Post by justice on Nov 1, 2023 16:49:09 GMT -8
The sterile, fluorescent-lit emergency room bustled with activity as the nightshift staff worked diligently to attend to the steady influx of patients. Justice Cross lay unconscious on a gurney, hidden from view by a drawn curtain. Her usually confident demeanor had been shattered the previous night at 1WM's Legendary event, where a devastating blow to the head had left her in this dire state. Her world had darkened to nothing more than fragmented memories and throbbing pain.
Dr. Emily Harris, a skilled physician with a no-nonsense attitude, stepped up to Justice's gurney, holding her medical chart. She was flanked by two nurses, each carrying an assortment of equipment for neurological assessments. They wore matching expressions of concern as they prepared to evaluate the renowned wrestler.
"Alright, let's begin the concussion protocols," Dr. Harris instructed, her voice calm yet authoritative. The team checked her vital signs, ensuring that Justice's condition remained stable. Her heart monitor beeped steadily, and her breathing, though shallow, was consistent.
As the doctor conducted a brief physical examination, she gently pressed her gloved fingers against Justice's eyelids, checking for any signs of responsiveness. Justice's eyelashes fluttered, a faint sign of life, but she remained unresponsive. The doctor nodded to the nurses, indicating that they should proceed with the next step.
One nurse began testing Justice's pupils, shining a penlight into each eye and noting the reaction. The other nurse started asking questions to assess her cognitive function. "Justice, can you hear me? Blink if you can," she said, her voice gentle yet firm.
Justice's eyelids fluttered again, and she managed a slow blink, as if struggling to surface from the depths of unconsciousness.
Dr. Harris recorded the responses in the chart. "Good sign, but she's still disoriented. Let's keep going. We'll need to monitor her closely for the next twenty-four hours."
The team continued to evaluate Justice's condition, carefully documenting each step. Hours passed, and the medical staff observed signs of improvement as Justice began to regain consciousness. She occasionally muttered incoherent words and moved her limbs, albeit weakly.
The following evening, after a day of meticulous observation, Justice's husband, Anthony Cross, known to fans as "Enforcer," arrived at the hospital. He had been waiting anxiously for any news regarding his wife's condition. The moment he had feared most had finally come.
Anthony was a towering figure, known for his imposing presence in the ring, but today he was a man consumed by worry and fear. He entered the room where Justice was being monitored, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. The soft beep of machines and the rustling of the curtain greeted him as he approached her bedside.
There, lying in the hospital bed, was Justice Cross, her eyes half-open and filled with confusion. Her gaze wandered, lost in the unfamiliar surroundings. She looked fragile and disoriented, a stark contrast to the fierce wrestler that had captured the hearts of fans.
Anthony's heart ached as he gazed upon his wife, and he took a moment to compose himself before speaking.
Anthony: Justice, it's me, Anthony. I'm here.
His voice choked with emotion as he spoke.
Justice turned her head towards the sound of his voice, her expression one of mixed recognition and bewilderment. She struggled to piece together the fragments of her memories, searching for clarity. Slowly, a faint smile crept across her face, her eyes filling with tears as she whispered.
Justice: Anthony?
Sitting beside Justice's hospital bed, Anthony held her hand, concern etched across his rugged face. Justice's eyes were still clouded with confusion as she turned her attention toward her husband.
Justice softly spoke, her voice weak, "Anthony, what happened? Why am I here?"
Anthony hesitated for a moment, his eyes locked on his wife's, searching for the right words. "You showed up last night at 1WM's Legendary. You took a nasty hit to the head," he began, his voice gentle but somber. "They brought you here to the hospital for observation, concussion protocols and all that."
Justice blinked slowly, processing the information. She raised her hand to her bandaged head, wincing as her fingers grazed the tender area. "I don't remember... I don't remember much of anything," she admitted, her voice tinged with worry.
Anthony nodded understandingly, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "It'll come back to you, don't worry. You need to stay here for at least a little while, though, to make sure you're okay."
Justice's brow furrowed, and she began to look agitated. "I can't stay here. I have obligations, matches to prepare for..."
Anthony interrupted gently, "Justice, listen to me. You have to stay. It's important for your health."
Justice's frustration escalated as she tried to sit up in bed. "No, Anthony, I can't just lie here! Wrestling is my life; I can't let it all fall apart."
Anthony's expression grew serious, and he leaned in closer, his tone firm but caring. "Justice, there's more. I need you to listen carefully. Our son was at Legendary last night, and he saw what happened to you."
Justice's eyes widened in shock and concern. "Our son? Oh God, what did he see?"
Anthony hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "He saw you being attacked in a way that he's never seen before. He was terrified, Justice."
Tears welled up in Justice's eyes, and she clutched Anthony's hand tightly. "I... I didn't want him to see that. I didn't want him to see me like that."
Anthony nodded, his grip on her hand steady and reassuring. "I know you didn't, but this is a wake-up call, Justice. You've been changing lately, and not for the better. You attacked another wrestler in almost the same manner last month. This isn't who you are, and it's not the example you want to set for our son."
Justice's tears fell freely now, and she looked down at her lap, overcome with emotion. "I don't know what's happening to me, Anthony. I've lost sight of myself."
Anthony leaned in, his voice tender and filled with love. "You're still in there, Justice. We'll figure this out together, but you need to get better first, for yourself and for our family."
Justice nodded, her resolve strengthening. "You're right, Anthony. I need to change, not just for me, but for all of us. I'm so sorry for everything."
Anthony smiled softly, brushing a tear from her cheek. "We'll get through this together, I promise. The first step is taking care of yourself, and the rest will follow."
As Justice lay back in her hospital bed, her husband by her side, they both knew that this would be a turning point in their lives. It was a moment of self-reflection and change, and Justice was determined to heal, not only physically but also as a person and a mother.
Dr. Emily Harris, a skilled physician with a no-nonsense attitude, stepped up to Justice's gurney, holding her medical chart. She was flanked by two nurses, each carrying an assortment of equipment for neurological assessments. They wore matching expressions of concern as they prepared to evaluate the renowned wrestler.
"Alright, let's begin the concussion protocols," Dr. Harris instructed, her voice calm yet authoritative. The team checked her vital signs, ensuring that Justice's condition remained stable. Her heart monitor beeped steadily, and her breathing, though shallow, was consistent.
As the doctor conducted a brief physical examination, she gently pressed her gloved fingers against Justice's eyelids, checking for any signs of responsiveness. Justice's eyelashes fluttered, a faint sign of life, but she remained unresponsive. The doctor nodded to the nurses, indicating that they should proceed with the next step.
One nurse began testing Justice's pupils, shining a penlight into each eye and noting the reaction. The other nurse started asking questions to assess her cognitive function. "Justice, can you hear me? Blink if you can," she said, her voice gentle yet firm.
Justice's eyelids fluttered again, and she managed a slow blink, as if struggling to surface from the depths of unconsciousness.
Dr. Harris recorded the responses in the chart. "Good sign, but she's still disoriented. Let's keep going. We'll need to monitor her closely for the next twenty-four hours."
The team continued to evaluate Justice's condition, carefully documenting each step. Hours passed, and the medical staff observed signs of improvement as Justice began to regain consciousness. She occasionally muttered incoherent words and moved her limbs, albeit weakly.
The following evening, after a day of meticulous observation, Justice's husband, Anthony Cross, known to fans as "Enforcer," arrived at the hospital. He had been waiting anxiously for any news regarding his wife's condition. The moment he had feared most had finally come.
Anthony was a towering figure, known for his imposing presence in the ring, but today he was a man consumed by worry and fear. He entered the room where Justice was being monitored, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. The soft beep of machines and the rustling of the curtain greeted him as he approached her bedside.
There, lying in the hospital bed, was Justice Cross, her eyes half-open and filled with confusion. Her gaze wandered, lost in the unfamiliar surroundings. She looked fragile and disoriented, a stark contrast to the fierce wrestler that had captured the hearts of fans.
Anthony's heart ached as he gazed upon his wife, and he took a moment to compose himself before speaking.
Anthony: Justice, it's me, Anthony. I'm here.
His voice choked with emotion as he spoke.
Justice turned her head towards the sound of his voice, her expression one of mixed recognition and bewilderment. She struggled to piece together the fragments of her memories, searching for clarity. Slowly, a faint smile crept across her face, her eyes filling with tears as she whispered.
Justice: Anthony?
Sitting beside Justice's hospital bed, Anthony held her hand, concern etched across his rugged face. Justice's eyes were still clouded with confusion as she turned her attention toward her husband.
Justice softly spoke, her voice weak, "Anthony, what happened? Why am I here?"
Anthony hesitated for a moment, his eyes locked on his wife's, searching for the right words. "You showed up last night at 1WM's Legendary. You took a nasty hit to the head," he began, his voice gentle but somber. "They brought you here to the hospital for observation, concussion protocols and all that."
Justice blinked slowly, processing the information. She raised her hand to her bandaged head, wincing as her fingers grazed the tender area. "I don't remember... I don't remember much of anything," she admitted, her voice tinged with worry.
Anthony nodded understandingly, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "It'll come back to you, don't worry. You need to stay here for at least a little while, though, to make sure you're okay."
Justice's brow furrowed, and she began to look agitated. "I can't stay here. I have obligations, matches to prepare for..."
Anthony interrupted gently, "Justice, listen to me. You have to stay. It's important for your health."
Justice's frustration escalated as she tried to sit up in bed. "No, Anthony, I can't just lie here! Wrestling is my life; I can't let it all fall apart."
Anthony's expression grew serious, and he leaned in closer, his tone firm but caring. "Justice, there's more. I need you to listen carefully. Our son was at Legendary last night, and he saw what happened to you."
Justice's eyes widened in shock and concern. "Our son? Oh God, what did he see?"
Anthony hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "He saw you being attacked in a way that he's never seen before. He was terrified, Justice."
Tears welled up in Justice's eyes, and she clutched Anthony's hand tightly. "I... I didn't want him to see that. I didn't want him to see me like that."
Anthony nodded, his grip on her hand steady and reassuring. "I know you didn't, but this is a wake-up call, Justice. You've been changing lately, and not for the better. You attacked another wrestler in almost the same manner last month. This isn't who you are, and it's not the example you want to set for our son."
Justice's tears fell freely now, and she looked down at her lap, overcome with emotion. "I don't know what's happening to me, Anthony. I've lost sight of myself."
Anthony leaned in, his voice tender and filled with love. "You're still in there, Justice. We'll figure this out together, but you need to get better first, for yourself and for our family."
Justice nodded, her resolve strengthening. "You're right, Anthony. I need to change, not just for me, but for all of us. I'm so sorry for everything."
Anthony smiled softly, brushing a tear from her cheek. "We'll get through this together, I promise. The first step is taking care of yourself, and the rest will follow."
As Justice lay back in her hospital bed, her husband by her side, they both knew that this would be a turning point in their lives. It was a moment of self-reflection and change, and Justice was determined to heal, not only physically but also as a person and a mother.