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Et laangt fall!
Crash! Smashing glass, gusts of wind, and the sound of cars honking. Everything flickered, went as blurs, falling so quickly that tears appeared in his eyes. The only thing that remained focused was the ground, which only came closer.
A figure was falling freely through the November cold air, the wind playing with his short, almond coloured hair. His life did not flash before his eyes, as it often did during those cliché-like movies; he knew he was going to die, and most surely painfully too. A single memory flashed, though. His newly born baby boy appeared before his eyes. A longing manifested in him; the thought that he'd never see him grow up passed. He shielded his face with his right arm; readying himself for the impact. The ground which only came closer and closer, fear spread in him, fear of what would come when he splattered. Tears trickling down his cheeks, he hit the ground, right arm first, unimaginable pain jolting through his shoulder, and the right side of his body. Bones broke, crushed, loud noises were heard, people gasped. Blood splattered. “Someone call nine-one-one!” A voice exclaimed. Everything went dark.
Rodney Jerkins screamed at the top of his lounges, emerging from deep slumber. He sat up from the hospital bed that he laid in, looking around at the strange, unknown room that he now was in. Fluorescent lights illuminated the small, white-painted room where he laid. A bed, a chair, a nightstand, a TV on the wall and a dozen of complicated instruments was cramped into the room. A nurse rushed in, running up to his bed, forcing Rodney back to laying down. First then, he noticed the many needles and transparent cables that were surrounding him. Bandages engrossed his whole body, with red stain spread on all of them. The nurse muttered to herself inaudibly, Rodney’s eyes rested on her, rather quizzically.
“Why am I here?” His voice was extremely hoarse, his throat dry, and speaking introduced such agony in his bowels; as knives lay resting in his gut. The nurse froze, her eyes fixated on Rodney. She sighed, checked the several needles in his body, making sure that everything was in place before she spoke.
”You’ve been victim of an accident.” She said it as it didn’t matter, as it wasn’t of any importance, at all.
Bits of memories returned, flashed before his eyes, memories that didn’t seem to belong to him. But, reality hit him, and everything, from falling freely down 212 floors and hitting the ground in one big splat returned.
“You were quite lucky, surviving such a fall! I’ve never seen anything like it.” A miniature smile appeared on the nurse’s face, whom had been ravaged quite much by time.
”I fell…” The words escaped his lips gently, like a whisper.
“Yes… Two hundred and twelve floors… We tried hard to figure out how you survived. Eventually, we found out. Your body was severely damaged, mostly on one side. Your shoulder was crushed; the bones in your arm broken in several pieces, and your right hand side received severe damages. The friction that was created between your body and the asphalt as you hit the ground equalled in fourth-degree burns. But, your arm took the fall. That’s the reason you’re still alive today. Or so we believe. You’ve probably lost most of your right arms ability to move properly. We’re still wondering whether we should amputate your arm, as it will be to no good to just keep it there.” A single tear trickled down her red, full, apple-cheek. She’d become used to see patients come and go; she practically lived in the intensive at the hospital.
“You’re a fighter, Mr. Jerkins. You were lucky, but you fought through! Heck, we didn’t even think you were going to come out of the coma!”
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Obs! Meldinger som ikke omhandler oppgavens innhold slettes. Det samme gjelder meldinger uten stor grad av saklighet.