The Sight
By
Nick B

 © Nick B 2008
Marvellously edited by Gabi

An accident leaves Darryl Groves in hospital. His mother and uncle are there when he comes to, but what have they done to him?

Chapter 1

“Where am I?” asked sixteen year-old Darryl Groves. He felt as if he’d just wakened from a particularly bad night’s sleep, aching and stiff. He was surprised to see his uncle, Paul and his mum, Gemma peering at him and he appeared to be in bed. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what are we doing here? We’ve been talking to you for the last half hour,” said Gemma who turned away, muttering something about “stupid bloody motorbikes” and “taking the piss”.

“It’s alright, Gemma. He’s had a concussion and possibly more, it does strange things. I’ll stay with him until the doctors have been round.”

“Bloody motorbikes,” said Gemma again. “I’m sorry, Darryl, I’m going to have to go get ready for work,” Then, with no more than a swift peck on Darryl’s cheek, she marched straight out of the hospital ward.

“What happened, Paul?”

“You came off the bike. Richard was watching you as you jumped off the top of that mound. He said it was quite spectacular.

Darryl smiled ruefully. “Is the bike okay?”

“I think so. Nothing major broken or bent–unlike you. The equalisation tube from the air forks came adrift is about all. When we found you I thought you were dying. There appeared to be green gunk oozing from your stomach and blood coming from a gash in your left leg. I think your right leg broke when you and the bike hit the deck. Anyway, it’s nothing that won’t mend. We’ll know more when the doctors have been round. How’s your eye?”

“It doesn’t feel bad, but I can’t open it, so I don’t know.”

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Sorry about the bike.”

“It’s only a tube and some oil. It’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“What about the gunk?”

Paul laughed uncomfortably. “Fork oil; it was dripping from the headstock. Boy was I relieved when I realised.”

“I don’t remember anything. The only thing I can remember is tootling around and then a couple of moments ago. Everything else–” Darryl tried to raise his hands and shrug, but the bruising to his shoulder prevented it.

The doctor came soon after and a nurse shooed Paul away to the waiting area. “We’ll call you when the doctor’s finished,” she said and drew the curtains around Darryl’s bed.

Paul went to the waiting area and sat down with a cup of coffee, wondering whether letting Darryl ride his bike was such a good idea.

He had played down Darryl’s injuries somewhat. The gash in his upper, inner thigh was nasty, bleeding quite profusely at the scene, but because of his jeans, it wasn’t obvious how far up or down his leg it went, what was actually damaged or how badly. It wasn’t known at this early stage whether his eye was damaged permanently.

The concussion was another consideration. Sometimes it can mask what damage has been caused inside, out of sight, although it didn’t appear as though Darryl had anything to worry about there. He was chipper and chatting away although his eye–the one that wasn’t damaged, was unfocussed, but he did seem to know who he was talking to and that was always a positive sign. Gemma was probably just worried for her son. Paul knew he was.

The nurse eventually returned with the doctor and met with Paul.

“You’re young Mr. Groves’–” asked the doctor.

“Uncle.”

“Right, right, yes of course. I’m afraid it’s worse than we thought. We’re prepping him for surgery and we’ll have to take it from there, but the injury he sustained to his left inner thigh is quite a nasty affair.”

“It’s serious then?”

“Certainly. I think you got him here just in time. As to just how much damage has been caused won’t be apparent until after we’ve cleaned him up properly and had a better look, but it looks as though the damage goes right into the groin. It looks as though we’re going to have to operate and see if we can get it all back to normal.”

“He will be alright won’t he?”

“Oh of that I’m sure. There will be some things he will have to get used to for a while at least, but he should be fine. Now we’ve had a chance to look, we can better see the most of the damage. If he’s lucky, he’ll be up and about in a couple of weeks–with a plaster cast and bandages of course.”

“If he’s not?”

“Let’s try not to think about that shall we?”

Paul went to the public phone in the foyer before heading out to the car park.

“Gemma… Paul… Yes he’s fine… They’re taking him into surgery… No, no, no. He just damaged his leg more than they thought… I don’t know, they didn’t say. I’m sorry–” Paul replaced the receiver, in no doubt as to whom Gemma was blaming for this, but accidents happen.

---

Darryl awoke to the brilliance of the ward lights, still unable to open one eye more than a mere smidgeon. He had no idea how long he’d been there, was it a day, two perhaps? All he knew was that he’d hurt himself badly and now he could feel just how hurt he was.

“Nurse?” he called. The nurse arrived after a couple more calls. “I need to go, um to the toilet.”

“What sort?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you need a bed-pan?”

“I just need to pee,” he said, frustrated at the fact that something so simple could be so hard to achieve.

“Then pee. There’s a catheter inserted,” she said after checking his chart. “Call if you need to do anything else.”

A catheter? What the hell had happened? Just the thought of something being shoved where he thought it had been shoved, brought tears to his eyes.

It was with no small measure of discomfort that he let his bladder empty. The pain down there was quite severe and though he was afraid of what he might find, he reached down, touching the area round his groin gingerly, meeting nothing but surgical tape and dressings around a smallish tube that stuck out from between his legs.

Oh Jesus… he thought, snatching his hand back and trembling noticeably.

It felt as though someone had driven the Queen Mary up there. He could feel it when he peed–-right deep inside. Curiously or frighteningly, he could feel nothing outside and that’s what set his mind racing.

There had been no visitors and about the only thing that alerted him to the time of day, was the fact at one point, dinner was served, although either “dinner” or “served” should be taken as very loose terms indeed. In the meantime, he noticed a strange sound, just too far away to be recognisable, occasionally, catching his attention and causing him great pain as he twisted to try and see where it was coming from.

---

His mum and Paul did come back that afternoon or early evening and talk was much less fraught. Gemma seemed to have calmed down and come to terms with the fact that Darryl had had an accident. It was no-one’s fault but his own and his injuries were the price he paid. The fact that he thought that the price he was paying was quite a lot higher than his mother thought it was, was something that would have to be broached at a later date and hopefully at a time when he wasn’t around. He just knew how his mum was likely to take this.

Sleep came with difficulty. Perhaps if that humming in his ears would stop, it would have been easier; plus he had so many things on his mind. His groin and one leg were bandaged while the other leg was plastered from his toes to his thigh to name but two.

His eye was puffy though it was working, which was one thing less to worry about, but, having all this time with nothing to do, made his mind think of the strangest things.

He drifted off to sleep, though it was riddled with what could have been dreams or perhaps memories. Maybe they were just odd visions.

It was a few years ago, or that was the way it seemed. He was leafing through the mail order catalogue on the way to see a picture of the bike his mum had ordered for him to go to and from school on–ostensibly anyway. The fact that he would get to use it for fun too, was just a bonus.

He had his heart set on one particular model and because it saved money–i.e., negated bus fares, his mum relented and from the day she ordered it until the day it arrived, he pored over the catalogue to look at his newest and most prized possession–to be.

On this particular occasion, the book opened at the clothing section or more precisely, the girl’s clothes and he found himself looking at a picture of one girl in something he could only describe as amazing. The image was so strong, it even woke him and he opened his eye to see the ward subdued and quiet. Meanwhile, that vision burned into him like a red-hot poker.

He remembered the time he first saw it. Apart from the fact that she was pretty, the deep red leotard she was wearing outlined every bump, curve and valley on her body. It wasn’t revealing, just form-hugging and showed off her maturing body beautifully. Something inside him wished he could wear something like that; it looked so silky-smooth and before he knew it, his brain was imagining him running his hands over his body, feeling the satin surface of the garment as it clung tightly to every inch it covered.

To say he was stunned at his own head coming up with something like that was at the time–well, frankly hideous and no less in retrospect, but could he get that thought from his mind? Not a chance. He remembered how it haunted him for several days afterwards and during that time he didn’t know what to do. Why had it come back to him now?

Perhaps it was the fear of having lost part of him and to a maturing adolescent boy–a very important part of him. Despite trying not to, for fear of seeing more upsetting images, he couldn’t help himself dozing off again

---

Darryl’s shoes were wearing out. Gemma told him to look in the catalogue for another pair. This time, he found just what he was looking for.

They were perfect. They were platforms, which were the style everyone was breaking their ankles with at the time (usually after tripping over the horrendously wide flares everyone was wearing too); black, which meant they would fit with the uniform for school and best of all, they were platforms.

“Did I mention they had platform soles mum? Real trendy.”

Gemma wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see…” she said.

Wait until I tell Dawn at school… he thought as he scampered off to the bedroom, she had a pair just like them.

Again, he was awake.

Did I actually ask mum to buy me shoes that looked like Dawn’s? he asked himself.

The memory came back in dribs and drabs and he remembered how much trouble he got into when he announced, pleased as punch that his shoes looked like Dawn’s. Fact was, he didn’t get them. He told him mum which one’s they were so that she could order them, but she took one look and said “I’m not buying you those,” and that was all there was to it.

They had been in the men’s section, but they were almost identical to the one’s Dawn wore and that set a whole ball rolling that he never anticipated.

The term queer–-or any other terms synonymous with it–were applied in fairly liberal quantities when references were made to Darryl and if he ever answered back, then it was usually either a dunking into the lavatory or a sound pasting.

“Why am I seeing these?” he asked aloud to no-one in particular.

He tried desperately to stay awake; the thought of sleeping and being embarrassed by any more of his childhood faux-pas, was too much to contemplate and was that humming getting louder?

---

To be continued…

All comments and votes gratefully received...