The Nelson Shot
Part 2
“Shit!” All Claire could feel was her throbbing face and warm liquid running down into her mouth. The force of Matt’s blow had knocked her off the bed and onto the floor of his room; she cradled her face in both hands and rolled over onto her side. She was close to his nightstand – too close. She could have hit her head when she’d landed, got a concussion! Her head hurt enough as it was, and she wasn’t quite ready to get up yet. As she lay there, she heard the front door open and close, then someone called out, “Matt?”
It was Foggy. Maybe Matt had called him, too. Slumping slightly in relief that someone else was there, she tried to call out, and the sound of footsteps across the living room floor increased in speed. “Claire?”
Now he crouched down next to her, hovering uncertainly. “Oh, my god! What happened?”
“Matt,” she murmured. “Hit me.”
“Matt hit you?” Foggy glanced up to where Matt was sprawled on the bed, quiet for the moment.
Claire took her hands away from her mouth and heard Foggy gasp in surprise. Her face must look pretty bad, to judge from how Foggy’s expression went from confusion to horror. “He hit me when I tried to look at where he was hurt.” It hurt to talk, but she had to explain. “I thought he was drunk at first, but I don’t think he is. Maybe some kind of head injury?”
“I’ve only seen Matt drunk once or twice, and that was back in college. Hey, you need some ice? I’ll get you some.” He went over to the kitchen area and rummaged around while Claire pulled herself to a sitting position. When he came back, he handed her an ice pack wrapped in a towel, and she pressed it gently to her face.
“Oww,” she groaned.
“Did he break your nose?”
“I’m not sure,” Claire admitted with a mental sigh, wondering what kind of story she’d have to make up for the other nurses in the ER if she went to get it treated. Walked into a door … no. Mugged on the street, maybe.
Matt mumbled something from the bed, and Foggy straightened up for a better look at him. “Is he bleeding? Should I be doing something?”
“Yeah, he’s bleeding.” Claire tried to point. “There should be a towel there, can you put some pressure on the wound? It’s on his left side, right under his ribs.” It hurt to talk, and wiping the tears from her eyes hurt, too. She really needed to get this checked.
Foggy went around to the other side of the bed and she heard the mattress groan as he sat down.
“He’s not bleeding out, is he?” Foggy asked.
“I don’t think so, but it’s got to be stitched. I should give him a local, too, maybe he won’t be so violent if it doesn’t hurt so much.” Claire realized she was thinking out loud. And the mention of blood reminded her that she’d been sitting around neglecting her patient. Slowly, with another groan, she got to her feet and reached for her bag.
“Can you get his suit off him, or roll up the side or something?” she asked, pulling out a bottle and a packaged syringe.
But when Foggy made an attempt to remove the top half of the suit, Matt lashed out again, hard enough to send Foggy to the floor with a loud cry.
“Matt!”she exclaimed, exasperation overcoming her pain for a moment. “That’s it, I’m going to have to restrain you!”
Then she remembered Foggy, and asked, “You okay?”
“Just a black eye, probably,” he said, getting up with a groan.
She put the ice pack down and glanced around the room for possibilities, but short of lugging Matt off the mattress and binding his hands to the radiator, there were surprisingly few. His bed didn’t have any headboard at all, let alone one that would lend itself to kinky stuff, but she glanced underneath and was pleased to discover that the bed was on legs instead of in a box frame. They would have to do. Setting the local anesthetic aside, she found a roll of gauze and a pair of scissors instead.
“Five minutes ago, I would have offered to sit on him,” Foggy said.
“You might have to anyway,” she said, looking at where the skin around Foggy’s eye was already turning from red to blue, then looking away again.
She got on her hands and knees to tie one end of the gauze bandage to the leg of the bed, but bending her head down made pain explode in Claire’s face and black spots dance at the edge of her vision. She had to sit back for a moment before she could get up and reach for Matt’s arm.
“Matt,” she said softly, tugging off his glove and rubbing the back of his hand, all the while hoping she could jump out of reach if he should move. “Matt, I’m just going to move your arm a little, all right? I’m just stretching it out a bit here.”
Then Foggy was there, shifting Matt’s nightstand out of the way so that he could stand at the head of the bed and hold Matt’s wrist while she quickly rolled the gauze around it three times, then cut the material so she could tie it. They both heaved a sigh of relief when she finished without incident.
Claire let Foggy get under the bed on the other side, and when they’d finished, Claire moved Matt’s arm to test his range of movement. It was still too much. After some deliberation, she pulled his left arm closer to his body, as close as the restraint would allow, then rolled out another length of gauze. She tied one end to Matt’s wrist, above the first restraint, then threaded the other end carefully underneath Matt’s body. He shifted above her hand and murmured something that sounded like, “Uh kicked uh dog.”
“You didn’t kick a dog, you hit two of your best friends in the face,” Foggy said loudly as Claire went around to the other side of the bed and groped for the end of the gauze.
“Mm sorry,” Matt replied, squirming a bit. Claire froze at the movement.
“Doggy. Foggy,” Matt went on, but at least he stopped wriggling.
“Dude, I’ll make you sorry if you ever call me Doggy-Foggy again,” Foggy replied, and Claire wanted to smile. But it hurt too much, so she settled for pulling the gauze out from under Matt’s back, stretching it tightly, then moving his right arm closer to his body and tying the end of the gauze to his right wrist. Now that he was restrained at two points, she could probably try to check his wound again.
“You think that’ll be enough?” Foggy asked. “What about his legs?”
Claire sighed. The pain in her face was becoming exhausting, and she wasn’t even close to being done with Matt yet. “Don’t suppose you want to sit on him?”
“Hell, no, he’d probably kick me right through the window and over to the next building, even without his hands. Didn’t you see that footage of him on the news that one time?”
So they tied each of Matt’s legs to the legs of the bed as well, and then to each other. When they were done, Claire reached for the ice pack, pressed it to her face, and sank down on the side of the bed.
Go to Part 3
It was Foggy. Maybe Matt had called him, too. Slumping slightly in relief that someone else was there, she tried to call out, and the sound of footsteps across the living room floor increased in speed. “Claire?”
Now he crouched down next to her, hovering uncertainly. “Oh, my god! What happened?”
“Matt,” she murmured. “Hit me.”
“Matt hit you?” Foggy glanced up to where Matt was sprawled on the bed, quiet for the moment.
Claire took her hands away from her mouth and heard Foggy gasp in surprise. Her face must look pretty bad, to judge from how Foggy’s expression went from confusion to horror. “He hit me when I tried to look at where he was hurt.” It hurt to talk, but she had to explain. “I thought he was drunk at first, but I don’t think he is. Maybe some kind of head injury?”
“I’ve only seen Matt drunk once or twice, and that was back in college. Hey, you need some ice? I’ll get you some.” He went over to the kitchen area and rummaged around while Claire pulled herself to a sitting position. When he came back, he handed her an ice pack wrapped in a towel, and she pressed it gently to her face.
“Oww,” she groaned.
“Did he break your nose?”
“I’m not sure,” Claire admitted with a mental sigh, wondering what kind of story she’d have to make up for the other nurses in the ER if she went to get it treated. Walked into a door … no. Mugged on the street, maybe.
Matt mumbled something from the bed, and Foggy straightened up for a better look at him. “Is he bleeding? Should I be doing something?”
“Yeah, he’s bleeding.” Claire tried to point. “There should be a towel there, can you put some pressure on the wound? It’s on his left side, right under his ribs.” It hurt to talk, and wiping the tears from her eyes hurt, too. She really needed to get this checked.
Foggy went around to the other side of the bed and she heard the mattress groan as he sat down.
“He’s not bleeding out, is he?” Foggy asked.
“I don’t think so, but it’s got to be stitched. I should give him a local, too, maybe he won’t be so violent if it doesn’t hurt so much.” Claire realized she was thinking out loud. And the mention of blood reminded her that she’d been sitting around neglecting her patient. Slowly, with another groan, she got to her feet and reached for her bag.
“Can you get his suit off him, or roll up the side or something?” she asked, pulling out a bottle and a packaged syringe.
But when Foggy made an attempt to remove the top half of the suit, Matt lashed out again, hard enough to send Foggy to the floor with a loud cry.
“Matt!”she exclaimed, exasperation overcoming her pain for a moment. “That’s it, I’m going to have to restrain you!”
Then she remembered Foggy, and asked, “You okay?”
“Just a black eye, probably,” he said, getting up with a groan.
She put the ice pack down and glanced around the room for possibilities, but short of lugging Matt off the mattress and binding his hands to the radiator, there were surprisingly few. His bed didn’t have any headboard at all, let alone one that would lend itself to kinky stuff, but she glanced underneath and was pleased to discover that the bed was on legs instead of in a box frame. They would have to do. Setting the local anesthetic aside, she found a roll of gauze and a pair of scissors instead.
“Five minutes ago, I would have offered to sit on him,” Foggy said.
“You might have to anyway,” she said, looking at where the skin around Foggy’s eye was already turning from red to blue, then looking away again.
She got on her hands and knees to tie one end of the gauze bandage to the leg of the bed, but bending her head down made pain explode in Claire’s face and black spots dance at the edge of her vision. She had to sit back for a moment before she could get up and reach for Matt’s arm.
“Matt,” she said softly, tugging off his glove and rubbing the back of his hand, all the while hoping she could jump out of reach if he should move. “Matt, I’m just going to move your arm a little, all right? I’m just stretching it out a bit here.”
Then Foggy was there, shifting Matt’s nightstand out of the way so that he could stand at the head of the bed and hold Matt’s wrist while she quickly rolled the gauze around it three times, then cut the material so she could tie it. They both heaved a sigh of relief when she finished without incident.
Claire let Foggy get under the bed on the other side, and when they’d finished, Claire moved Matt’s arm to test his range of movement. It was still too much. After some deliberation, she pulled his left arm closer to his body, as close as the restraint would allow, then rolled out another length of gauze. She tied one end to Matt’s wrist, above the first restraint, then threaded the other end carefully underneath Matt’s body. He shifted above her hand and murmured something that sounded like, “Uh kicked uh dog.”
“You didn’t kick a dog, you hit two of your best friends in the face,” Foggy said loudly as Claire went around to the other side of the bed and groped for the end of the gauze.
“Mm sorry,” Matt replied, squirming a bit. Claire froze at the movement.
“Doggy. Foggy,” Matt went on, but at least he stopped wriggling.
“Dude, I’ll make you sorry if you ever call me Doggy-Foggy again,” Foggy replied, and Claire wanted to smile. But it hurt too much, so she settled for pulling the gauze out from under Matt’s back, stretching it tightly, then moving his right arm closer to his body and tying the end of the gauze to his right wrist. Now that he was restrained at two points, she could probably try to check his wound again.
“You think that’ll be enough?” Foggy asked. “What about his legs?”
Claire sighed. The pain in her face was becoming exhausting, and she wasn’t even close to being done with Matt yet. “Don’t suppose you want to sit on him?”
“Hell, no, he’d probably kick me right through the window and over to the next building, even without his hands. Didn’t you see that footage of him on the news that one time?”
So they tied each of Matt’s legs to the legs of the bed as well, and then to each other. When they were done, Claire reached for the ice pack, pressed it to her face, and sank down on the side of the bed.
Go to Part 3