Corey Shane Fitzpatrick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
irishblood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2013-11-30 10:33 pm
irishblood) wrote in muserevival2013-11-30 10:33 pm
Quote of the Day 005.
“Speak when angry and you will make the biggest speech you ever regret.”
- Dr Lawrence J. Peter
It felt like there was an invisible barrier about halfway down the corridor in the Intensive Care Unit. Every time Corey got as far as about eight steps past the nurses’ station, it was like he hit the barrier and had to turn back. There wasn’t. It was just that as soon as he got remotely close enough to his uncle’s room that he could almost see into it, he lost all courage to keep going further and through the door.
He walked in and up the corridor, and then baulked, froze, turned around and went back out again. This happened, no exaggeration, thirteen and a half times within about twenty minutes. Everyone else had been in to visit his uncle, so why couldn’t he do it? He tried. He was trying so damn hard to force himself to go in there, but just when he got close, he crumbled and couldn’t go that final distance. The poor staff milling around their station probably thought he was an escaped patient from the mental health unit by this point. He didn’t make eye contact with any of them in case they were giving him strange looks. His Converse squeaking on the linoleum had to be pissing them off too, but that was the least of his worries.
He was trying again. Attempt #14. Both hands planted on the large swinging doors into the main part of the unit and pushed them open. He walked, looking down at his feet, counting every step up to that fucking invisible barrier. This time, he didn’t even make it quite that far before he was turning around again and stalking back out the swinging doors. There was a little holding area there that led to the security doors. Anyone coming into the unit had to push a buzzer outside that to be admitted into the ward. He didn’t go back out those doors because he didn’t want to be a pain in arse ringing it all the time. In that little vestibule, he paced back and forward from one wall to another, frustration burning through him that he didn’t have the balls to face this. He stopped and slammed one of his palms against the wall and then with a soft groan, rested his head down against his arm.
The last things he said to his uncle had been a selfish diatribe of misdirected anger. He wasn’t unhappy at all that his uncle wanted to get married to a girl he adored. It wasn’t even the fact he proposed with Corey’s grandma’s engagement ring. When it all boiled down, it that burning loss and pain that his grandma really wouldn’t be coming back and she would never be wearing that ring now. That was what hurt the most, but rather than talking it out with his uncle, he had bottled it all up and got up in his face. Angry and unfair words were the last thing his uncle knew from him before he copped three bullets in the gut that nearly killed him.
He was close to crying, but once again, he sucked in a sharp gulp of air and swallowed them back. He pushed away from the wall and once again, tackled those swinging doors. There was a little bit more of a determined gait in his steps now. He was going to go into that damn room, and he was going to hold his uncles hand, and sit with him, because his uncle deserved it. He wasn’t going to be chicken shit. He wasn’t going to harbour this fear of looking at his uncle and that being the last image he had in his head of him if he died. Because he wasn’t going to die. Corey wasn’t going let him. He let his grandparents die, he wasn’t going to let his uncle be taken away too. He was going into that room, and he was going to see it with his own eyes because no matter now guilty he was over his anger and how much he regretted being an asshole, his uncle was worse off than he ever had been. He had a battle to fight and he had to know the people he loved were there to help him through it. He was going to do it. Fuck that invisible barrier. He was going to walk through it and into that ICU room where his uncle was lying unconscious. He was. Just a few more steps, no looking up, no looking back. Just keep going this time. A few feet more, into that room.
Only not.
As soon as he reached that invisible barrier again, he spun on his heel in an 180 turn and this time he ran right out of the unit, through the swinging doors, through the security entrance and kept going into the nearest bathroom to throw up in the first sink he reached. He wasn’t going past that invisible barrier today.
Maybe tomorrow...
Corey Fitzpatrick ♦ Original Character
- Dr Lawrence J. Peter
It felt like there was an invisible barrier about halfway down the corridor in the Intensive Care Unit. Every time Corey got as far as about eight steps past the nurses’ station, it was like he hit the barrier and had to turn back. There wasn’t. It was just that as soon as he got remotely close enough to his uncle’s room that he could almost see into it, he lost all courage to keep going further and through the door.
He walked in and up the corridor, and then baulked, froze, turned around and went back out again. This happened, no exaggeration, thirteen and a half times within about twenty minutes. Everyone else had been in to visit his uncle, so why couldn’t he do it? He tried. He was trying so damn hard to force himself to go in there, but just when he got close, he crumbled and couldn’t go that final distance. The poor staff milling around their station probably thought he was an escaped patient from the mental health unit by this point. He didn’t make eye contact with any of them in case they were giving him strange looks. His Converse squeaking on the linoleum had to be pissing them off too, but that was the least of his worries.
He was trying again. Attempt #14. Both hands planted on the large swinging doors into the main part of the unit and pushed them open. He walked, looking down at his feet, counting every step up to that fucking invisible barrier. This time, he didn’t even make it quite that far before he was turning around again and stalking back out the swinging doors. There was a little holding area there that led to the security doors. Anyone coming into the unit had to push a buzzer outside that to be admitted into the ward. He didn’t go back out those doors because he didn’t want to be a pain in arse ringing it all the time. In that little vestibule, he paced back and forward from one wall to another, frustration burning through him that he didn’t have the balls to face this. He stopped and slammed one of his palms against the wall and then with a soft groan, rested his head down against his arm.
The last things he said to his uncle had been a selfish diatribe of misdirected anger. He wasn’t unhappy at all that his uncle wanted to get married to a girl he adored. It wasn’t even the fact he proposed with Corey’s grandma’s engagement ring. When it all boiled down, it that burning loss and pain that his grandma really wouldn’t be coming back and she would never be wearing that ring now. That was what hurt the most, but rather than talking it out with his uncle, he had bottled it all up and got up in his face. Angry and unfair words were the last thing his uncle knew from him before he copped three bullets in the gut that nearly killed him.
He was close to crying, but once again, he sucked in a sharp gulp of air and swallowed them back. He pushed away from the wall and once again, tackled those swinging doors. There was a little bit more of a determined gait in his steps now. He was going to go into that damn room, and he was going to hold his uncles hand, and sit with him, because his uncle deserved it. He wasn’t going to be chicken shit. He wasn’t going to harbour this fear of looking at his uncle and that being the last image he had in his head of him if he died. Because he wasn’t going to die. Corey wasn’t going let him. He let his grandparents die, he wasn’t going to let his uncle be taken away too. He was going into that room, and he was going to see it with his own eyes because no matter now guilty he was over his anger and how much he regretted being an asshole, his uncle was worse off than he ever had been. He had a battle to fight and he had to know the people he loved were there to help him through it. He was going to do it. Fuck that invisible barrier. He was going to walk through it and into that ICU room where his uncle was lying unconscious. He was. Just a few more steps, no looking up, no looking back. Just keep going this time. A few feet more, into that room.
Only not.
As soon as he reached that invisible barrier again, he spun on his heel in an 180 turn and this time he ran right out of the unit, through the swinging doors, through the security entrance and kept going into the nearest bathroom to throw up in the first sink he reached. He wasn’t going past that invisible barrier today.
Maybe tomorrow...