Ghost Of You (A Novella)

Chapter Fourteen (REWRITTEN)

Avery had never seen a coma patient before. She didn't know what to expect, but never in a million years would she have imagined this.

"Since I am here, I need to flip him, if you don't mind helping?" Julie chewed her lip, looking to Avery but not really seeing her. "We want to rotate coma patients every two hours. It prevents bed sores," she added, noticing the apprehension on the young woman's face. "We're just going to lay him on his back. You take his legs, and I'll pull his torso." Sebastain's mother began tucking the blankets tightly around his thighs. "So just, grab the far side and roll on the count of three, okay?

At a loss, Avery began wringing her hands. Julie was putting way too much trust in her. She didn't have the experience of doing such a task and that alone made her nervous but what really set her panic ablaze was the fact that this was Julie's child. This was personal on a very deep level. She worried about all the things that could go wrong—the kid's body looked so frail, what if she hurt him by applying too much pressure? What if she used too little while Julie used just enough and then his spine was twisted? Did he have a spinal injury? She didn't want to make it worse, especially on her first day and definitely not on her boss's son. "W-what if I hurt him?" To her, he was glass and she didn't want to be the wrecking ball that destroyed him completely.

"Oh, sweetie." Julie grasped the girl's fidgeting hands. "You won't, I promise. Besides, it's a head injury and you won't be anywhere near that part of him."

Not wanting to give any kind of negative impression on her first day and yet still prove herself as worthy of her new position, she agreed, though half-heartedly. Standing behind the patient, Julie positioned so that her arms reached around to the tucked blanket in front of his legs, "When I say three, you just roll."

"One."

I don't want to do this.

"Two."

I really don't want to do this!

"Three!"

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod!

Slamming her eyes shut, she grabbed his legs and pulled, praying he wouldn't break beneath her. An unsure squeal leaked between her grinding teeth. She struggled to keep her balance as the weight of his body rolled with her. And she did not open those eyes until she heard Julie chirp, "You did it! Good job, Avery."

Now laying on his back, she could better view his predicament. Strapped around the back of his head, a thick, blue tube was coming out of his mouth. She followed the path back to, what she assumed, was the ventilator used to keep air in his lungs and blood pumping through his veins. She hadn't originally paid attention to the hissing sound it emitted every time the panel would rise and fall within the cylinder, but now she wondered how she couldn't have. It was louder than the beeping monitor beside him.

Multiple sensors were attached to his chest, connecting into one clump before disappearing into the screen that recorded his blood pressure. A long, thin line had been inserted into his nose, held in place by the medical tape alone and his finger sported a plastic clamp, meant to keep track of his heart rate.

Gently, Julie ran her fingers through the loose, brown curls that sat on top of his head like a mop. "He needs a haircut pretty badly, huh?" She mused. "'Bastian, this is Avery."

But Avery didn't hear her over the thunderous sound of her racing heart. Thump-thump-thump, it pounded—through her chest, through her head. Her brain was working overtime trying to comprehend the familiarity of the boy she was staring at. The only reason she was still breathing through ragged gasps was because her body required it.