bellicostic

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bellicostic (adj.) - aggressive, belligerent, warlike

When she woke up again, everything from before getting hit in the head was a blur. She was dizzy, disoriented, and had no idea where she was. She heard beeping, and there was a needle in her arm, and when she opened her eyes, she was a little panicked and felt as if she had been hit by a bus.

"Hey, hey. Relax Sam." She heard Nash say as he grabbed her hand.

"Where am I?" She asked, calming down.

"You're in the hospital. You've got a pretty nasty concussion and stitches in your head." He told her, and she groaned as all the pain hit her at once.

"Let me get the nurse alright?" He said, kissing the other side of her head before getting up and walking out of the room. She took a minute now and looked around. She was in a hospital gown, her clothes in a bag on the counter on the way to the restroom. There was an IV in her arm, a blood pressure node on her finger, and a bandage covered what she assumed to be the stitches.

"Hey there Ms. Reed, glad to see you awake." The nurse said as she walked in with a smile. "How are you feeling?" She asked as she did some preliminary checks.

"Like I got kicked in her head." She responded, shying away from the light being shone in her eyes.

"From what I heard, that's because you did." She answered. "So if he hadn't filled you in, you've got a grade four concussion, so we're going to keep you overnight for observation. You've been in and out of consciousness, so we just want to make sure everything is alright."

"Okay." She sighed out as the nurse finished her observations.

"I'll be back to check on you in a little bit." She told her, leaving the hospital room to leave them be.

"So what's the last thing you remember?" Nash asked her, sitting back down in the chair and holding her hand.

"I'm still trying to piece it all together, because I honestly don't remember much after I got kicked in the head. I went through the motions, I remember being on the stage and hoisting the trophy, but other than that it's all pretty blurry." She explained, trying to get her thoughts together from the last few hours. She had no idea what time it was, but given that it was dark outside, she missed all the celebrating with her teammates in the locker room, getting to experience Budweiser being sprayed around the room and dumping the rest of their cooler on Benstiti. "What time is it?" She finally asked.

"About ten o'clock." He responded after looking at his watch.

"Shit, how long was I out?" She asked quickly.

"You were in and out between four and five, but when they did the MRI and what not, they gave you a sedative that knocked you out so the lights would not agitate you so bad." He explained, and she took in a deep breath and sighed.

"Why don't you go home and sleep, Cowboy." She told him, squeezing his hand.

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself." He responded with a chuckle, and she brought his hand to her lips.

"Nash, I'm probably gonna go back to sleep for the night, and you've probably been sitting in the same spot for the last seven hours. Please, go home, take a shower, sleep in a bed. If not for yourself, do it for me." Samantha explained, trying to convince him to go get some rest, and her last sentence was the one that made him sigh, giving in to her request.

"Fine, if it'll make you happy. If you need anything, call me, alright? I'll see you in the morning and I'll bring you a change of clothes." He told her as he stood up, planting a kiss on her lips. "Sleep well."

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