[CLOSED] Crash
[About two hours after THIS]
Rob really felt like hitting something - or someone - when he woke up again a couple of hours later. He couldn’t take any more of this. He wanted it over, either way. His breathing was shallow and laboured as he opened his eyes just a little to take in his surroundings. He had no recollection of the last couple of hours, just that he was still here in this hospital bed and still getting sicker. For the first time since this thing took a hold of him, he was really starting to think dying would be a relief.
But his thoughts turned to Fox as he struggled with another wave of short, raspy gasping breaths. His heart felt like it was going to pound through his rib cage and he wasn’t sure he could move if he wanted to. A crushing pain clawed into his chest and a fleeting thought had him fearing he was about to have a heart attack. “I- need- hel-” he tried to warn, turning his eyes in Peter’s direction. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong. He needed help. He sucked in a tiny breath but it caught in his throat like a sip of drink gone down the wrong way and he started to cough. Every small inhalation he managed felt like someone was stabbing him in the chest and the inability to breathe evenly was starting to flame a panic inside him.
He could taste blood and he caught sight of garish red streaks splattered over the front of his white hospital gown. The last thing he was aware of was a sensation of lights flashing in his vision, and then he crashed, the machines screeching over head when his lungs struggled to operate, causing him to choke on the blood in his throat as he stopped breathing.
Rob really felt like hitting something - or someone - when he woke up again a couple of hours later. He couldn’t take any more of this. He wanted it over, either way. His breathing was shallow and laboured as he opened his eyes just a little to take in his surroundings. He had no recollection of the last couple of hours, just that he was still here in this hospital bed and still getting sicker. For the first time since this thing took a hold of him, he was really starting to think dying would be a relief.
But his thoughts turned to Fox as he struggled with another wave of short, raspy gasping breaths. His heart felt like it was going to pound through his rib cage and he wasn’t sure he could move if he wanted to. A crushing pain clawed into his chest and a fleeting thought had him fearing he was about to have a heart attack. “I- need- hel-” he tried to warn, turning his eyes in Peter’s direction. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong. He needed help. He sucked in a tiny breath but it caught in his throat like a sip of drink gone down the wrong way and he started to cough. Every small inhalation he managed felt like someone was stabbing him in the chest and the inability to breathe evenly was starting to flame a panic inside him.
He could taste blood and he caught sight of garish red streaks splattered over the front of his white hospital gown. The last thing he was aware of was a sensation of lights flashing in his vision, and then he crashed, the machines screeching over head when his lungs struggled to operate, causing him to choke on the blood in his throat as he stopped breathing.