|When The Angel Falls
Author: StrangeIsNotACrime PM
What happens when a golden heart is stopped. Different POV's and characters. Own nothing apart from the characters I made up. Rated T for themes. RIP Polly Emmerson 3Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 8 - Words: 5,614 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 3 - Updated: 06-23-11 - Published: 06-21-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7104301
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The bright lights of the ED flickered above her as her eyes opened and closed slowly. She could hear voices. Dixie's comforting words telling her she was going to be alright, Jeff's shaky reeling of her pulse, blood pressure and GCS. Words she was so accustomed to hearing, even using herself on a daily basis, yet never said about her, not since she was fifteen.
The crash of the doors to RESUS seemed to echo around the room as faces crowded round her. Polly felt the pure relief as her green paramedic's top and white T-shirt, both drenched in her blood, were cut open, revealing the gaping wound to her chest. She looked over slightly to her left and saw the paleness of Jay's face staring back at her. Polly could almost see her own gaunt reflection in the tears that filled his deep brown eyes. She desperately wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, but she didn't have the strength.
Jay had always been there for her before their break up. Everything he said seemed so real, so true. If he told her something would happen, then it would. She hardly dared to let the barely audible whisper escape her now pale lips.
'Tell me I'm going to be alright..'
Polly waited for a moment, silently begging for his response. Why wasn't he answering? Then again, he didn't need to. The look in his eyes said it all. She was going to die there.
Two years she'd worked in that hospital. Two years she'd watched people die in this very room, in beds exactly like the one she was in now. People dying of cancers, infections, gunshot wounds. Dying of auto immune diseases, overdoses, falls. Stabs wounds like the one she bore now. All these people, and now she was one of them. Dying.
The room had pale blue walls with a deep blue carpet. Posters adorned the walls; Smash Mouth, Bob Dylan, Bette Davis, Marilyn Monroe. A teenage girl sat cross legged on the bed, leaning her head slightly on the wall next to her. She was wearing old baggy jeans with rips in the knees and a faded green t-shirt with a tree on the front. Laid out on front of her were three items. A small bottle of water, a large bottle of paracetamol and a sealed white envelope. Tears streamed down the young, pretty face as she unscrewed the lid to the pills, tipping half of them out into her hand. The girl looked up to the ceiling, swallowed hard, and tipped the handful into her trembling mouth. Hurriedly, she opened the bottle of water and washed them down.
'Pauline? Pauline?' A heavy pair of footsteps pounded up the stairs.
The girl held her breath, praying he'd think she was asleep. There was no way he could find her. If he found her, he'd make her spit them out. He'd make her stay.
The bedroom door flung open. A middle aged man wearing a crisp grey suit stood in the doorway. His grey streaked hair was receding at the front and his dark blue eyes were hard behind his thick glasses. Yet there was a warm feeling behind them, a kindness mixed with the sadness he'd carried around with him for fifteen years. Memories of the woman he'd loved more than anything. The woman who had slipped out of this world fifteen years previously, the same time that the beautiful yet desperate girl on the bed in front of him had slipped in. she seemed to be asleep at first, her blue eyes were shut and she looked peaceful.
The man smiled softly. She looked so much like her mother. The mousy brown hair rested in loose curls around the heart shaped face. Her hands lay lightly across her chest, moving up at down with her gentle breathing. Suddenly, he became aware of a tiny bottle on the cabinet next to her. Painkillers..
'Pauline? No.. No, darling, what have you done?' The man shook his daughter's shoulders roughly. Eventually, her eyes shot open and she looked directly at him before breaking down in tears.
'Dad.. Dad, I've done something stupid..' Her body shook with sobs as she clung to
her father like a small child, burying her face into the collar of the clean grey suit.
Keeping her eyes open was too much of a struggle now. Everything was becoming a blur, just a swarm of faces. Each voice was now no longer distinguishable. All she heard was a faint buzzing noise being the sharp, continuous beep that ricocheted through her head. It was time to let go.
She barely felt the shock of the deliberator through her chest. Mr Jordan's feeble attempts at saving her life. For the first time in her life, she wanted to stop fighting. She was ready to give up.
Let me go Mr Jordan.. Please, just let me go.
'Mr Jordan… That's enough now..'
Jay's voice rang clearly over the buzzing. He knew what she wanted. He knew she didn't want to be in pain anymore. He always knew. She so wanted to sit up, to thank him, to tell him just how much she loved him. But she couldn't. The beeping faded slowly as Polly felt herself falling into the dark abyss that lay beneath her.