Dante looked at his phone. His friends had called him again, asking him to bring some cash to help them with something. He didn't like how that sounded. His friends were involved with a gang. He knew that this so called favor could lead him into some big time trouble. However, Dante was a bit too loving for his own good. He just couldn't abandon his friends.
With some cash in hand, he looked at his text, trying to figure out where his friends had told him to meet them. Searching around for about an hour, he finally was able to find the place that they had told him to meet them. He walked up to them, greeting them normally. He gave them the money. Thinking this was all he had to do, he turned around to leave. However, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around to see what else they needed, he saw two other men there that he didn't recognize. Both of the men were wearing black shirts and jeans. One of them had a knife in his hand. Dante quickly grew fearful of his life. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he have to be so naive?
The man on the left looked at him and smirked.
"Aww, how precious. I'm so glad you care about your so called friends so much. Hate to break it to you wuss, but they only use you cause they know you have money. Your useless now"
The man on the right charged at him, stabbing him in the side a couple times. A piercing pain tore threw his side, making him double over when the knife was pulled out. Making sure he wouldn't be able to run for help, the man with the knife stabbed through his feet and stomped on them. Dante screamed as the men ran off with his money. His so called friends ditched him, leaving him there to die. Fortunately, someone stopped by not long after, calling an ambulance after trying to stop the bleeding that was coming from his side. As the EMT's rushed him to the nearest hospital, he struggled to stay conscious due to blood loss.
Arriving to the ER, the EMT's had barely been able to keep his vitals stabilized, however, the bleeding was not stopping. As staff rushed to Dante's side, he quickly fainted due to massive blood loss. He was doomed. Or so Dante thought.
It got him every time. Seeing that pitch black hair, that raw, muscled look that was just lying there so relaxed upon the bed cushions. If it hadn't been two days and if he hadn't been constantly changing bandages that the man kept bleeding through, Damian could've swore the man would just wake up and go on to do some cute wake-up stretches. Of course, that would be difficult now with the hundreds of stitches the man had received in his side and foot, and the IV that was injected into his arm wouldn't help much either. With a sigh, Damian released his clipboard from his chest squeeze and tapped it, glancing over what medical history the hospital could salvage up on sleeping beauty. There were some rough patches in the past for this guy: as a child, he didn't seem to be unacquainted with stitches. What a bad boy, Damian thought to himself with a light chuckle, sliding the clipboard into the slot on the bed. His gaze turned to the beeping machine by the dark beauty's bed, his tentative eyes going over the readings and searching for any abnormalities but the heart rate was normal for his resting state. The dude didn't even seem to go into prolonged shock, as Damian would've guessed.
"Any changes in Sleeping Beauty, D?" Damian smiled softly, playing with the IV bag to get it flowing. "Nah, still getting his rest to look ready for the ball it seems. How's Mister Tough Guy with the nail in his toe, Gloria?"
"Still wincin' and moanin', as usual. At least you get a cute one." He could hear her scuff in envy. "Too bad you aint gay, you can't even enjoy him."
Damian took a glance over his shoulder as the heavier woman walked on, shaking his head slightly. I'm not sure, I'm enjoying it thoroughly. He thought to himself as he get the man into what he figured would be a more comfortable position, slipping his arm back under the covers.
Waking to the sound of constant annoying beeps and footsteps scuffing about, Dante slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, making him very disoriented as he tried to sit up from his side that he had been placed on. However, his attempt failed and he fell back into the bed he was laying in and looked down. He was strapped to IV's and monitors sat all around him, making sure he wouldn't take a turn for the worse. He felt the room spin which, he was sure, was the effect of the medication they had to put him on. He moved his hands up to his head to steady his spinning world until it stopped.
He slowly looked up at the room that he was in. He was in a big and cozy looking, or it was supposed to feel cozy, hospital room. How did he even end up here? Was it because of what happened to him back in the alleyway? He then remembered that he had gotten stabbed by some guys his friends new. Some friends they were. He knew he shouldn't have trusted them. How could he be so naive? He felt a pang of pain hit his side. Looking to his feet, they were in stitches and they also hurt, but not as bad as his side.
He looked to the side of him again and there stood a doctor, nice physique and friendly looking. He looked to be around his age, maybe just a little bit older. He was surprised as not many people became doctors that young. He tried his hardest to talk, even though it hurt to do so.
He had been about to walk out the door to check on other patients, when the high-pitched beating started to pick up. Confused and worried, he quickly turned around to see the once knocked out patient now struggling to get up. "Woah there, hotshot," He called, rushing to the man's side to help lower him onto the bed. "Straining and pulling on your stitches isn't going to make your recovery any faster."
"Where am I? What's going on?" The hoarse voice demanded.
Damian could only smile, checking over the man's body and helping him to get comfortable and raising the bed. "A lot of people want to know those questions as well- just in the past tense. "By your wounds, playing with knives didn't turn out very pretty. You spent over three hours getting stitches and just getting stable. You lost quite a bit of blood, but thanks to your two day slumber party and some blood bags, your blood count has stabilized. Feeling peckish? We can talk over a nice tray lunch." Finally looking into the man's eyes, he just smiled and went to go hit a button to call in a nurse.
Dante threw a glare at the tall doctor, not appreciating the sarcasm. He knew that what he had done was stupid. Knowing this had made him very irritable and not willing to joke around. He thought he'd tell the doctor about what happened though because if he didn't, they couldn't properly treat him. Dante accepted the fact that he couldn't get up. It was making him very dizzy and nauseous anyway.
"I am hungry...Just no fried food...please... and I wasn't playing with knives. I got caught in a bad drug deal and got stabbed in the side and feet...Before you ask, I don't do drugs...I just go with a couple of guys I know when they deal...I'm well aware that that is a stupid idea...I'll not be doing it again..."
He looked away, a feeling of 'that was stupid' hitting him square in the face. Sure what he had done was indeed foolish. However, Dante wasn't good at discerning who would be a good friend for him and who wouldn't. He was just a lonely guy and wanted someone around to fill his feeling of loneliness. He laid on his side again, not wanting to look the doctor in the face. He already had a good feeling as to what he would be told by the healthcare professional and he'd rather not have to hear it face to face. He was already really embarrassed as it was. However, as he rolled onto his side, a sharp pang of pain hit him and he cried out a bit.
Damian was only now realizing sarcasm and jokes probably wasn't the way to comfort someone who is probably still in agonizing pain and woke up relatively alone. This idea was well enforced by the sour face upon the one pretty boy, and with how serious his attitude was. "I did figure as much, if we are getting it put out there. Most don't stab themselves in the side, and if they did, the angle of the stab wounds is nearly impossible for the amount of force that was put into it to make that amount of damage. Your blood test also came back negative for most of the drugs we have on record, so that's a bonus." Damian pulled up a rolling chair, taking a seat in it and crossing his knees. With a lean back, he was relaxed and simply gazed upon the man as he tried to roll around. With a shake of his head, He already could feel his own gut tightening as he knew what was about to happen.
"Calm down, tiger," Damian cooed, scooting up his chair to the bed. "Don't test the limits of stitches too much. I'm afraid you'll have to get used to sleeping on your back." He laid a hand upon his shoulder, a gentle rest, giving a short stroke as encouragement to slowly roll back over. "Plus you simply wouldn't want to miss the feast that is surely on its way." He learned fro his mistake, and bringing up what seemed like possible embarrassment from the men didn't seem like a keen idea either.
After another moment, a thin and rather fragile looking woman came in with a rolling tray, casting a smile upon them. "Well, lookie at whose up. You aren't terrorizing him yet, are you, Dr. Canery?"
"Oh no, Ms. White, of course not. We're just playing 20 questions as a way to get to know one another." Damian finally got up once more to lean over to get the rolling table and pull it over the bed, allowing for the nurse to place the covered tray upon it. "We're just going to be the best of pals, isn't that right?" He playfully asked his patient with a wink.
"Mmmhmm," the older nurse judged, shaking her head as she wheeled out. "Don't get too sassy, Dr. Canery."
"I would never, Betty," Damian replied, lifting the cover and placing it to the side, before finally taking his seat once more. "Bon Appetite," He smiled, always finding it humorous as most of the gelatinous contents that was called food jiggled with the movement. "Alright though, back to business. Don't be afraid to chew and talk, I've seen worse around here." Once more resuming the crossed knees, Damian folded his hands upon his lap, regarding the man curiously. "You've grown up around this area, haven't you? It wasn't your friends who had done this to you, was it?"
After feeling a sharp pain and crying out, he was moved back onto his side. He moved the bed up with the controls on the side of his bed as the doctor played around on his swivel chair. The way the doctor was joking around and being sarcastic wasn't at all making him laugh. He was actually a bit irritated. He held his side for a bit longer as it was still hurting pretty bad. He held it, waiting for the food that the doctor said was coming in.
When the food came in, being brought in a nice older looking nurse, he grimaced as the two exchanged jokes and sarcastic comments about him. This didn't really lighten the mood at all, it just made him even more annoyed and frustrated. He scowled as the two continued to talk about him and then she left after delivering the food that looked less than appetizing. Guess it looked better than nothing.
As the Doctor started to ask questions and as he started to eat, he started to answer the questions as well.
"I grew up in this town. It has never been too bad with crime and whatnot. I met the guys I used to call my friends a couple years ago. They would ask for money on occasion and this occasion wasn't any different. I gave it to them and was going to go back home, but a couple of guys came out that I didn't know and one of them stabbed me. I could identify them if they were to come after me again and I have a feeling they might come to me looking for more money..."
Damian nodded slowly as he listened to the man, taking it in as he leaned back. "Thankfully they wouldn't be able to infiltrate the hospital... Though there will be a time you'll have to talk to the police and possibly have to identify them. I wouldn't want to push that on you right now, with the emotions you must have." He raised a fist to rest his cheek on, resting his elbow on the handle of the chair. "How are you feeling though, on a scale 1-10? I suppose I should've asked that earlier, huh?" He gave another soft smile, though leaned forward in a more serious manner, taking in the mans expression and his tone of words.
Dante's side felt a pang of pain again. Going to hold it, he looked up at the doctor.
"I don't really care either way. If the police want to talk, i'll talk. I'm not afraid of those idiots that I thought were friends of mine...They didn't want to do the dirty work so they had someone else do it. They are cowards and I don't have cowards for friends."
Dante nodded at the doctor's question about his pain scale.
"Well, if number one is a no pain at all, I'm not there. If a ten means 'i'm in severe pain', I'm not there either. That would mean, right now, with pain level, I am at about a six. My side still hurts pretty bad, but other than that, nothing I can't really handle...They said your name is Dr. Canery right? I'm Dante. Figured you should at least know my name so you don't call me weird nicknames or whatnot..." he shoved what was left of the food he was eating down his gullet and then pushed the tray aside.
"How much longer do I need to be in this hospital? I would hate to take up room for you guys if you could just release me and have an extra space for someone who needs it"