Free Torn Apart by Sharon Sala

E.R., sheltered behind a curtain while the chaos in the emergency room continued to swell. He could hear doors slamming, people crying, others groaning. Someone called out for a wheelchair. The woman on the other side of his curtain was praying aloud.
    His body had gone into shock from the pain of the burns, and he couldn’t stop trembling, even though the two nurses who were sluicing his body with a sterile solution were being as gentle as they could be.
    “God, oh, God…give me something for this pain,” Newt kept begging, but the nurses didn’t waver.
    “Doctor will be here soon,” one said. “Just hang in there, Mr. Collins. We’re almost done.”
    “Oh, Lord!” Newt cried out, sputtering and spewing, and batting his eyes madly as they began sluicing them, as well.
    He hadn’t known the true extent of his problem until they had cut off his underwear. Seeing his penis and testicles as swollen and blistered as the rest of his skin, he soon realized there wasn’t going to be any playing going on with Bobby Earle, not until all that healed.
    Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the curtains parted and a doctor walked in.
    “Hello, Mr. Collins. I’m Dr. Luke. I hear you’ve suffered some chemical burns. Can you tell me what happened?”
    Newt groaned. “I was helping at the lumberyard. I fell in a pool of solvent that was meant to remove lacquer and wood stains from furniture.”
    “And it appears you’re quite sensitive to the compounds that were in it,” Luke said, as he began his examination.
    “I need something for the pain,” Newt begged.
    “Let’s see about your eyes,” the doctor said, then grunted with satisfaction as he checked them. “Is your vision blurred at all?” he asked.
    “No, no. I can see fine,” Newt muttered. “It’s just the pain. Oh, God, Doc…it’s killing me.”
    “Mmm-hmm,” Dr. Luke muttered. “They seem to be okay, which is good news.”
    “Yeah,” Newt said. “Good news. What about the pain?”
    The doctor scanned the chart, then looked up. “You have no allergies listed, I see.”
    “I’m not allergic to anything,” Newt said, and then shuddered as another wave of pain swept through him. “Please, Doc…this is killing me. It feels like my skin is on fire.”
    Dr. Luke gave one of the nurses an order, then moved to pat Newt’s shoulder, stopping as he thought better of touching his patient’s ravaged skin.
    “I’m prescribing you some codeine. You’ll feel relief shortly.”
    “Thanks,” Newt said, but he was thinking about Bobby Earle when he added, “how long will it take for all this to heal?”
    Dr. Luke frowned. “I’d say weeks, possibly a month. Chemical burns are tricky. And there’s always the threat of infection. You’ll have to be supercareful and conscious of cleanliness during the healing process.”
    Newt tried to remember the last time the trailer had been cleaned and couldn’t. This could be a problem.
    “How much longer will this take?” he asked. “I need to get home.”
    Luke’s frown deepened. “Oh, no. You’ll need to stay in the hospital, at least for a few days.”
    Newt shook his head. “Can’t. Just give me some medicine and some pain pills. I’m going home.”
    “Mr. Collins, use your head. The town is without power. You will not have water or electricity for God knows how many days. I do not advise it.”
    “I don’t care,” Newt said. “I’ve got things to take care of at home. As soon as you’re done here, I’m leaving.”
    Dr. Luke frowned. He had a room full of patients yet to be seen, and more were bound to be coming as the day wore on. He couldn’t make the man stay, and chances were he would be back on his own, anyway—in worse shape from infection than he was right now.
    “It’s your funeral,” he said shortly, wrote briefly on Newt’s chart and left without a goodbye.
    Newt frowned. So be it. It wasn’t like he could explain that he’d just kidnapped a seven-year-old