Losers Can't Be Choosers

Chapter 10 - It Hurts Like Hell

"Fuck, it hurts!" Clarissa shouted from the top of her lungs.

Sitting next to her in the ambulance, bloodshot eyes hanging low, was a mortified daughter who should have never played with fire. She held on to her mother's left hand so tightly she could break her in two. Perhaps the older woman was complaining about that, too. As for Jonah and Gail, they were trailing right behind, with the gymnast driving the secretary's car while trying to dodge her viperine tongue.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so terribly sorry," the hypnotherapist mumbled, each sentence escalating the one that came before. Not that her excuses could do anything about the bullet lodged in her mother's chest. It was a natural response to the absurdity of the whole situation, yet another misfortune brought about by her own hands.

It was becoming a dangerous trend. Plans often backfire but she had never lost control of situations so often in such a short time. First Jonah, then Gail, now her mother. Perhaps it was time to listen to the Universe once and for all and put an end to things.

"Am I going to die?" Clarissa muttered, in a somewhat delusional state. "No, this can't be it, right?"

"No one is going to die," one of the paramedics inside the ambulance reassured her. It was a young slender man, no more than twenty-five years old, his face highlighted by soft freckles. He had a calm and soothing voice, a trait of experience despite being so young. He also looked familiar, somehow. "It looks more serious than it is, don't worry."

"Tell that to the pain I'm feeling! Oh fuck! Why did you had that in the house, Angie?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Angela screeched, on the verge of tears.

"Drugs," Clarissa continued. "I need more drugs to keep the pain away."

"What you need right now is to stay calm," the paramedic smiled. "We've done all we can for now and we're almost at the hospital. After the surgery, you'll be as good as new."

"You don't understand, I need more drugs right now!"

"Can't you give her anything else?" Angela pleaded.

"No. Given her age, we can't risk it. Her body may go into shock if we up the dosage."

"But she's already in shock!"

"I understand how stressful this is but you have to trust us."

The other paramedic in the vehicle, an older woman with dark gray hair and a butterfly tattoo on the back of her right arm, nodded. Unlike her co-worker, she was the silent type that liked to get things done. She was also on the final stretch of a 48-hour shift and the screams of their latest patient were not what her headache prescribed.

"Angela, do something!"

"Do what, mom?"

"Hypnotize me, put me in a trance right now. I've read that it can help with the pain, right?"

"Yes, hypnosis can be used for that but I don't think..."

"Are you a therapist?" The young paramedic asked.

"Yes. I have an office down by..."

"Can you do it or not?" Clarissa begged, sharp nails piercing her daughter's wrist. "Please!"

"Look, I know this is an unusual request but do you think I...?"

"I've been hypnotized a few times before and didn't like it," the paramedic continued. "You're right, it's not something you get asked every day but if it helps to calm your mother, we won't tell a soul. Just keep your voice down, please. You don't want to accidentally put our driver under."

"Oh, thank you, thank you. Hit me, Angela. Don't shoot me again, just hit me." Clarissa sighed with relief.

Angela moistened her lips as she considered what type of induction to use. It had to be something simple, relaxation with a bit of confusion thrown in. Perhaps an object of fixation was in order too if she could get her mother to focus on something else other than the amalgam of copper, lead, and steel inside her. Hmmm... where to begin?

"How was your day before you came to see us, mom?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Just because... we haven't really had the chance to talk straight, right? So tell me... was it warm and relaxing? Were you having fun before I called you over?"

"Yes... I was. I was reading a book."

"What was it all about?"

"It was about hypnosis, actually."

"I can't read books about hypnosis anymore. I find them so engrossing, so riveting from start to finish even if they're really not. When I think about hypnosis, I start to feeling drowsy, droopy... when I read about hypnosis, the words almost jump out of the book straight into my eyes. Big words, small words, comforting words, words I can remember so well even though it's easier to forget, words I love more than anything coming to life. Of course, this is true of all books and not just hypnotic ones. Story books, fairytales, horror short stories... so many emotions printed against the sheet, emotions you let yourself sink into... I love words. Do you have a favorite word, mom?"

"No," Clarissa blinked. "I don't think I..." Her grip loosened. A frantic horn echoed outside, the dissonant sound threatening to drown Angela's deliberate induction.

"Really? I have so many, far too many to number. My favorite words often come together. Sometimes, they're three like in 'I Love You', sometimes, they're just two like in 'Trust Me', sometimes, it's a solitary one like 'Mom'. But the beauty of three, two, one, is that it can also be one, two, three. Think about it. 'I Love You, Trust Me, Mom' can also be spoken as 'Mom, Trust Me, I Love You', or if you want to shake things up, you can say 'Trust Me, Mom, I Love You' or 'I Love You, Mom, Trust Me'. Three, two, one is the same as one, two, three, and the same as three, one, two, or two, one, three. The order of progression is irrelevant because the meaning remains always the same and you can always grasp it no matter how many times you hear it said to you. Both meanings and feelings remain, a constant that makes sense, just like what I've been telling you makes sense. Words make more sense when they're spoken out loud and even more when they're heard by an agreeable, yet inquisitive mind. That's the right way to describe yours, isn't it? You're curious, you like to experiment, you like to live other lives through words and the characters you portray on screen or up on the stage. Each word you're given to memorize, each line of the characters you inhabit, becomes a part of you even if only for a bit, a part of you that can be reawakened when the memory is strong. The stronger the words, the stronger the memories, the stronger the memories, the stronger the emotions associated within. You love strong memories, and strong memories love you, too. You trust strong memories and strong memories trust you, too. What's the strongest memory you can think of right now? Tell me."

"I... I remember the day you were born... you were so small and pretty..." Clarissa drifted. "I was in a lot of pain too at the time but when I held you in my arms..."

"... the pain disappeared, didn't it? It disappeared because you weren't focusing on it, just like you're not focusing on it right now. Instead, you 're swimming in that blissful memory, remembering the good, reliving the good, making the good a part of you again, a feeling that's becoming stronger, stronger... now look at my right index finger, Mom. That's right, look at it. See how it sways from left to right, right to left. Now it's going up only to come down right afterward and when you think it's already down enough, it goes further and further down, deeper, and deeper, until you can no longer see it. Try to keep up. See if you can notice the exact moment when my finger fades away before your eyes. Going left, now right. Left again, lingering there. Right again, rapidly changing direction. It's up now, above your forehead, now going right again, for it's right to follow along, focused on the finger, focused on the good memories you have inside you. As long as you remember them, there is no pain, the present can't hit you any more than it already did. No pain, just my words and these feelings. No pain, just my finger and these feelings. No pain, because pain is just another word, and it's not a favorite of yours. 'I Love You, Mom, Trust Me'. Trust Me when I tell you that the pain you think you're feeling is just a dream right now. Your mind is asleep, and it's casting this dream aside. It's not a dream you like, it's not a dream you want. You want to keep falling for me, eyes still locked on the finger, mind still attentive to my words. And even if I say gibberish like 'the captive of a towards environment raining oranges', all you'll hear and feel is Love and Trust, good memories one after the other, memories of happiness sinking deeper, and deeper... no pain, no more pain, Mom. You're relaxed, peaceful, content, and you feel no more pain. Trust Me, there is no pain, I Love You, there is no pain."

"I love you, too." Clarissa's eyes shut down when Angela's finger descended upon them. Angela felt the tension vanishing from her shoulders, too. It hadn't been her best effort, far from it, but the peaceful response she got made up for her initial blunder.

"This should last until we get to the hospital, I hope," she exhaled.

"Impressive," the paramedic noted. "Even I'm feeling a little light-headed now. Are you okay? You seem... disheartened."

"It's been one hell of a day and an even longer week. It was all supposed to be a nice dream, but it became quite the nightmare."

"If you need to talk..."

"Thanks, but that's okay. You probably wouldn't understand half of it."

"And do I have to? Can't I just be a friendly ear in your time of need?"

"You're too kind."

"I try to be but, sometimes, this job gets to us in unexpected ways."

"I know the feeling."

"I think this is the first time I enjoyed a hypnosis session," he remarked.

"Really?"

"You bet."

"You're not just saying that because you're trying to hit on me, are you?"

He blushed, and not even the artificial lights inside the vehicle could do anything to disguise it. "Ouch! That obvious, huh? Well, I shouldn't be surprised. Hypnotists know to read people after all."

"I'm flattered, I really am, but I don't think this is the time for..."

"Of course not. Forget I said anything although..."

"Yes?"

The paramedic leaned towards her as if eager to share a forbidden secret. "This may seem like another pick-up line but I feel like we've met before many years ago."

"It's funny you say that because you look familiar, too. The name's Angela. Angela Barnes."

He showed her the translucent name tag. "Kendall. Nicholas, but everyone calls me Nick."

"Nice to meet you," she shook his hand. "Wait... Nick Kendall?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Oh my God, you're Gregory's son!" Angela shrieked.

And just like that, the short trip to the hospital became longer than ever.