones checking for any breaks. Satisfied she wouldn’t need to visit the emergency room, she approached cautiously watching Lyn lay unmoving with her eyes wide open. Reaching slowly behind the bed, her hand shook as she pressed the call button. Leaning on the back of the chair for balance, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax while waiting for the nurse to respond.

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