Bastard

Such a sweet girl, but boy, could she pack a punch. 

My head rocked and my skin burnt as she hit me again.

‘Don’t you DO this to me, you bastard!’ 

She was screaming, hysterical. I didn’t want to do it to her, but I was helpless, remote, unconnected, floating somewhere in a corner of the room, a spectator.

Watching through closed eyes I saw them drag her off me, out of the room, still screaming, still trying to strike me.

Then a nurse appeared. I saw her look towards me shake her head and turn away. She began removing tubes, cables and switching off machines, clearing the debris of a lost cause.

Pain lanced through my chest, I coughed and drew breath. Turning in surprise she dropped her tray. Above the clatter of spilt medical instruments, I heard her cry:

‘Doctor! He’s alive!’