Laurel laid in her stiff hospital bed and stared down at her legs. They were plated, screwed, and casted, but she still had them and was willing to go through any surgery or physical therapy as long as she could walk again. The doctors were as yet unsure if she would walk again, but her odds were fairly good. It could have been a lot worse, as she was repeatedly told. She knew it. She could be dead. Laurel had not seen the mad who'd saved her since the emergency crews arrived and sped them both away. She hoped she would have a chance to see him again, to thank him again. She didn't even know his name. If he didn't find her, she would probably never get the chance to make sure he knew how grateful she was.
The doctor came in then, interrupting her thoughts. "Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling?"
Laurel cleared her throat and tried to answer clearly, but the smoke had irritated her throat and made her raspy and hoarse. "Alright. I hurt all over."
"We can give you some more morphine for that. Do you remember everything that happened?"
Laurel rubbed her forehead with the heal of her hand. Her head was throbbing. "Yes," she answered sadly. She wished she didn't remember anything. "Do the police know what happened?"
The doctor was writing on his clipboard and didn't look up as he answered, "I don't know. I'm not the one to ask about that. You'll have to talk to an officer yourself."
Laurel frowned. "Okay." She paused. "The man...the man that pulled me from the building...is he okay?"
"Mr. Searly? Yes, he's fine. In fact we discharged him this morning."
"He left the hospital?"
"Yes, he went home."
"And he didn't---"
"Yes?" the doctor asked when Laurel didn't finish her sentence.
"Never mind." She had been hoping he would come see her. Did he not care to see how she was doing? Saved her life and disappeared. It was like the movies, the mysterious hero riding off into the sunset without as much as a nod goodbye. Oh well. He knew she was grateful. If he didn't want to see her again, she could live with that.
The months passed slowly as Laurel attempted to get around with, first a wheelchair, then crutches. Her roommate was forced to take her everywhere, help her with everything. But Cassidy was a good friend and didn't complain, especially when she thought about what could have happened to her best friend. "I can't believe you almost DIED! I don't know how I could have lived without you! And your beautiful legs! Crushed! Thank goodness that man pulled you out! I wonder who he is. Was he hot? Did you thank him? I hope you thanked him! He did save your life, Laurel."
Jay called her the second he found out and kept calling, no matter how she discouraged him. "I'm so glad you didn't die, Laurel! What a scary thing to have happen. I do feel bad for all those other people, but I'm so glad you weren't as unlucky. When are you coming home? I love you, baby! Why won't you let me help you get through this?"
"Because we're over Jay! I need you to stop calling me. I'm not going to come home and I don't want you to come here. Ever."
"Come on, Laurel. You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do. I'm fine now. So leave me alone."
The police found the fire had been started by an arsonist. They still didn't know who, or how the building collapsed, but they assumed since someone started the fire, someone must have demolished the building.
Laurel looked down at her legs, rubbing the dry skin that had been under the casts for so long. She rolled her ankles, bent her knees. Laurel frowned at the scars that now lined her shins and calves. They were so ugly, revolting reminders of her near death experience. She hoped they would fade quickly, but knew they'd never fully disappear. Laurel swung her legs to the side of the couch and placed her feet on the carpet. Slowly, she stood. Her casts had been removed weeks ago, but she still had trouble moving. She felt like a ninety-year-old woman when she walked around and still made Cassidy do everything for her, embarrassed to leave the house when she could only shuffle.
Cassidy was at the grocery store, getting more painkillers and toilet paper when someone knocked on their apartment door. Laurel groaned and tried to walk towards the front door, clinging to furniture as she moved. She made it to the door exhausted and out of breath, but quickly composing herself and smoothing her unwashed hair, she opened the door. Her smile suddenly fell from her face and her jaw dropped.
The man smiled at her and extended his hand. "Hey. I'm Reed Searly. It's nice to officially meet you. Laurel, is it?"
Wow, Kristin, this is a great story. I love the premiss of a hero saving the girl then disappearing without being thanked. Its kind of every girls dream, without the injury of course. lol. I went back and read the other chapters to catch up with what's current, and I'm glad I did. Now I know its also a mystery. Who is the arsonist and how did he blow the building up? Pretty cold-hearted dude.
ReplyDeleteJust a note . . . if you have any intentions of submitting this manuscript to a publisher someday, having it on a blog viewable to anybody will destroy their willingness to accept it. Its almost public domain stuff right now. I know some people put up their first chapter to lure people to buy their books, which I think is a good idea, and even put up a novella with the same kind of "lure" tactic to advertise another book. I really like this story.
Question, do you go by Kristin or by Jory?
Thank you! Finally some feedback! I don't know if I'd ever submit this exact story. Maybe if it turns out well. I just didn't know how else to share what I've done. Are you suggesting to just make it available to certain people? Because you do have a good point. Part of me feels like if I don't have something to post my writing to, I'll never write. It's hard for me to find time in my busy college life and having a blog that people expect me to update makes it a little easier to force myself to write. Do you have any other suggestions?
ReplyDeleteMy name is Kristin, but Jory Curtis is supposed to be my pen name, for now. I discovered that pen names are REALLY hard to come up with.
Again, thanks for the feedback! Gimme more!
I do have a suggestion. Get a writing buddy to trade chapters with. I only share my writing (what I want to eventually publish) with someone who will critique it and give me feedback on how to make my writing better. I do have a blog, too, but I don't put my stories on it. I read that literary agents and publishers won't touch stories that have been placed on blogs or websites, so they will check out your sites before offering to represent you or your work. FYI. So, my suggestion is that you use your blog for other than your manuscripts. You can write about writing, subjects that deal with techniques or the world of writing, or kind of like a diary of your routine or your college life, or keep going with this story but keep in mind that it will be unpublishable except as a self-published item, which is what you're really doing by having it on your blog. You see? Its like an e-book a chapter at a time, right?
ReplyDeleteI can see that you're not far enough into this story for it to ruin your chances of getting it publish, so think about it before you upload anymore. If you want more critiquing, then you can send them to me and I'll critique them, if you'd like, and then send them back. But you'd have to be prepared for my yellow highlighting and blue suggestions and red deleting. Its just a thought. Don't feel like you have to do it. I understand that being in college writing can be slow and can even take a back seat for a while. That's okay. If its in your heart, you'll find time along the way in your life. Don't fret.