I thought I was dreaming, my wife, my son, in the hospital? This is more like a nightmare. I cancelled my business meeting with Japan, and hopped on my private jet to go see my wife, oh, uh, and my son. As soon as I got off the plane, there was a personally owned Chopper waiting to get to my hospital. When I arrived the doctor, however flabbergasted, was kissing up, stuttering, and giving the reports all at once. He needs to be fired, but more on that on a latter date. I need to make sure that nobody talks. I was talking to my wife, trying to calm her down a bit. She had a few cuts and a fractured arm. All well taken care of. She'll be fine, with some makeup, and physical therapy; it'll be as if there was no crash. She should be in some sort of play, she's so dramatic. The fumbling doctor interrupted me saying that he needed to see me about Gabriel. We went into his medical room down the hall. The man gave the report, "He has a lot of bruises on his head and shoulders. His right arm has a fracture, quite easy to heal. It's quite remarkable that he isn't dead; the drunk driver chose a great time to slam the brakes. However it's his..........uh, wings that concern me. I'm going to call an avian-specialist to help along the healing from them." Great. More money down the drain to keep more people quite. These wings, however holy they look, are going to drive me into the ground. I wish I could just................wait. "Doctor Kramer, cancel that call. I want you to remove the wings, both of them." He looked at me with an uncertain face. I said every C.E.O.'s magic words, "I'll double your salary for a year, if you do so." He nodded frantically saying, "Yes sir. However to remove the wings, we'll have to wait until his arm heals." I rubbed my forehead. He will hate me for a long time, but in the end, he'll come to thank me, for everything.
I woke up, on my stomach, to a white hospital room. My arm is in a cast beside me, with my hand exposed to the air. I groaned a bit, I feel like crap. My back and wings are KILLING me. Oh my Gosh. Dear old dad was sitting in a chair beside me, doing something with his i-phone. He saw me wake up and said, "Hey bud. How'd you feel?" I squinted at him. "Like crap, but I'll live." I said honestly. He smiled. That's weird there are three things you'll never see him do: Turn away a deal that'll make him money, Smile, and Call me by a nickname. That's right, Its never Bud, not Drew, not Gabe, nor Andy (my ex-girlfriend would call me that sometimes); It'll always be Gabriel. Something was definitely wrong. "What's going on?" I asked. His smile dropped, "You were in a car crash. There were no casualties, but, you, however got the worst of it." My head was buzzing. My first thought was 'Sweet I survived a nasty crash. Imagine what my friends would say.' then it was 'Oh No. I was in a nasty car cash.' I almost couldn't say it. "W--whats the damage?" He sighed. "It looks bad, but the doctors say you'll be O.K." "That wasn't what I meant." He paused. I was about to throttle him when he started to answer, "They look pretty bad, but we'll do what we can. Now the best thing you can do now is sleep." I had to think about this. I knew he was lying through his teeth. I wanted to say something, but the temptation of sleep was too sweet. Maybe a short nap could do me some good.
Three Months Later
"We'll be ready to start the procedure soon." said Dr. Kramer. We were walking down the hall towards the operation room on the fourth floor. The arm was declared fully healed the last night. Finally, my son we'll have the normal life he's always wanted. We entered the surgery room. The room had dimmed windows to hide it from prying eyes, but it still gave the person on the inside an excellent view of the city. Gabriel was sitting in his wheelchair, with a nervous look on his face. I asked, "Are you going to be O.K.?" He grinned. "I never actually had a operation before, but how bad could it be?", he shrugged. I had to smile myself, soon everything would go right, for both of us. "We're going to give you a little sedative that'll put you to sleep for the entire operation." Gabriel nodded, "Let's do this."
I woke up to some strange sounds. I didn't open my eyes, for fear of the operation not being done. I don't think it was, because I almost cried out in pain. My entire body felt like crap, especially my wings. I could hardly feel my right one. I tried to get my head together. Let's see, I hear a sawing sound that's kinda weird. What are they doing back there? I felt a sudden, sharp pain that disappeared as quickly as it came, and then I couldn't feel my wing anymore. I let out a moan without meaning to. I heard my father's voice through a speaker. "Hurry up Kramer! The sedative is wearing off, and I want those wings off yesterday!" The Doctor was stuttering out an answer about underestimating my metabolism. I didn't hear my body surged with pure rage and hate. I was fully awake. I started to roar, "HERALD!!!! YOU JUST MADE THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF YOUR LIFE!!!" I strained against the straps they had on my wrists. I snapped them easily. I turned to the three horrified Doctors. I saw that in the back was a tinted window. It didn't lead outside so I knew Dear old dad was watching; good I want him to see this. I punched one doctor, probably breaking his nose. I grabbed the other two and knocked their heads together. With all three knocked out I grabbed the cutting knife the first Doc was holding and ran outta the room. I ran out just in time to see Mr. Collins scrambling out of the room he was watching from. There was a nurse in her twenties, who probably had nothing to do with the situation, because her eyes said she just stepped into the hallway of hell. With acid dripping in my voice I said, "Hello father, prepare to DIE!" I raised the carving-knife in the air, I charged toward him, and he tried to get away. He never stood a chance, I grabbed him from behind and pinned him down on his face. The nurse ran off screaming bloody murder, I leaned in close to my dad's ear. I could hear his panicked breath. I whispered, "I lost my right wing because of you. Now you are going to lose your right arm. Does that seem fair? Huh?" I could feel the fear emitting from his body. I spread his arm out so I could take it off. I raised the knife and before I could bring it down, a gunshot hit the knife out of my hand. Dad's body guards. They're never too far away. I jumped off of him and ran into the room dad ran out of. I saw the window and I jumped for, but before I did that I heard my dad yell at the bodyguards. "Don't let him get away! I want it alive!" I heard some gunshots behind me.
After I crashed through the window I snapped out my wing. I'll tell you right now, there is a reason why birds have two wings. I flapped as hard as I could with no result, except for spinning like a helicopter in Missouri in the middle of Fall. I thought these would be the last seconds of my life, unfortunately I'm not that lucky. I landed on a car and hit my head. I wish I could sit there and catch my breath, but that women's scream woke me right back up. I stood up, and apparently everyone decided to be at the hospital tonight. All eyes were on me. It's like the nightmare where you're standing in front of everyone in your underwear, except this is no dream this is real. I didn't care right now, I need to get out of here. I ran over the hood of the car and down the side walk. I can still hear the questioning civilians behind me. Did you see that? What was on his back? It looked like a wing? What the Hell are they doing up there? I ignored them, only concerned with my own safety. I can run faster than most people, but I felt unbalanced this time, I almost fell twice. I had to get away from the streets, the police will be looking for a kid with wings, in his underwear. I saw a side alley and took it. Although I should have known better, when in the streets of DC you always look out for everything and I can't stress that enough. I dove behind a dumpster when I saw the front end of a police car driving slowly. If nothing else they're looking for a streaker, or Herald already alerted the police. After the car passed I peeked out to see if there were any more, only to be surprised a little by a new voice. "Ain't this my lucky day, you got twenty seconds to give me what you got." I turned around to see a kid about my size (think: skinny as hell), holding a knife. The knife gleamed in the little light we had from the street lamp just outside the alley. He probably didn't realize that I was in my boxers. He squinted his eyes. "What the-" He didn't get to finish that sentence, I punched him in the throat. He dropped down in agony. I pulled him back up by his hair and punched him in the face for good measure. I work out in the gym when I can, so I'd like to think I'm physically fit. I took off his clothes and put them on. I already had underwear, so he always had that. Plus punk-poser here had to have homeboys somewhere around here. I left his wallet there next to him, after all I'm not a thief. He'll be humiliated for life, and he'll be sore for a month, but nothing too serious. I looked down the road. A new chapter is about to open in my life, and it will not be a good one.
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