Destina Raquel Alvarez (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laluchadora) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-02-17 07:24 pm
laluchadora) wrote in muserevival2014-02-17 07:24 pm
Quote of the day #48
“Guilt is anger directed at ourselves - at what we did or did not do. Resentment is anger directed at others - at what they did or did not do.”
- Peter McWilliams
Three days... they were sitting at three days now without any improvement in Emilio's condition whatsoever. All they could do was just wait, and Des had never been good at waiting. Flynn had been absolutely amazing, keeping Des company and being there for her when she needed him most, and that opened up a whole different level of emotions for her, but whatever the case, she was glad that he was here with her. She needed him more than she could explain, and he just stayed right there.
But on the third day, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, Des was finishing off a lukewarm cup of coffee that Flynn had grabbed for her. And that was when a cop Des didn't recognize came over to where they were sitting and asked to have a word with her alone. Des almost instinctively reached for Flynn's hand because she needed him there, and the last thing she wanted was to face anymore unwanted news alone. "He stays," she informed the officer numbly. "Whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of him, because he's not going anywhere." Getting Des to send Flynn away from her right now would be like an involuntary pulling of teeth, and the officer seemed to recognize that, so he took the seat on the other side of her from Flynn. "Ms. Alvarez, I've just come to inform you that the driver of the car that struck your brother's car will be released from the hospital tomorrow into police custody. It isn't much, but it's the best information we can give right now."
Des felt completely numb as she looked at the officer. He was young, probably new to the force -- he didn't have the confidence of someone like Euan who'd been at it a long time. "What's his name?" Des asked, her voice far too calm for someone who was in as much emotional turmoil as she was. When the officer didn't answer immediately, her voice became more focused. "I want to know the name of the person who hurt my brother."
The officer looked down at the notepad he was carrying, scribbled with the notes on the case, and read it off to her. "Jonathan Michaelson, Jr. Age 23. Bloodwork showed alcohol and controlled substances in his system, just as we suspected."
And when she heard the name, Des just stopped... stopped breathing, and felt for all the world like she stopped even experiencing time's passage. Because she knew that name. Knew it all too well, really. It was one of her own fucking patients. How could it be one of her patients? She knew that they fell off the wagon more often than not, because that was just the nature of the beast of addiction. There was no way that a majority of patients would never relapse, but this just -- at this point, it was personal, and Des's mind went crazy, trying to figure out how she felt about this. A huge portion of it was guilt. What if she'd said or done something different in her sessions with Jon? He always seemed like a decent kid, so maybe Destina just wasn't a decent therapist. But after that process, her mind somehow tried to block her blaming herself, and switched it up to blaming Jon.
Logically, the kid wasn't to know that he'd hurt Des's brother if he got high and drunk and drove, but everybody knew that driving under the influence was a dangerous thing, and that people could die, and why did her own patient have to spit in the face of that and hurt her big brother? Des was ordinarily very logical and realistic about things. There was no doubt about that. But right now, her big brother was hurt, still unconscious, and this fucking kid that she'd poured so much time into trying to help had hurt him, and was fine... waking up with treatable injuries, while all they could do with Emilio's injuries was sit and wait and hope for the best.
"Excuse me officer," she murmured, standing up and walking off toward the nurse's station with a serious case of tunnel vision. She couldn't see anyone or anything around her but the goal in her mind, and she had every intention of seeing it through. She reached the nurse's station, finding a young nurse who was obviously new around here, and flashed her hospital ID at her. "Hi, there. Could you tell me which room Jonathan Michaelson's is? He's a patient of mine, and he was in an accident." The young nurse wasn't to know that Emilio was Des's brother, and she flipped through a chart until she found what she was looking for, giving Des the room number, and pointing her down the hall.
And then she was off, a woman on a mission as her high heeled shoes click-clacked on the tile floors. She had very nearly reached the door of Jon's room, an explosion of angry ranting already started up in her mind, and when her hand came to rest on the door handle, she was ready to open it and already calling out, "You stupid son of a bitch!" in her anger. But before she could turn the handle, seemingly out of nowhere, Flynn was there, arms wrapping around her as he pulled her away, turning her to face him. She was so fucking angry she wanted to cry, and she spat at him, "What the fuck are you doing?! Get away from me! Don't... Don't... don't..."
His voice was calm as he spoke her name and pulled her close to him as she fought to get away. "Des, baby, take it easy, okay? I know you're angry... Fuck knows you have a right to be. But this isn't gonna help Emilio, and more than that, it's not gonna help you either. Don't do this, Des. I promise you, it's not worth it." He kept holding onto her, no matter how hard she pushed him away, and as much as she wanted to keep resisting, she couldn't. She was exhausted -- she honestly hadn't slept more than a few minutes here or there in three days, and this... this realization that the person who'd hurt her brother was someone she herself had been trying to help -- and apparently failed -- was just more than her exhausted mind could take.
The harder she fought him, the tighter Flynn held on, and before she could break away from him, she realized just how weak she was from a combination of hardly sleeping, hardly eating, and worrying herself sick, and before she new it, she was sobbing inconsolably in Flynn's arms and clinging to him for dear life. Between her tears, she managed to choke out, "Flynn, it's... That kid's my patient. He's my patient..."
And those broken bits of information were all it took for Flynn to understand her pain and heartache that much more. He stayed quiet, holding her close in the hallway, and when her arms wrapped around his neck, he leaned close to whisper to her that he was taking her home and she was going to get some sleep whether she liked it or not... It was definitely a case of not, but for once, Des just wasn't up for arguing anymore.
Destina Alvarez
Original Character
[Flynn isstrips4u, and is used lovingly and with permission from his mun.]
- Peter McWilliams
Three days... they were sitting at three days now without any improvement in Emilio's condition whatsoever. All they could do was just wait, and Des had never been good at waiting. Flynn had been absolutely amazing, keeping Des company and being there for her when she needed him most, and that opened up a whole different level of emotions for her, but whatever the case, she was glad that he was here with her. She needed him more than she could explain, and he just stayed right there.
But on the third day, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, Des was finishing off a lukewarm cup of coffee that Flynn had grabbed for her. And that was when a cop Des didn't recognize came over to where they were sitting and asked to have a word with her alone. Des almost instinctively reached for Flynn's hand because she needed him there, and the last thing she wanted was to face anymore unwanted news alone. "He stays," she informed the officer numbly. "Whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of him, because he's not going anywhere." Getting Des to send Flynn away from her right now would be like an involuntary pulling of teeth, and the officer seemed to recognize that, so he took the seat on the other side of her from Flynn. "Ms. Alvarez, I've just come to inform you that the driver of the car that struck your brother's car will be released from the hospital tomorrow into police custody. It isn't much, but it's the best information we can give right now."
Des felt completely numb as she looked at the officer. He was young, probably new to the force -- he didn't have the confidence of someone like Euan who'd been at it a long time. "What's his name?" Des asked, her voice far too calm for someone who was in as much emotional turmoil as she was. When the officer didn't answer immediately, her voice became more focused. "I want to know the name of the person who hurt my brother."
The officer looked down at the notepad he was carrying, scribbled with the notes on the case, and read it off to her. "Jonathan Michaelson, Jr. Age 23. Bloodwork showed alcohol and controlled substances in his system, just as we suspected."
And when she heard the name, Des just stopped... stopped breathing, and felt for all the world like she stopped even experiencing time's passage. Because she knew that name. Knew it all too well, really. It was one of her own fucking patients. How could it be one of her patients? She knew that they fell off the wagon more often than not, because that was just the nature of the beast of addiction. There was no way that a majority of patients would never relapse, but this just -- at this point, it was personal, and Des's mind went crazy, trying to figure out how she felt about this. A huge portion of it was guilt. What if she'd said or done something different in her sessions with Jon? He always seemed like a decent kid, so maybe Destina just wasn't a decent therapist. But after that process, her mind somehow tried to block her blaming herself, and switched it up to blaming Jon.
Logically, the kid wasn't to know that he'd hurt Des's brother if he got high and drunk and drove, but everybody knew that driving under the influence was a dangerous thing, and that people could die, and why did her own patient have to spit in the face of that and hurt her big brother? Des was ordinarily very logical and realistic about things. There was no doubt about that. But right now, her big brother was hurt, still unconscious, and this fucking kid that she'd poured so much time into trying to help had hurt him, and was fine... waking up with treatable injuries, while all they could do with Emilio's injuries was sit and wait and hope for the best.
"Excuse me officer," she murmured, standing up and walking off toward the nurse's station with a serious case of tunnel vision. She couldn't see anyone or anything around her but the goal in her mind, and she had every intention of seeing it through. She reached the nurse's station, finding a young nurse who was obviously new around here, and flashed her hospital ID at her. "Hi, there. Could you tell me which room Jonathan Michaelson's is? He's a patient of mine, and he was in an accident." The young nurse wasn't to know that Emilio was Des's brother, and she flipped through a chart until she found what she was looking for, giving Des the room number, and pointing her down the hall.
And then she was off, a woman on a mission as her high heeled shoes click-clacked on the tile floors. She had very nearly reached the door of Jon's room, an explosion of angry ranting already started up in her mind, and when her hand came to rest on the door handle, she was ready to open it and already calling out, "You stupid son of a bitch!" in her anger. But before she could turn the handle, seemingly out of nowhere, Flynn was there, arms wrapping around her as he pulled her away, turning her to face him. She was so fucking angry she wanted to cry, and she spat at him, "What the fuck are you doing?! Get away from me! Don't... Don't... don't..."
His voice was calm as he spoke her name and pulled her close to him as she fought to get away. "Des, baby, take it easy, okay? I know you're angry... Fuck knows you have a right to be. But this isn't gonna help Emilio, and more than that, it's not gonna help you either. Don't do this, Des. I promise you, it's not worth it." He kept holding onto her, no matter how hard she pushed him away, and as much as she wanted to keep resisting, she couldn't. She was exhausted -- she honestly hadn't slept more than a few minutes here or there in three days, and this... this realization that the person who'd hurt her brother was someone she herself had been trying to help -- and apparently failed -- was just more than her exhausted mind could take.
The harder she fought him, the tighter Flynn held on, and before she could break away from him, she realized just how weak she was from a combination of hardly sleeping, hardly eating, and worrying herself sick, and before she new it, she was sobbing inconsolably in Flynn's arms and clinging to him for dear life. Between her tears, she managed to choke out, "Flynn, it's... That kid's my patient. He's my patient..."
And those broken bits of information were all it took for Flynn to understand her pain and heartache that much more. He stayed quiet, holding her close in the hallway, and when her arms wrapped around his neck, he leaned close to whisper to her that he was taking her home and she was going to get some sleep whether she liked it or not... It was definitely a case of not, but for once, Des just wasn't up for arguing anymore.
Original Character
[Flynn is
strips4u, and is used lovingly and with permission from his mun.]