The content in this Chronicle and on this website is intended for adults, 18 years and older.
An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle
“Oh, shit,” Trevor mumbled weakly, as he stood there in the crowded emergency room watching as the doctor slowly inserted the needle into Mikey’s arm to numb it so that he could stitch up the gash that was going to get him killed.
“That is so freaking cool,” Sebastian said, looking intrigued as he sat by Mikey’s side, holding her other hand, and looking like he was having the best time of his like while Mikey…
Was still not talking, which he was actually okay with since it meant that she wasn’t crying or screaming hysterically anymore. God, what the fuck had he been thinking when he’d suggested taking the kids to a baseball game instead of hitting that buffet? he couldn’t help but wonder as he rubbed his hands roughly down his face even as he couldn’t help but wonder who was going to kill him first for this, Kasey or Reese.
He really hoped it was Reese, because something told him that Kasey would rip his balls off and shove them down his throat before she-
“What the hell happened?” Reese demanded, as Trevor dropped his hands away even as he tried to figure that out.
One minute, he’d been trying to get the hot dog vender’s attention for Mikey and the next…
Mikey was passing out.
Kind of like now.
“Son of a bitch!” he snapped right along with his cousin as the two of them leapt forward to grab the little girl before she fell off the bed, but Sebastian beat them to it by wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back towards the bed where she managed to pass out in peace, which was probably for the best since watching her father kill him would have probably scarred her for life.
“She’s okay,” the doctor said, as he quickly handed the syringe off to a nurse standing by and stood up so that he could check on Mikey.
“What the hell happened?” Reese demanded, as he pushed the doctor aside and checked on his little girl while Trevor moved to the other side of the bed to make sure that she was okay.
“I don’t-” he started to say only to be taken by surprise by his son.
“She tried to catch the ball by leaning too far over the seat in front of us, it bounced off her hand, she slipped, cut herself on the bottom of the chair and the jerk in front of us took the ball,” his son said with a shrug before adding, “and I already took care of him and got the ball back for her, but if anyone asks I never left your side.”
Having absolutely no idea what to say to that, Trevor settled for a nod and a, “Alright then,” deciding that some things were better left alone. That belief was strengthened seconds later when a familiar looking man wearing a Paw Sox tee shirt was rolled into the emergency room, lying in the fetal position, sobbing and asking for his mommy.
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