Flashes of light accompnaied by agony.

Screeches and tearing noises.

Soft warmth, but an enduring ache everywhere.

Slowly the world faded in. Warren woke and tried to take a breath but choked on something in his throat. He tried to move but couldn’t feel his arms. He couldn’t feel anything. The persistent beeping coming from somewhere over his shoulder became more urgent. Stridant.

A nurse appeared in his field of vision, waving a bright light. Warren blinked at the violation of his retinas but couldn’t even shake his head. Just when he thought he was going to pass out again the nurse extracted the tube from his mouth. He drew a deep breath and winced at the pain in his abused airway.

“Thank you,” he croaked. “Where am I?”

At first the nurse didn’t respond, he just took notes on a tablet, checked numbers on the monitoring equipment. When he was done with the machines, he picked up Warren’s hand and dug a thumbnail into the tip of Warren’s pointer finger. “Can you feel that?”

Warren tried to shake his head again, with as much success as before. “No,” he managed to whisper as his throat clenched up. “Please, what’s going on?”

“The doctors will be here presently,” the nurse tucked the small tablet into a pocket in their smock. “They have already been paged. As has your father.” With that, he turned an left the room, leaving Warren quietly freaking out.

Warren tried to sort through what he knew. He remembered being quite drunk at the party and his cousin convincing him to go on a drinks run. Chad had been weirdly insistent on him sitting in the drivers seat with the drinks they picked up on the passenger seat. He couldn’t remember the reasons given though. He did remember the rapidly aproaching headlights at eye level.

After that it was all bright flashes and pain.

A lot of pain.

Warren’s introspection was interrupted by noises in his room. A trio of white coats accompanied his parents in. His mother rushed to his side and picked up his hand. His father stood stoically by the foot of the bed while the doctors wandered about poking monitors, conferring, and looking everywhere but directly at him.

“So you’ve finally joined us in the land of the living,” Warren’s father said gruffly. “Months you’ve been in that bed, scaring your mother. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Shush, honey,” Warren’s mother waved a hand at his father. “Can’t you just be happy he’s awake?”

“I’ll be happier when he’s out of that bed and walking around again,” his father frowned. “He’s costing us a small fortune. You!” he chest poked the nearest white coat. “When can he get out of here?”

The woman glared briefly at the finger before composing herself. “Mr MacGregor. Your son’s spine was separated in four places. We are doing our best, but you have to accept that he may never walk again.”

“His cousin was in the same car and was out of here in two days. What am I paying you for, if not to fix my boy?” His voice was rising and Warren could see his father was working up into one of his famous tirades.

It’ll be “don’t you know who I am” next, Warren thought. Followed by either “I could buy you and this entire place” or “I want to see your boss”. Or both. It’s often both.

Stolen story; please report.

“Don’t you-!” MacGregor started when he was cut off by a cheery face peering in through the door.

“Cuz!” Chad burst into the room, all smiles and enthusiasm. “I was in for a checkup and heard the good news. Mum’s here too, come on in!”

It had been decades since The First Karen had demanded to see The Manager, and some women still built their entire personalities around the blonde bob cut. Warren’s aunt entered the room with a face that suggested she’d just consumed a metric buttload of lemons in the hall. The perfect cat-butt pursing of the lips. The Stepford Wife sunglasses worn inside the building. Worst of all, a spray-tan tone that could only be described as off-Trump. The moment she saw Warren immobile in the bed and surrounded with medical machines, including the most expensive machine in the hospital and one that regularly went “bing”, her countenance brightened into a semblance of joy not seen since the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes.

Warren doubted such an event would be happening here though. He forced his face into a rictus he hoped would be mistaken for a smile and mumbled a greeting. He was in no mood for a family reunion, he just wanted someone to explain what was going on and maybe - when his father was far away and would never find out - a hug from his mother. He drew a small measure of comfort that the interruption had derailed the tantrum train before it had left the station and hoped the doctors would elaborate on the subject of separated spines sometime soon.

“I don’t care how many places my boy’s spine has been separated in. This hospital receives a lion's share of its funding through my company’s donations on top of what I’m paying directly for his treatment,” Warren’s dad wasn’t quite so easily deflected but had at least calmed slightly. Not that having an audience had ever stopped him, quite the opposite most times. At least he wasn’t going to be shouting now. “I know some excellent physicians and top medical scientists who’d be happy to have the opportunity to work their magic here. In fact, I’m going to call your boss and have him talk to my good friend Professor Jackson of the Spinal Research Institute. He was telling me over brandy last week that they have seen promising results with the new series of nano-repair injections.” He swept out of the room, making exaggerated gestures to initiate a call so that everyone knew what he was doing.

“Mum, I just woke up and people started yelling. What the hell is going on and why can’t I move?” Warren demanded now that the oppressive presence of his father no longer dominated the room. “Why is everyone except Chad talking around me and not to me?” He spared his cousin a small genuine smile and tried to nod to him. Chad leaned on the wall and gave him a surfer's wave with the thumb and pinkie sticking out. Chad's mother saw and slapped the hand down, but nothing could slap down Chad's enthusiam.

His mother just smiled wanly and gestured to the nonplussed medical professionals still staring at the doorway. “These nice doctors have been checking you daily since you got in here,” she explained. “When you crashed the car your back was broken in a lot of places, as were your arms, legs and ribs. Now, the rest of your bones are setting well and should heal completely but you severed nerves in the spinal cord. The worst one is the one between the, what did you say?” she called to the doctors. “S something and L something?” When they didn’t pay any attention to her she continued, “about halfway down your back, anyway. But there’s one just above your shoulders too and if they can’t reconnect the nerves you’re never going to be able to move your arms again.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “My baby boy, so full of energy, confined to a bed for the rest of his life.”

“I know,” his aunt moved over to sit on the chair on the opposite side of the bed to his mother. “It’s a tragedy for you. Fortunately Chad has been able to step in and keep things running while Warren is indisposed. Isn’t that nice of him?” Her words seemed sincere, but the tone absolutely did not. “You’ve been doing a great job of keeping the team together haven’t you?”

Chad ducked his head in embarrassment. “Sorry Cuz, but with you in here Coach asked me to step up. We’re killing it in most of our games too, they guys dedicate each win to your name.”

Despite a deep ache beginning to overpower the drugs in his bloodstream, Warren managed a skerrick of joy at that news. He was proud of his guys and rightly so. They’d worked hard for those wins and he couldn’t wait to get back on the field to lead them all the way to the playoffs and maybe even the championships. His brain stuttered then, as he realised what his mother had said. Wait, NEVER MOVE MY ARMS AGAIN!? No. No no no nonononononono.

The thoughts whirled around and around in his head like a dog that had actually managed to catch its tail in its teeth and was now trying to chase the monster that was hurting it. Faster and faster, his pulse rate spiking and the machines beside his bed screaming alerts until his consciousness was suddenly shut off as though someone had thrown a switch and blessed oblivion claimed him.