Born Twice
By Alyssa Plant (evil cow)

'“How are you feeling, ah, Rebecca?” the doctor asked consulting his chart.

“Like I was beaten up” Rebecca replied dryly.'

Chapter 14

*Bleep bleep*

*Bleep bleep*

“Ok, put her on a 24mg drip, I’ll check back in about an hour.”

“Yes Doctor”

*Bleep bleep*

*Bleep bleep*

Rebecca felt like she had been lying with her mouth open for a long time, her mouth and throat were bone dry and sore.

Everything seemed so over sensitive at the moment, pain spread though her body like a slow burn.

Clenching her fist she felt the tug of her skin against a needle in her arm.

It felt like she could feel everything. Almost as if it was easier than visually trying visually assess things. Keeping her eyes closed for now felt safe; a detachment from the reality of where she was.

Clearly a hospital bed.

Opening her eyes felt like a labour.

Bright light filtered through her barely open eyelids; it seemed almost blinding.

Maybe not yet.

“Ugh hello” she croaked.

“Doctor, she’s awake”

“Can you hear me love?”

Footfalls and detached voices, bodiless voices filled her mind.

Rebecca forced her eyes open, and a room flooded into view.

A concerned nurse and a middle-aged male doctor stood by her side.

“Where am i?”

This all seemed like a bad dream, a sadistic dream, or was it? A strong feeling of déjá  vu swam around her head.

“You’re in the Royal Manchester love… Do you remember what happened?”

Nodding sorely, Rebecca checked her recollection.

”I was attacked at my End of year ball?” she whispered.

“Yes dear” Soothed the nurse. “Its ok, you’re safe now.”

“Paul?” Rebecca questioned more to herself than the nurse.

“Ill check love.” She soothed. “This is Doctor Martin; he will tell you what’s been happening.”

With a warm smile the nurse vanished.

“How are you feeling, ah, Rebecca?” the doctor asked consulting his chart.

“Like I was beaten up” Rebecca replied dryly.

“Yes, you were. You were admitted last night. He answered.

“You have several broken ribs, and a lot of bruising, but I think you’ll live to fight another day… ah sorry” Realising his sense of humour was not needed.

“Are you feeling up to visitors? We have several of your friends outside.” He asked trying to divert Rebecca’s attention from his faux pas.

Rebecca nodded and the doctor nodded, writing on his chart and left.

About 5 minutes later she was inundated by very gentle hugs from her friends. Amy, Sarah and Jenny looked like they had not been home. Their hair was messy and still in their gowns. Mark and Toby were in just their dress shirts and tuxedo trousers. That wasn’t what she thought it was on their shirts was it?

“We were so worried” gushed Amy. When we heard the commotion outside we came to find you and by the time we got there, they had run off.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t come with you, it might not have happened.” Sobbed Sarah

“Guys, I told you not to.” Scolded Rebecca, she had to remove the blame from her friends.

“Is Paul….?” She whispered glancing at the boys bloody shirts.

“No no he’s ok” Jenny soothed. “He got stabbed; there was a lot of blood.” The ambulance got there just in time they said.

Rebecca felt a massive weight lift from her chest.

“Can I sit up guys” she asked, almost smiling. Soon, with her friends’ assistance she was sitting in the bed and feeling almost her old self again.

Giggling at the irony of such a thought made her clutch her chest in pain as her ribs moved.

”What is it?” asked an anxious Toby.

”Oh nothing, when you told me he was ok, I just felt great, I had a bad dream I think. And I thought to myself ‘you know, I feel like almost my old self again’” Rebecca replied, refraining from the temptation to giggle again.

“We were so worried Bex” Frowned Amy.

“We all feel partly to blame, I know you said we aren’t, but still, I feel partly responsible for everything. We...” she glanced around the others.

“We are here for you, for good now. We’re on your side, and nothing will stop that.”

Rebecca felt a tear roll down her cheek, friends? This wasn’t exactly new, but friends who had her back? Who had and would stand up for her? This was new, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep herself from crying.

Later on, after the group were ushered out of the room by the mother hen nurse, Rebecca sat by herself. Quietly aching and reflecting on this whole mess.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the doctor’s reappearance at her bedside.

“Are you feeling better Miss Anderson?”

Rebecca nodded.

“Can I see Paul? My boyfriend? Please…” she begged.

“I’m not sure you should be walking around right now, but I can see if we can find an orderly with a wheelchair if you promise to not get too amorous, he’s still in Intensive Care.” The doctor mock scolded.

Sitting down on the end of her bed he set his clipboard down and sighed.

“Its funny, I’d have thought a girl in your position would have asked for us to contact her parents at the first opportunity…. I take it they aren’t privy to everything?” he said nodding his head towards Rebecca.

She blushed.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think now is a good time for them to see me…” she trailed off.

“How long have you been transitioned?” Doctor Martin asked.

Rebecca studied his face for a moment. He looked genuine and caring enough.

“A few months” she whispered.

“I understand how hard it is, believe me.” He replied “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell them?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“It was something I was avoiding I guess.” She admitted, breaking eye contact with him.

“I understand.” He replied.

“I remember coming out to my parents at your age. They were sort of ok with a gay son, but never the same. It’s what pushed me into medicine”

Rebecca looked into Dr Martin’s eyes. This was a kind caring man.

“I just worry that they will think I’m some pervert” She whispered. “Like they…” she tailed off.

“I hope they catch the bastards that did this to you two. It was disgusting, and heinous.” He growled.

The anger that flared in his eyes was palpable. Rebecca could see the flames of his soul dancing in those glassy pits.

It made her feel good; human. She was a victim, not some weirdo getting her just deserts. It empowered her. What’s more, his words made sense.

“Can you call my parents” She asked.

Dr Martin didn’t look entirely surprised.

“Sure.” He said with a hint of a smile. “What should I tell them? Gender wise?”

Rebecca thought for a moment.

“Tell them their child has been attacked, and is here. They will probably mention ‘Charlie’” she mused.

Try to not drop them any hints I guess. Ill try to make myself more androgynous before they come.” She said.

Dr Martin snorted.

“Look love.” He grinned. “You don’t look remotely androgynous. I can’t imagine you looked any more male before you accepted yourself. Just go with the flow, and possibly pull the blanket over your chest. Hmm?” He grinned as Rebecca as she blushed, realising her chest was that obvious.

Patting her leg he smiled. “You’re a good kid. I hope it works out. Ill go call, then send an orderly to take you to lover boy.” He smiled and left.

As Rebecca was pushed though the hallways to the ICU, she felt acutely aware that people were looking at her.

Not confused, but pity…

As they passed a glass walled conference room, she realised why.

“Can you stop a moment.” She begged the bored looking orderly.

Looking in the darkened glass, she saw why she was the focus of so much attention.

She looked like a frightened little girl. Her face was black and blue. Bruised cheekbone, black eye, swollen lips.

She looked like she had gone 6 rounds with boxer.

As they continued down the hallway, she wondered what people must think.

A beaten up girl? Was she the sort of image people associated with pity?

She wondered if they would feel as sorry if they knew the full details.

As they Entered Paul’s room, she thanked the orderly, who went to wait outside.

Gingerly, she got to her feet, and approached Paul’s bedside.

He was sleeping peacefully. Tubes and machines bleeped away oblivious of her presence.

She crawled onto the bed next to Paul, and wrapped her arm around his chest, bellow his bandages and dressings and snuggled her head into his armpit.

She felt so safe next to him. So protected.

”You must be Rebecca” A voice said behind her.

Sitting up abruptly, she slid off the bed and turned to face the voice.

A woman was stood before her; she looked to be in her early 40s, about 5’8 with her Auburn hair up in a bun. She was by the door with a coffee in her hand looking distinctly tired.

She nodded meekly.

“I’m Mrs Harper” She explained. “Paul’s mother.”

“My you poor dear, you were there when he was attacked?” She said, looking sympathetic.

“I uh, was the reason he was attacked, I’m sorry” Rebecca answered, before sinking to one of the bedside chairs; “it’s all my fault she sobbed.

Mrs Harper Put her arm around Rebecca and pulled the girl to her bosom and allowed her to cry it out of her system.

The two talked for some time.

“Your past was no justification.” Mrs said.

“You’re a lovely young woman, and I’m glad my son is seeing someone as truly special as you. You’re true to yourself and him.”

“Can I ask you something?” she asked quietly.

Rebecca nodded.

“Do you love him?”

“Very much” Rebecca whispered.

“Good” Replied Mrs Harper. “Then I want you to know you are welcome in our home at any time dear, as if you were one of my own daughters.” She smiled, opening her arms to Rebecca

It was truly too much, and Rebecca hugged Mrs Harper as she cried tears of happiness.

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