Detective Verse: Here Comes the Sun
She woke up.
Yes, it was just like that. One moment Jo knew nothing but blackness and absolute silence then she opened her eyes and took a breath.
“Jo? Joanna!” Her mom appeared in her line of sight, tears rolling down her cheeks and squeezing her hand so tight it actually hurt.
“Mom?” she croaked, her throat rough and painful.
Why did her throat hurt? Her mind was a little fuzzy and muddled, just like it got sometimes when she woke up in the mornings after a long night on the job. Then it all started to come back. She’d been shot. She’d been dying on a sidewalk a few feet from her apartment and now… she was in a hospital bed. She wasn’t dead.
“I’ll get a nurse, I’ll get a nurse,” her mom said then rushed out of the room.
Jo didn’t get much time to take it all in. Her chest felt funny and she was surrounded by machines which beeped and looked like medical stuff but then the nurse came with her mother, who was still crying and they started to check her over. The doctor was called, they asked a bunch of questions but Jo’s throat still hurt and she didn’t like talking.
Was she in any pain? How did she feel? How many fingers? Squeeze my hand. Wiggle your toes. Take a deep breath, let it out slow.
The doctor’s voice became a sort of blur, Jo responding when needed by her brain was still trying to catch up.
“How long?” she asked, looking at her mom.
The number shocked her into silence. The doctor said she looked good, looked healthy. They were going to monitor her for a little longer and then they’d talk about physical therapy. Jesus. Jo couldn’t even process the idea. She just nodded stupidly and squeezed her mom’s hand tighter.
She’d been shot and now she was waking up. It was terrifying, almost as scary as being shot. The world had kept going on right around her while she’d just lied there. She almost couldn’t wrap her mind around it.
“Where’s Sam?” she asked as a sense of panic rose up. She needed Sam to get her through this. She couldn’t deal with this without Sam.
Her mom brushed her hair back, “He’ll be back. Don’t worry, he’ll be back.”
Yes, it was just like that. One moment Jo knew nothing but blackness and absolute silence then she opened her eyes and took a breath.
“Jo? Joanna!” Her mom appeared in her line of sight, tears rolling down her cheeks and squeezing her hand so tight it actually hurt.
“Mom?” she croaked, her throat rough and painful.
Why did her throat hurt? Her mind was a little fuzzy and muddled, just like it got sometimes when she woke up in the mornings after a long night on the job. Then it all started to come back. She’d been shot. She’d been dying on a sidewalk a few feet from her apartment and now… she was in a hospital bed. She wasn’t dead.
“I’ll get a nurse, I’ll get a nurse,” her mom said then rushed out of the room.
Jo didn’t get much time to take it all in. Her chest felt funny and she was surrounded by machines which beeped and looked like medical stuff but then the nurse came with her mother, who was still crying and they started to check her over. The doctor was called, they asked a bunch of questions but Jo’s throat still hurt and she didn’t like talking.
Was she in any pain? How did she feel? How many fingers? Squeeze my hand. Wiggle your toes. Take a deep breath, let it out slow.
The doctor’s voice became a sort of blur, Jo responding when needed by her brain was still trying to catch up.
“How long?” she asked, looking at her mom.
The number shocked her into silence. The doctor said she looked good, looked healthy. They were going to monitor her for a little longer and then they’d talk about physical therapy. Jesus. Jo couldn’t even process the idea. She just nodded stupidly and squeezed her mom’s hand tighter.
She’d been shot and now she was waking up. It was terrifying, almost as scary as being shot. The world had kept going on right around her while she’d just lied there. She almost couldn’t wrap her mind around it.
“Where’s Sam?” she asked as a sense of panic rose up. She needed Sam to get her through this. She couldn’t deal with this without Sam.
Her mom brushed her hair back, “He’ll be back. Don’t worry, he’ll be back.”