Josie Said Josie: A Narrative Fiction

“Wake up,” Josie Said to me as she pulled the comforter off of my bed. “Five more minutes,” I slowly griped. “No, we have to get our bags packed, today's the day,” Said Josie. I got up, my bones aching worse than a two day old flu shot, and my head spinning quicker than a hurricane. Once I was ready to go downstairs, I picked up a blanket lying on the floor, I then wrapped it around my half naked body, and I walked out of my bedroom and down the stairs I headed. When I go down the never ending stairs, I went to the kitchen to get me a glass of orange juice—a glass fresh from our small city of Destin, Florida. I drank the entire glass in under a minute. (That was a personal record of mine that changes from time to time). When I got done drinking the orange juice, I went to Josie's room to see what I needed to pack. Once I reached the top of those darn stairs, I went in search
for Josie. As I reached her door, I heard a loud thump coming from somewhere within her room. I entered without knocking, and found her in her walk-in closet, throwing shoes on an immense pile of clothing. I Said, “Josie! What in the world are you doing?” She replied, “I’m trying to find my trench coat!” All of a sudden Josie looks up at me and says, “You need to get packing, we’re leaving in 30 minutes!” As I realized how short 30 minutes actually was, I hurried to my room.
I found my suitcase and laid it on my bed. I then went to my dresser that housed my clothes, and opened it to pick up most of the volume of the drawer and awkwardly walk over to my suitcase and I then dumped it all in. Besides the daily necessities, I got my phone charger, my Dolce&Gabbana cologne that I loved, and my Apple MacBook. A little bit of time passed and I was finally ready to leave. When I hopped into my family's SUV, my dad finally told us where we were going, New York City. I had heard so many bad things about that city, the crime; assault, murder, and drug trafficking, and then I thought to myself about the possibility of a second Sept. 11th…I just got goosebumps. Ever since the act of terrorism I had been afraid of that city. To be perfectly honest, I was for once in my life afraid. Some time passed and we were finally at the airport in Georgia. “Flight 4709, now boarding. The flight will be leaving the airport approximately in 25 minutes.” My anxiety was literately killing
me. Our flight finally landed at LaGuardia Airport, and I could not wait to get off this giant metal bird. We got off the plane, called an Uber, and headed to our suite at The Pearl Hotel at 233 W 49th St, New York, NY 10019. I unpacked my things and took a shower to relieve my stress. It was 4:00 P.M., and my parents wanted my sister and I go out and explore Manhattan, they wanted us to get an experience. We trekked a short block to Times Square, and hit a few shopping centers. However, we got a little too careless and walked out of the nine-story Macy’s and it was really dark, almost pitch black. For some reason the only illuminated place on the street was the allies, and Josie suggested we go that way because it was lit, so we went, and she Said to me, “Gabriel get that scared look off of your face, nothing bad is going to happen…” Right then I looked up, realizing that we both were at gunpoint, and I told her, “Don’t panic, but we’re at gunpoint.”
I could sense how scared she was, she was breathing very shakily. I told her to breathe, and that we were going to be alright. The people who were holding Josie and I at gunpoint were two tall Hispanic looking men who looked like they'd shoot us over a few bucks. “Give us all you got; money, smartphones, everything,” Said the one to the left. “I don’t think I can do this. We are only 17, Gabe.” She shakily replied. “Josie, stop you’re panicking. You need to take a few deep breaths,” I said as I tried to hid a tear from crawling down my cheeks. She couldn’t take the extreme anxiety and the uneasiness of the fear that consumed her. She cried, “I can’t do this…I have to leave.” The one to the right shot her in her right shoulder, she hit the ground, and she wasn't moving. I started bawling, and I gave the two men all of my valuables. I didn't know this yet, but the one to the left pointed his gun at me. I then realized it and started to prepare myself, “Gabriel, you may or may not get shot. You need to know this will hurt like a beaver, but you’ll be fine.” I was ready no matter the situation. I heard the hammer get clicked back and I knew for sure that I was going to get shot. “POW,” the gun fired. I felt like I was put into slow motion. I felt pierce into my lower abdomen, it was most likely the bullet. It felt like it went right through me. I was in some pain, but I barely felt any of it due to the shock that I was in. It took me a few minutes to come to my senses and realize what actually had just happened, we were mugged at gunpoint, and we got shot! I yelled help for almost ten minutes until somebody came to help. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Said the couple who came to help us. I Said, “Yes I am fine, but my sister…is she okay?” They both Said the exact same thing, “Yes”
The man called 911. It was 12 minutes before the ambulance got here, (I counted). We rushed through the traffic, dodging each taxi, car, etc.. We arrived at Mount Sinai Hospital in less than the time it took the EMT’s to get to the crime scene. As my level of consciousness ascended and descended, I could hear the doctors talking about Josie’s health being critical; that’s when my level of consciousness became zero. When I came to my senses, I was gaining the sense of fear due to the nonexistent pain that I felt. “What’s wrong with me, why can’t I feel anything?” I Said to myself, not realizing that the doctor was beginning to enter my room. “You can’t feel anything, at all?” Said the tall, dark-haired, Hispanic-looking doctor. I felt my chin casually start to quiver, and my lips start to pucker. I tried to hold back the tears, but I could feel a few slowly shed from my eye and make their way down my cheek. I caught my breath and I shakily said, “No, no I can’t feel anything. Why can’t I feel anything?” “Why,” he Said, “well you can’t feel anything because you’re paralyzed…from the neck down.”
“Why? How is this possible?” I said, letting my emotions get the better of me as I started to cry.
“When you were shot, the bullet didn't go all the way through; see it went through your abdomen, then it continued its way through your intestines, and at last, it hit your spine. Broke it all the way in half. We did as much as possible, but because of the trajectory of the bullet, we don't think that you will ever walk again.” “You may gain some motor functions throughout rehab and therapy, but there is little chance of you ever being able to walk again.”
I just sat there in silence for several moments. And when I was finally able to focus, I then said, “How is my sister, is she okay?”
“Look for yourself,” he said as she walked in the room. It seemed like she had been crying for quite a while. I guess they told her about my condition.
The days carried on. Obliviously, my first several weeks of rehab, based on motor skills, flew by. Josie helped me through it all…

Weeks had flown by, and before I knew it, it was the 27th of June. The next morning I wake, and I started my usual, daily routine, which mainly consisted of me waking up, getting fed my breakfast by either my sister Josie or the staff, and getting prepared for another vigorous day of rehab; and yet, something didn't feel right; I couldn't quite put my finger on it though. It was 9:00 o’clock in the morning, and the usual nurse came in to administer my medicine. As she entered my room, I noticed that her hands were full. She was making conversation, and she laughed stating, “I was trying to bring everything into your room all at once because I didn't want to make a second trip back to the medication cart sitting in the hallway. We've have had several other nurses call in sick today, so we are very short staffed.” She gave me my medications that I had to swallow, and saved my antibiotic shot until last. She prepared the injection site with rubbing alcohol, and then came at my thigh in a swift, darting motion with the needle and syringe, and as I saw the needle pierce my skin, it was then that I realized…