Dangerous Minds | john wick

Chapter Thirty: I Had No Choice

Beep.

My eyes flicker as light passes through the hopeless protection of my eyelids. I attempt, with no avail, to broach my surroundings. A milky glaze creating a cloudy vision.

The mahogany wood ceiling, the only thing I can make out, is patterned precariously with square detailing creating a calming visual. The beep that had awoken me sounds again to my left hand side. Curious, I encourage the movement of my eyes which surprisingly takes more effort then I had expected.

"Ah, you're awake".

If it were capable my body would have jumped in fright, but instead I lay still as a surprisingly small man comes into view. His round face and soft features calm my elicit nerves, his friendly smile eliminating my fight or flight response.

Almost mesmerised by his friendly demeanour, I watch as he brings a stethoscope to my chest. Clearly happy with the results he returns the strange device to his coat.

"May I ask, how are you feeling?". He continues to check on the machines around me as he waits for a response.

Ignoring the urge to ask how I get here and where exactly I am, I open my lips and elicit the best response I can. "I feel fine, good actually". The sound is croaky, a foreign noise that alerts me of the lack of water I've seemed to had.

"That would be thanks to all the analgesics I've given you. You were in pretty rough shape when you got here. Can you tell me what you remember before you blacked out?".

Still focused on other things, he doesn't notice my immediate cringe as the events of the bank come flashing into my mind. My three seconds of bliss shattered.

A much shriller beep brings the doctors attention back to me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause such a reaction. If you find its to distressing to tell me that's completely fine. I just had to ensure you remembered what happened".

His concern dissipates as he asks me a few more questions to make sure my memory is intact.

"With your concussion you may experience some dizziness or neck pain, I will need you to let me know straight away if any of these symptoms show. As for you leg wound, you're very lucky. Your femoral shaft was not hit, though the bullet may have caused slight nerve damage. This injury is something that will just have to heal overtime, and with a little physiotherapy you will be back to good before you know it".

While his words are positive, the wound in my leg becomes daunting. The person who had created it - the person that I loved - makes the idea of recovery that much harder. I give him an appreciative smile but the dread and pain inside makes it lack the pleasantness it normally has.

"I'm sorry to distract you but where are we? None of this is familiar". I glance around the room, the environment clearly not suited for a medical set-up. The mahogany wood flows down into the walls, which all have deep set floor to ceiling bookshelves. It's of a timeless aesthetic with the wine red carpet and victorian style window coverings.

"We're in London, ma'am".

I choke, a spluttering cough erupting from my chest.

"London?". My voice is so high pitched it almost comes out as a squeak.

"Yes. They decided to bring you here for better treatment, it's also a lot safer.". As though that would relieve me of my confusion, he gives my arm a light pat before walking over to a desk on the opposite side of the room and sorting through a pile of papers.

"Also just so you know I suggested they give you some space. Waking up from injuries like this is never pleasant, especially when you have several beady eyes on you".