Dragon Clans Bk 01 Pt 22
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AngelChapter 5 free porn video
2001
"How are things at university?"
"The same as they were the last time that you asked, which was," Susan looked at her watch, "all of 20 minutes ago."
"Sorry, I never know what to say. I'm so pleased to see you, I just can't say. It's so good to see a friendly face."
"There's been no let up, then?"
"It's not just Angela's mother any more. In fact, my mum says she seems to have toned down her comments now."
"What are you going to do?"
"What I'm doing now, keeping my head down, keeping my nose clean, keeping away from Angela." As I said this, I could feel a distinct sense of unease. I'd become familiar with this sensation over the last ten years, and it could only mean one thing. I shivered and pushed the sensation away.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah, someone walked over my grave, that's all."
Susan laughed and looked at her watch. "Time to go, I'm afraid. I said I'd meet my mum and yours in twenty minutes. We have some serious shopping to get in."
I shuddered in mock horror as we pushed back our seats and made our way out of the food court. The place was seething and a couple sat down at our table almost before we'd stood up. We pushed our way through the throng into an oasis of sudden calm and started to walk towards the place were Susan and our mothers were due to meet. I listened with half an ear to something that Susan was saying about life at university. Up ahead of us, there was a knot of people. I could hear shouting; my sense of foreboding grew deeper and, ignoring Susan, I slipped through the press of people and made my way to the front of the throng.
The shouts were coming from the building society. For some reason, only people approaching from my direction were aware of something going on. I looked in through the windows and could see why; the window displays hid the action if you came from the other way. Some sort of robbery was in progress; it seemed to be going wrong, badly wrong. I looked up to see what I'd dreaded: Angela and her friends approaching, oblivious to what was going on around them; chatting and laughing and looking simply gorgeous.
There was a bang as the door to the branch was smashed open by one of the robbers; he was clearly deranged with fear. Suddenly, Angela was caught in the glare of one of the spotlights that were used for illumination in this part of the shopping centre. For a long moment, she glowed, and I knew at once that it was that time again. Heedless I rushed forward and saw the danger. The robber pointed his gun at Angela and screamed at her incoherently.
For the first time Angela and her friends were aware of the danger. One of them screamed. Angela froze as she caught sight of the barrel of the pistol. Some sort of .22 target gun, I noted absently. I could see his finger curl round the trigger as he took up the slack in it. I half dived in front of him, putting myself between the gun and Angela and pushed her away and to the side with all of my strength. I could see her go down and heard the bang of the pistol almost simultaneously. Angela seemed to fall in slow motion and the crack of the gun seemed insignificant, something like the sound that a toy might make.
I felt a tap on my back near my shoulder. It was almost as if the robber was trying to get my attention so I would get out of the way. For an instant, I thought he hadn't shot me, but then I felt a strange weakness and, all of a sudden, I was falling myself, my legs unable to sustain my weight. The sounds that had seemed muted returned with full vigour and my head reverberated with the screams and cries of shocked shoppers. I felt a pair of hands holding my face and I opened my eyes to see Angela's eyes very close to mine and filled with tears.
"Mark? Oh God, Mark! What has he done to you?"
I wondered why I couldn't feel any pain, and then I could, and I screamed as the wound in my back made itself felt. I could hear Angela shouting that I wasn't to be moved and then slowly, ever so slowly, the scene before me faded to blackness...
The shock of the bullet hitting me was still fresh in my mind as I popped through the last bubble. I thought I knew what was going on now; at least I didn't think there was anything else for me to experience. Even though I was certain that I knew what was coming, I felt strangely calm, which may have been something to do with the inevitability of the process, or maybe it was just inherent in the situation. Either way I was grateful, whatever was going to happen next it was better to be calm than to be panicking and incoherent.
It seemed that I wasn't ever going to re-experience the barely remembered thrill of the first time that I held a girl's bare breast, licked a nipple or saw a pussy. The most feeling that I could dredge up was a mild disgruntlement. I let my mind wander over the last decade or so and I felt content. I'd made a difference. How many people could say that about themselves? Without my intervention Angela would have been dead, disfigured, raped or with a criminal record. I let myself wallow in the good feeling.
Still it would have been nice to remember that time with...
I noticed for the first time that the blackness was looking distinctly grey with overtones of pink. Then I saw a shaft of bright light, at the same time I could hear the sound of someone calling my name. Mentally, I squared my shoulders, and moved towards the light...
Now
"Mark. Wake up Mark." I opened my eyes and blinked, blinded by the strong light that a blurry shape was shining into them.
"He's awake!" The voice sounded strangely familiar. I tried to turn my head towards the voice but nothing happened, so I moved my eyes instead. Another blurry figure swam into view. "Thank God he's woken up!" I blinked rapidly and suddenly my eyesight cleared. It was Susan! Another figure appeared, my Mother!
"Oh Mark..." I could see tears streaming down both their faces. I tried to say their names but all I could manage was a strangled croak. Someone stuck a tube between my lips and squeezed a sip of water into my mouth. It seemed to disappear before it reached my throat.
"More?" I tried to nod and was rewarded by the feel of my head moving. Another squirt, and some of it reached my throat. I nodded again and received a further squirt for my trouble. Eventually, I reached the point where my mouth felt like it would work and I shook my head slightly. The tube was withdrawn. I tried to speak. Again the words sounded strangled and weak to my ears, but the two women smiled and cried as if I'd made them the happiest people in the world. After several attempts I managed to say what I wanted to say.
"Mum, Susan, what happened?"
Before they could answer the first voice interrupted. "We'd rather you remembered as much as you can before we tell you anything, what's the last thing that you recall?"
With much croaking and a few more sips of water I managed to answer his question.
"I was trying to push Angela out of the way of some madman with a gun. I remember someone screaming and feeling like I'd been punched in the back, and then it was just black."
"You were shot. You lost a lot of blood, but you were very lucky, your shoulder blade stopped the bullet from entering your lung, though it did quite a bit of damage in the process. I think we managed to repair most of it. You seem to have healed very well indeed, however you've been in a coma for almost a year. I was beginning to think you were never coming out of it. But these ladies persevered and here you are." The doctor smiled at Susan and my Mother.
Susan spoke first, "You're a bloody hero!"
I shook my head in irritation. "Was Angela all right?"
"Of course. She probably saved your life in return by stopping them from moving you until the paramedics arrived. The surgeon said that moving you in the wrong way might have allowed the bullet to end up somewhere dangerous."
I grunted at that. "I don't see how even Mrs Peters could blame me this time."
There was a half-gasp from the other side of the room. I turned my head and focused on the source of the noise. It was Angela's mother! "Sorry." I wasn't sorry at all actually, but one had to obey the forms, "I didn't see you there."
"Before you say anything that you might regret I think you should know that Angela and her mother have been helping us with our vigil." I nodded; there wasn't a lot I could say. I felt my eyelids drooping. The image of a string of pearls floated into my mind. Oddly they seemed familiar, but even as I tried to concentrate on them they faded from view. The last thing I remember hearing as sleep took me was the doctor shooing everyone away.
"I think that's enough for now; he needs some rest."
I'd been out of my coma for a couple of weeks and today was the day that I would get to sit up on my own. The last fortnight had been a continual round of physiotherapy. Yesterday, they removed the last drip; it was a relief to be able to move both of my arms freely without worrying about dislodging anything. All of the monitoring equipment had been removed. The room looked pretty much like any private hospital room. The door opened and Susan came in, she looked worried.
"Is everything all right?"
"Mark I have to show you something." She took a deep breath, "If it makes you cross, I'm sorry, but at the time I felt I needed to put right some wrongs, and the doctors were worried that you would never regain consciousness, so I wrote an article about you."
"What kind of article?"
She held a folded newspaper out to me, "This kind."
I opened the paper and started to read.
Guardian Angel in our Midst? by Susan Jennings Shot youth still in coma after rescuing same girl 11 times. Today a young man lies in a coma. 6 months ago he risked his life to save the life of young woman, the daughter of his neighbour. Without a second thought he 'took a bullet' as the American Secret Service say. This is an amazing story of itself. However, this is not the end of the tale. 6 months after the Building Society robbery, Mark Connors, 18, is still in a coma. He was shot by a robber while protecting neighbour Angela Peters. Mark's "taking the bullet" for Angela is the 11th time he's rescued her. Instead of recognition, all he got was slander and abuse. Having been neighbour to Mark and Angela since their birth, and having witnessed or taken part in most of the events described below, I feel obligated to tell Mark's story. It seems uncertain now that he will ever regain consciousness, and I am again hearing disparaging remarks against his character, so I wish to set the record straight. 1990 The first incident happened when Mark was 7 and Angela 4. Mrs Peters, Angela's mother, left her outside in her pushchair while doing purchases. When the pushchair was jostled by a dog and began to roll downhill, Mark stopped it. Alarmed by her daughter's cries, Mrs Peters jumped to conclusions and accused Mark of trying to hurt her daughter. 1991 On the same downhill street, Mark prevented a runaway shopping trolley from crushing Angela, taking himself, the brunt of the shock. When she found him holding the trolley and her daughter crying, Mrs Peters deduced he was responsible. This became a pattern. Over the years, Mark would leave the scene of a rescue, even if he had been injured, rather than risk the inevitable tirade. 1992 Mark saved Angela as she fell from the climbing frame that used to be in the local playground. He broke her fall, but at the cost of a broken nose, a mild concussion and a bleeding scalp wound. He told no one of the cause of his injuries. 1993 When swimming in the river with all the neighbourhood children, Angela got caught in the reeds. Mark was able to untangle her and bring her close to shore. Mrs Peters heaped further abuse on him for apparently upsetting her daughter. 1994 This is the first incident I witnessed in full. Angela stepped onto a street just as a car swept around a blind bend. The driver of the car, distracted by a conversation, never saw her. Mark grabbed her and pulled her out of the car's way. Before Mark or I could speak to explain the situation, a weeping Angela's mother berated Mark for injuring her daughter, struck him and knocked him to the ground. 1995 Angela and her friends played a trick on Mark in the local department store, slipping lingerie items into his bag while he was browsing in the bookstore. Mark realised their actions when a guard stopped him, and managed escaping an accusation of theft. As Angela and her accomplices had been caught on CCTV, they would probably have been arrested along with him. 1996 When Mark witnessed Angela and her friends pushing childish experimentation too far and saw Angela drinking half a bottle of brandy, he intervened and tried - successfully - to make her vomit to avoid alcohol poisoning. Covered in regurgitated brandy and half digested food, Mark helped the drunken girl to leave the woods and to make their way back to her house. I came upon them as they were leaving the woods and Mark asked me to 'phone for an ambulance. Unfortunately by now Angela's friends had alerted Mrs Peters and Mark was accused of being drunk and assaulting her daughter. The timely arrival of the paramedics prevented the crowd from lynching him. 1997 Mark protected Angela from serious injury by a falling scaffolding pole. He pushed her from the path of the pole. As a result, he suffered lacerations from the chips thrown up from the paving stones and severe bruising to his shoulder. Unwilling even to attempt to explain his participation in a rescue, Mark was already leaving the scene when I caught up with him and persuaded him that he needed hospital treatment. 1998 Mark intervened when a gang of bullies assaulted Angela. The injuries that she had already received required in-patient treatment. In a tragic twist to the usual aftermath to one of these incidents, Mark received a beating from the gang for interrupting their 'sport' and was yet accused by Mrs Peters of being part of said gang. 1999 When the temporary seating at the local stadium collapsed, Mark was able to catch Angela, preventing her from being crushed, and dislocating his elbow. Despite the pain, he also pulled me and many others out of danger - he was the "mystery youth" whose praises could be found in many newspapers at the time. Despite several weeks in a sling, Mark felt that he had got off lightly, as he wasn't the target of abuse from Mrs Peters. 2000 Seeing Angela slip out of her window at night to meet her boyfriend in the park, and feeling that she was out of her league with the older boy, he followed her. Angela was about to be sexually assaulted, and possibly raped, when Mark interrupted them. She escaped relatively unscathed, but Mark received a severe beating from the enraged 'boyfriend'. Only the intervention of my boyfriend and me prevented a real tragedy. By now Mark had garnered an unwarranted reputation as a troublemaker and a thug, so he received no sympathy for his condition, which kept him bedridden for several weeks. 2001 Today, as Mark lies in a coma after putting himself between a gunman and Angela, that same reputation is causing people to question the truth of what happened six months ago. He can't - and wouldn't - defend himself, so I am doing it for him. Mrs Peters sometimes calls her daughter 'my Angel'; I have to tell you now that, by his actions, Mark has proved himself to be an Angel too, at least in my eyes, and now, I hope, in yours.
Maris
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