It was hard falling asleep, and even after getting two,-maybe three hours-of sleep, she wakes up again. Changing to her back, the other side, stomach, and back to that first side; nothing worked. Erin's mind said yes, the rest of her body said no. So she gave up and pulled out her laptop, to see
this.
Countless calls were made, but nothing happened. Each time it rolled to voice mail, and she didn't bother to leave a message if he didn't bother to pick up. Each time the phone rang, she'd reply with her own long roll of gaelic curses. After the fifth try, she remembered that the rest of her family exists. Peter and him were close, so Erin called him first.
And thankfully, he kindly explained-in very few words- where they were. With that she was off. Erin called a cab and the man was very understanding-or just scared shitless of a little girl mummbling something like a hex this early in the morning- and made it to the hospital in no time. Her first instinct was to tackle her twin and examine his wounds herself, but those instincts where cut short by seeing him somewhat peacefully asleep. And that a nurse was able to hold her back and got her to agree not to wake him. True to her promise she slumps down in the chair next to his bed to watch over him.
Blog: Whoever did that better watch their back. You wont know when or where, but i'll be sure to remind you why.