Detective Julie Gresham (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hotbrassdance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2013-12-07 02:07 am
hotbrassdance) wrote in muserevival2013-12-07 02:07 am
Entry tags:
046.1. Muse prompt
"You're just barely hanging by a thread
You wanna scream but you're down to your last breath"
One Day You Will, Lady Antebellum
Every day that passed – every minute – this sitting vigil at a hospital bedside got harder and harder. Corey, the poor soul, couldn’t even face coming into the ICU anymore. His father had reported just the day before that Corey was coping with any of it, emotionally or psychologically, and he had a mental block when it came to doing his art. Art was his way of escaping and coping, without it, he was falling apart and blaming himself for the fact Euan’s life had been hanging in the balance.
It wasn’t Corey’s fault. Not even close. He had every right to have gotten upset about his grandmother’s ring. Euan never professed to be an expert in any of this sort of thing. He was so damn inexperienced in relationships that he had just been following his heart, possibly for the first time in his life. Until then, the only thing he sunk his mind, body, heart and soul into was being a father, and raising his beautiful son. He never believed he was made for relationships. Was even one of the world’s biggest cynics when it came to love. It was why Julie just hadn’t quite believed the turn of events that had lead to all this.
She had had fingers gentle and loosely laced in with his. His hands were constantly chilled to the touch in this place. She hated it. He usually had warm hands. She was a mess herself. Usually she was presented professionally, always wore make-up, hair styled, heels, the whole package. Now she sat here in sweat pants and one of Euan’s t-shirts with his leather jacket wrapped around her in lieu of his arms. It smelt like cigarette smoke and his cologne. It was oddly comforting, considering she disliked smoking, but that was just part of him. Her red hair was pulled loosely back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, there was no make-up. Each day, it got harder and harder to even remain presentable to come here and sit with him at the hospital until it was time to go home at night and try to sleep in bed alone.
Ironically, the one who was coping the best with this whole awful thing was Ciaran. The little boy who looked so much younger than his age, and who had been absolutely distraught and inconsolable when his aunt and uncle first broke the news to him that his daddy had been ‘hurt by an evil man’. The debate about whether to tell him the truth had been seemingly endless at first. No one knew how to handle this themselves, but they all knew that the only thing Euan would want them to worry about, well above and beyond himself, was his son. It was a very diluted version of the actual fact, and even if he was terribly upset at first, he was brought here every single day to sit with his dad. The little boy occupied a recliner chair beside the bed, his right hand holding his daddy’s, and his left drawing intently in a sketch pad full of images he was projecting onto paper. He stopped talking, though. He didn’t say a word to anyone anymore. A nod or a shake of his head was the only thing they got as answers. Julie had no idea what would happen to the gorgeous child if Euan didn’t make it. For now, he was being cared for by his godparents, Keiran and Mandy. It was what Euan would have wanted.
Her green eyes traced over Euan’s way too still form in the bed. She put her hand up and closed it around the ring hanging from her neck on a chain. It had been there ever since Riley had given the ring back to her in the wake of Euan’s shooting. She had tried at different intervals to give it back to his family, but they told her it was hers. It was hers and she should be wearing it. She even tried to give it back to Corey when she bumped into him outside of the ICU the other day. He had looked like death warmed up, and that was a generous description. He had looked at the ring clutched between her fingers and actually wavered on his feet so dangerously, she had reached out to grab him, sure he was going to pass out right then and there. He had righted himself, though, and gently but pointedly pushed her away before he just got into an elevator and didn’t come back. He didn’t take the ring off her.
She didn’t know if somewhere inside, the practical side of her was preparing for the worst. Every day she came here, she was bracing herself for his final breath, and to just... slip away. She wasn’t even remotely prepared for it when he did anything but that, however. All it was at first was a sensation that his fingers were moving in her hand. It was so slight, barely there, almost like a sense of déjà vu that you wished it so hard, and now your mind was playing tricks on you that it was actually happening. But the second time she was staring unwaveringly at his hand and there was no mistaking it. The slight movement in his fingers were united with a flickering of his eyes.
She gasped in shock and sprung out of the chair. She had no idea what the hell she was supposed to do, but a string of very un-ladylike cussing fell from her lips in a panic and she was calling out to the doctors or the nurses, or even the fucking janitor. Anyone who would listen and come to try to explain this to her. But his fingers had moved, and his eyes. This had to be good. It had to be some sort of progress. Because if it was the beginning of the end, she knew her whole world would bottom out from under her, and she would never be the same again.
Julie Gresham // Original Character // 1,011 words
You wanna scream but you're down to your last breath"
One Day You Will, Lady Antebellum
Every day that passed – every minute – this sitting vigil at a hospital bedside got harder and harder. Corey, the poor soul, couldn’t even face coming into the ICU anymore. His father had reported just the day before that Corey was coping with any of it, emotionally or psychologically, and he had a mental block when it came to doing his art. Art was his way of escaping and coping, without it, he was falling apart and blaming himself for the fact Euan’s life had been hanging in the balance.
It wasn’t Corey’s fault. Not even close. He had every right to have gotten upset about his grandmother’s ring. Euan never professed to be an expert in any of this sort of thing. He was so damn inexperienced in relationships that he had just been following his heart, possibly for the first time in his life. Until then, the only thing he sunk his mind, body, heart and soul into was being a father, and raising his beautiful son. He never believed he was made for relationships. Was even one of the world’s biggest cynics when it came to love. It was why Julie just hadn’t quite believed the turn of events that had lead to all this.
She had had fingers gentle and loosely laced in with his. His hands were constantly chilled to the touch in this place. She hated it. He usually had warm hands. She was a mess herself. Usually she was presented professionally, always wore make-up, hair styled, heels, the whole package. Now she sat here in sweat pants and one of Euan’s t-shirts with his leather jacket wrapped around her in lieu of his arms. It smelt like cigarette smoke and his cologne. It was oddly comforting, considering she disliked smoking, but that was just part of him. Her red hair was pulled loosely back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, there was no make-up. Each day, it got harder and harder to even remain presentable to come here and sit with him at the hospital until it was time to go home at night and try to sleep in bed alone.
Ironically, the one who was coping the best with this whole awful thing was Ciaran. The little boy who looked so much younger than his age, and who had been absolutely distraught and inconsolable when his aunt and uncle first broke the news to him that his daddy had been ‘hurt by an evil man’. The debate about whether to tell him the truth had been seemingly endless at first. No one knew how to handle this themselves, but they all knew that the only thing Euan would want them to worry about, well above and beyond himself, was his son. It was a very diluted version of the actual fact, and even if he was terribly upset at first, he was brought here every single day to sit with his dad. The little boy occupied a recliner chair beside the bed, his right hand holding his daddy’s, and his left drawing intently in a sketch pad full of images he was projecting onto paper. He stopped talking, though. He didn’t say a word to anyone anymore. A nod or a shake of his head was the only thing they got as answers. Julie had no idea what would happen to the gorgeous child if Euan didn’t make it. For now, he was being cared for by his godparents, Keiran and Mandy. It was what Euan would have wanted.
Her green eyes traced over Euan’s way too still form in the bed. She put her hand up and closed it around the ring hanging from her neck on a chain. It had been there ever since Riley had given the ring back to her in the wake of Euan’s shooting. She had tried at different intervals to give it back to his family, but they told her it was hers. It was hers and she should be wearing it. She even tried to give it back to Corey when she bumped into him outside of the ICU the other day. He had looked like death warmed up, and that was a generous description. He had looked at the ring clutched between her fingers and actually wavered on his feet so dangerously, she had reached out to grab him, sure he was going to pass out right then and there. He had righted himself, though, and gently but pointedly pushed her away before he just got into an elevator and didn’t come back. He didn’t take the ring off her.
She didn’t know if somewhere inside, the practical side of her was preparing for the worst. Every day she came here, she was bracing herself for his final breath, and to just... slip away. She wasn’t even remotely prepared for it when he did anything but that, however. All it was at first was a sensation that his fingers were moving in her hand. It was so slight, barely there, almost like a sense of déjà vu that you wished it so hard, and now your mind was playing tricks on you that it was actually happening. But the second time she was staring unwaveringly at his hand and there was no mistaking it. The slight movement in his fingers were united with a flickering of his eyes.
She gasped in shock and sprung out of the chair. She had no idea what the hell she was supposed to do, but a string of very un-ladylike cussing fell from her lips in a panic and she was calling out to the doctors or the nurses, or even the fucking janitor. Anyone who would listen and come to try to explain this to her. But his fingers had moved, and his eyes. This had to be good. It had to be some sort of progress. Because if it was the beginning of the end, she knew her whole world would bottom out from under her, and she would never be the same again.
Julie Gresham // Original Character // 1,011 words