Personal Narrative-Home

After being escorted by the police to the hospital me and Ponyboy dashed with excitement to Johnny’s room. Before we could get even an inch in the door the doctor stopped us in our tracks. The doctor said “he is dying”. Before I could think I pulled out two-bit's switchblade. I wasn't going to let some punk doctor keep me from seeing my friend. Instead of what I thought the doctor was going to do he let us see Johnny.

I remembered Johnny—his face all cut up and bruised, and I remembered how he had cried when we found him, half- conscious, in the corner lot.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Habersham County, Tom was feeling slightly nervous as he exited the staff lounge and entered the hustle and bustle of County Hospital’s ER to begin his first shift as an RN. The first few hours of his shift passed slowly as Tom mostly checked vital signs and listened to patients complain about various aches, pains, coughs, and sniffles. He realized that the attending physician, Dr. Greene, who was rather “old school” in general about how he interacted with nursing staff, wanted to start him out slowly. Tom knew, though, that the paramedics could bring in a trauma patient at any time.

John leaves the hospital, and catches a cab to 221.B. When he hears the sounds of muffled groaning coming from behind the door. "Sherlock?" John calls.

That still body back in the hospital wasn’t Johnny. Johnny was somewhere else- maybe asleep in the lot, or playing pinball machine in the bowling alley, or sitting on the back steps of the church in Windrixville. I’d go home and walk by the lot, and Johnny would be sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette, and maybe we’d lie on our backs and watch the stars. He isn’t dead, I said to myself. He isn’t

Derek screams while thrusting himself into a sitting position in the uncomfortable hospital bed, and the pain which he felt earlier commenced. A nurse ran in and began checking Derek’s vitals making sure that his body wasn't in shock or shutting down. “Your fine,” the nurse with bags under her gray eyes stated. “Don’t yell unless you are dying.”

"It's OK, Wally. You're going to be OK. I promise. That bastard will come no where near you ever again. Not while I am around. No one will let him near you." When Wally continued to look doubtful, Roy continued. "I know what's going through your head. You can stay here as long as you need. You don't have to go back there. And Barry and Iris will be back soon. It'll all be OK." He hesitated a moment before he stood up and wrapped his arms around the still trembling younger redhead. "Things will be OK."

Sighing, Joe took off his glasses and looked around the family who had taken in Johnny, unsure how long he would remain a child. He had hoped to give them better news than this, but he knew they deserved to

“What happened?” the doctor asked. In response, she motioned her hand back and forth. Nodding, the doctor gently examined the wound, careful to not induce additional pain.

"He… He just got so angry and he started throwing things and then… then he got a hold of me and I tried to get him to st-top. Everything hurts so much Roy."

“We need you to be safe at the moment, get some rest. Besides, you need those frostbit blotches on your face checked on.” It took Turner an immense amount of strength to even stand. He knew they were correct.

“How you feeling Johnny? I’m nervous as I’ll get out, but if we stick together we should be all right.”

"You fractured your hip and your right shoulder. There are also numerous lacerations on your torso" , Preco finally began to speak.

“I heard that you two know that your Uncle Johnny was hurt at work,” Joe began.

“You must have fallen and hit your head. Are you ok? We need to make sure your heads all right, you’re saying