Chapter One~

He hovered over her bed. His hands clenched the fabric under his crossed arms. He couldn’t get the image out of his head, finding her beneath the car. Dead. He knew that she wasn’t dead�"he wouldn’t be there if she was�"but she looked the part. Her eyelids a pale blue and closed. She shouldn’t look that way. She should be flushed and colored, not hollow and without life. His mind kept pushing the memory back: broken windows, blood splattered across the highway, metal chunks like petals leaving a trail. He could still feel the rain spewing against his back as he got out of his car and crossed the lanes of traffic to inspect the flipped vehicle, finding her face in all the wreckage.

 

I shouldn't be here, he thought, pacing along the back wall of the room.

 

No, you shouldn't, his conscious yelled back.

 

I should be down the hall beating the crap out of the guy that hit her.

 

It laughed, you wouldn't even get two feet near him.

 

He clenched his fists and glanced out the small window by her bed. It was nearly two in the morning, giving a limited view of possible distractions. The spaced out light posts and benches being the only things outside that were visible in the darkness. Every now and then, a staff member or headlights providing a different subject to try and distract himself with.

 

"Mr. Tucker, visiting hours were finished a long time ago." He looked over his shoulder at Wendy, one of the ER nurses assigned to the room, and frowned. She had been bugging him all night. "Now, I've been very lenient with you, but I have rules to follow two. Go home and get some sleep. Come back here in the morning when visiting hours start again."

 

He shook his head and focused his attention back on the body in the bed. "I want to stay."

 

"Let me rephrase what I already said." She paused and leaded against the doorframe. "Go before I call security to come and force you out."

 

He frowned. "I'll wait in the lobby."

 

She waited until he walked past her into the hall before closing the door to the room. Her suspicions had subsided from when he had first came in with the poor girl draped in his arms. She remembered her face pierced with shards of glass while the rest of her skin was already speckling with bruises. She also remembered a man being brought in by ambulance  not to long after with the same type of injuries, except less severe. Something that she knew she would never forget was the look of sheer concern in Mr. Tucker's eyes when the girl's body was taken from his and rushed into the back on a stretcher. Those eyes were clouded with panic and a dull sense of sorrow that she knew only trauma could bring. In a way, she felt bad for the poor guy.

 

After Wendy had deposited him down at the waiting room, Mr. Tucker poured himself a luke-warm cup of coffee from the machine in the corner of the room. It was bitter and in dire need of creamer, but his thoughts were not on that in particular, so he sipped the liquid with only a slight puckering of his lips.

 

And so he waited diligently all morning, fighting the grogginess that came with it. People staggered in and out of the room, sitting for a couple minutes, leaving, coming back, and continuing the pattern until leaving for a final time. He watched them carefully, silently studying their faces to see if they became stressed or sad, any of the emotions that came with someone suffering. Even if he did see those expressions, there was a positive thought in the back of his mind that would prevent him from doing anything to comfort them. He didn't know them, nor did he want to.

 

When seven o'clock hit, Mr. Tucker was one of those people who were breaking the pattern. He headed to the elevator and waited patiently for the doors to open, then after stepping inside, he pressed the button for the fourth floor. His foot tapped a steady rhythm against the tile as he moved upwards, only breaking when the doors opened for a second time to let him out. He knew exactly where her room was located and didn't need anyone to point him in the right direction. When he arrived at the door, it was closed, but he could see her laying in the exact same spot that she was when he was kicked out.

 

His fingers traced the plastic railing around her bed as he sat silently beside her. The chair itself was uncomfortable, but he imagined that the bed she was lying in was even worse. He watched the machine across from him on the opposite side of the bed as the lines rose and fell when she breathed, feeling a bit of quickening of his heart as it leveled out when she exhaled. There was a strange discomfort, he felt, about watching someone's life on a screen, it being only defined by a red line and a bunch of numbers. But, either way, it meant that she was alive, and that was all that anyone could ask.

 

His mind wondered to her family. Did she have parents? A boyfriend? Anyone at all? If she did, wouldn't they be here by know? He knew her phone was found among the wreckage along with her license, so wouldn't that mean someone would tell her parents? Wouldn't they want to know that their daughter was lying unconscious in a hospital bed in the result of a car accident? One would think so.

 

He chuckled under his breath. He didn't even know her name, instead he was wondering about her parents' integrity and interest for their daughter. At least someone is, his conscious fired again.

 

When Wendy made her rounds around noon, she brought along with her a tray of food that  he knew would go uneaten. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, he figured, deciding whether or not she was going to say something. After a second or two, he decided to beat her to it.

 

"Has anyone besides me come to see her?"

 

Wendy smirked as she concentrated on reading the machine. "No. Just you, Mr. Tucker."

 

He grimaced at the sound of his name. "Don't call me that. Call me Shay." He declared, and without a second thought continued, "Do you know if they contacted her parents or someone, yet?"

 

"I can't share that information with you." She stated simply, turning towards the IV.

 

"You mean to say that you can't tell the guy who pulled this girl out from under a vehicle if someone even knows that she's in the hospital?" He huffed and crossed his arms.

 

"That's exactly what I'm saying," She paused, eyeing him. "but if you must know, yes, her brother was contacted yesterday night."

 

"Do you know when someone is going to be here?" He demanded next, a bit relieved to know that she at least had somebody.

 

"No," Wendy shook her head and pulled out a syringe. "and I already bent the rules for you, twice, so don't push me."

 

He stayed quiet, acknowledging the fact that she was right and could lose her job if anyone ever found out. He couldn't help but wonder though, if her brother even cared.

 

Wendy discarded the empty syringe in the carton set aside for needles and headed to the door to continue her rounds. She paused by the door, though, and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Her name is Julia. If you wanted to know, that is."

 

Mr. Tucker--Shay-- had the feeling that she wanted him to know that piece of information. However little of a piece it was, at least it was something. Something that he could hold on to.

 

It took another night of waiting in the room with the bitter-tasting coffee before the girl named Julia woke up from her slumber.

 

He had been watching her face, studying the tiny veins placed beneath her eyelids, when like a flicker of a candle, her eyes opened. It was a move that made his heart beat rapidly, in the same fashion as if he had just been shocked by electricity. Her mouth widened in shock and unfamiliarity, and the lines jutted extremely high on the machine. An excruciatingly loud alarm sounded, bringing along with it a flood of nurses and a couple of people in doctor's coats. They huddled around her, pushing Shay to the outside only to watch as one of the nurses put an oxygen mask over Julia's face. He could tell it wasn't oxygen gas being pumped though, seeing as her body relaxed down into the mattress instead of being a rigid board. 

 

Most of the doctors left the room after a couple of minutes of observation. Only two of the five nurses stayed in the room after that point, allowing Shay to sneak back inside. He stood at the end of her bed and saw that her eyes were closed again, cuing another night in waiting for the sleeping beauty to be woken again. 

 

Author's Note

Could I have some feedback please? I love criticism :)

Reviews

[spitballing]

I saw a few typos but nothing to bad. I also noticed that the darkness of the font changed shortly after the start. This site did the same kind of stuff to the story I posted, so ya got to keep your eyes open.

Other then that though, good so far. Nice character development with Shay. Pretty interesting guy. I'm not sure he would be allowed to stay though since he has no relation to her.

So far, pretty interested to see what happens next.

[Mikayla_Stagg]

I enjoyed this and it was a nice read. The spacing is a little funky though. Its too close inside the paragraph but each paragraph is too far away from the next. Its just a little weird.

[CapnKujo]

I enjoyed it a lot. I dunno where it's going (which isn't a problem) and that makes it harder for me to stop reading, so I'd say that's probably a good thing! I thought that for a few moments it was a bit dull though I understand you were using this all to build a scene. I think it was well written, despite a few typos ('two' instead of 'too', for one example), and I've enjoyed it thus far.

[Casper Cross]

"Her eyelids a pale blue and closed." I think is a fragmented sentence, but you can use those for effect and I think you do that well here. What you should do with this sentence is ask yourself.. "how does he know her eyes are pale blue if they are closed?"

Again, very good writing. Not as polished as the first chapter but I think once you read and edit it a couple of times it will have the same clarity and pace.

[J. K. Beach]

Katelyn--

Again, I love your very apt descriptions, asides, and dialogue. One especially, caught my eye (or ear)--when you describe the accident scene and you say there were "...metal chunks like petals leaving a trail." The image of metal chunks and flower petals is such a stark contrast, but a very interesting and descriptive one, not to mention the inner rhyme (and you say you can't write poetry...hah!)

I do see a discrepancy with Mr. Tucker's/Shay's name as the story develops. You don't have him reveal his name (Shay) to nurse Wendy until after he has been in the waiting several hours room with his narrative voice referring to himself as Mr. Tucker again, and again. You might want to slip his name in the conversation earlier. Wendy might still call him Mr. Tucker and Jules probably will in the beginning, but he should use and think Shay when he is referring to himself, especially if he is not that old. (I don't think I've ever called myself Mr. Beach in my head.) Just a minor point, but it's a little distracting. You also might want to establish his age somewhere around now (maybe in a casual aside) since it will flavor his relationship with Jules.

You may have all that planned out, and if so, ignore my comments, but based on this chapter alone it seems to need some of these things to be worked out.

I am looking forward to chapter three!

[Katelyn]

Although I will not reveal my master plans for the story (haha), I do see the distraction with the names. I'll have to go back and fix that. In relation to the age, I had completely forgotten about it. You know how sometimes you forget to type a word, but in your mind you thought you did? Yep, that's what happened with that. I'll include it in the next chapter for sure, though. Thank you for the review!

[J. K. Beach]

Your welcome, Katelyn. Keep up the good work!

[kylie giamba]

Love the personification of conscious, really enhances the struggling he's going through and overall the emotion in the piece. Great job :)

[livetowrite]

Wow i want this book well done to you.

[Katelyn]

thanks :) I appreciate it.

[Jack Wolfe]

She had been bugging him all night. (you can eliminate this line, the dialog in the next sentence tells us this.)

"Let me rephrase what I already said." She paused and leaded against the doorframe. "Go before I call security to come and force you out."

“Let me rephrase,” she paused and leaned against the door-frame. “Go, before I call security.”

She waited until he walked past her into the hall before closing the door to the room.

She waited until he was in the hall, before closing the door behind her.

Here you change POV's so you may consider a Chapter break ( *** )

After Wendy had (deposited) him down at the waiting room. I'd change this to something more simplistic 'led'.

Here you switch perspectives once more (from Wendy to Mr. Tucker) Establish whose perspective you're in. . . if Wendy's then she can't tell me his thoughts, or that the coffee he's drinking is Luke-warm, from Mr. Tuckers, Establish it from the opening line.


Simplify your lines:

And so he waited (diligently) all morning, fighting the grogginess that came with it. (A nasty adverb that lends nothing to the sentence, omit.

He waited all morning, fighting the grogginess overtaking him.

People staggered in and out of the room, ( using the word staggered implies you have people stumbling all over the place like drunks.)

The story is beginning to develop, here we have a young woman who was in a car-wreck, and Mr. Tucker who I assume was a pedestrian who witness the wreck. Now, the questions come about. If indeed he witnessed the events, then pulled her out, why didn't we see that scene? Why didn't he go over to the other drivers car to check if they were alright? Granted, he may have witnessed their stupidity and be angry, but I would think any normal person would still be concerned. Why is he at the hospital? Presumably he called the police, so when the police and EMT's arrived, why wasn't he questioned about the event? Why did he follow her to the hospital, the EMT's wouldn't have allowed him to ride along. And the bigger question, why in the world would a random guy be so concerned about a stranger?

I think you're going for the romantic aspect, but he comes off a bit creepy . . . I get the strange feeling that he perversely fell in love with unconscious woman. . . which could equally play out even creepier scenarios.

Its an enjoyable read, but we need information, some motive behind his actions. In doing so the reader has a chance to like Mr. Shay Tucker, but without, you leave the filling in to the reader, and then a whole different persona is engraved, rather than the one you intended.

I hope this helps.

[Aarea]

Hmmm, interesting. I like Shay. I'm not sure if I should yet, but I do. Nice writing. Some mistakes here and there with grammar, but overall a good read. It kept me reading to the end, which is rare on this website. Nice work! :)