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| A nice sleep. Then a nice accumulator! |
The man felt like he'd been hit by a lorry. He open his eyes with much effort and a blurry white room greeted him. Faces he didn't recognise stared down and asked questions too loud. Closing his eyes again, he welcomed the peace the dark brought. The voices faded away. He slept for what could have been days, or months, or years.
When he awoke again, this time he remembered how he'd ended up here. He had been hit by a lorry. Only it hadn't been a lorry, actually, but an ambulance. That had been his umpteenth bad call of the evening. He made a mental note: when trying to do one's self in, a vehicle kitted out with life-saving gear and paramedics is probably not the ideal one to jump in front of. He remembered his mate joking about how funny it'd be to be run over by an ambulance. Well, his broken back and splintered legs begged otherwise right now.
A man in a brown elbow-patched jacked asked him questions in a voice so soft he wanted to touch it. His beard was full, and though his skin was pale, he reminded the patient of Socrates, the great Brazilian footballer. Thay guy had pretty much signed his own death warrant too, what with the smoking and drinking. At least he'd left a legacy.
The psychiatrist was friendly and the his visits were the only bright point in the man's day. His wife had visited at first, but perhaps she'd given up when she realised he was going to pull through. They had enough problems in their relationship without a wheelchair being one of them. He didn't ask about her any more.
After a month in the same bed, the man was moved to a ward for less serious cases. Some of the folk in here were a right state, crushed skulls, missing multiple limbs, the lot. Still, they hung around a bit longer than those in his previous ward. It was much more relaxing in here. Socrates came in and asked some general questions about how the man was feeling, what his plans were once he got out, all that kind of stuff. Truth be told, he didn't have a plan.
"I bet you can be in a secure job, a new place and a new woman within six months," said Socrates.
"Wanna put a tenner on it?"
Socrates sighed, and made a quick note on his clipboard. There was still a lot more work to be done here.
*
No links to evil betting sites this time, just a plain old story. Sorry.
