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Creative Writing: Blood Brothers

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As Ethan’s focus fell back to Mrs Beauchamp, he could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smirk vanish from her face. “Can we get five of morphine and a litre of saline to start, please,” said Mrs Beauchamp, and Lofty set to work administering it all. By the time he had finished, Ethan was already feeling considerably more relaxed. He’d always found morphine a bit weird – the way it did that – but if it kept his pain rolled blunt he didn’t have any complaints about it. When he next opened his eyes, Mrs Beauchamp’s smirk seemed to be back. “I’m going to start examining you now, okay?” said Mrs Beauchamp. “Sure,” said Ethan, and then – “yes, I mean. Yes, that’s fine.” Somewhere above him, Ethan saw Cal’s lips become stretched and very thin. …show more content…

Cal was rooting around in his bag, his eyes bright with… something – Ethan couldn’t think about much in his state. It didn’t look like anything Ethan wanted to be a part of, though. He blinked back at Mrs Beauchamp, whose entire face seemed to be under strain for supressing a smile. “Can we not take films of NHS Staff without their permission, please, Dr Knight,” said Mrs Beauchamp, clocking the phone in Cal’s …show more content…

He was, once again, exposed and vulnerable as if he had been cut from wet clothes before it had stopped raining. “Do you feel sick?” said Lofty. Ethan scrunched his eyes up. “What?” “Do we need to have a bowl ready in case you throw up?” Ethan thought for a moment. Yes, there were still ripples of nausea behind the sheet of morphine, but from where he was – still and lying down – he didn’t think there was much risk. Besides, he didn’t want the embarrassment of making a big fuss over a bowl and then not even needing it. “No,” he moaned, and turned his head to the side. It was the wrong side. He came face to face with Cal, whose smirk had returned. He turned his head before Cal could say anything and pretending he didn’t hear the trademark snort behind him. He closed his eyes and hoped that Lofty wasn’t smiling behind him too. He came into awareness to the uncomfortable undulation of something under him. He pushed down on his wrist, expecting to feel a band of fabric. Instead, he found thin plastic. He frowned and blinked his eyes open to white walls. This was not a boat. He turned his head upwards to see a porter – it was someone he knew, he could tell that much – grinning down at him. Everything was a bit

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