i received a request from @thatter100 the other week and got to work with some of the ideas given to me. i'm not sure it's exactly what was in mind but i hope you like it regardless!🫶🏻
it's kinda got a bit of everything, hopefully you'll see what i mean🥲😌
i always say it but thank you so much to anyone whose ever supported me n my writing. i love u
(of course this is fictional and doesn't depict something that actually happened. lolz)
King's College Hospital, London
"This is Mark, Mark's twenty-three years old," The female paramedic's voice is hardly audible.
"He was on the roof of his friend's mansion when he fell or was pushed - police are on it - and he landed on the soil-y bit in the garden."
The dirt-filled scrapes on his face won't let him forget.
"When we got there he was on his front, responsive and able to talk to us, albeit not very much. He complained of intense pain in his rib and tummy areas and was having a little bit of trouble breathing; he's had oxygen as well as eight milligrams of morphine intravenously."
He tries to open his eyes fully.
They don't seem to want to.
"And no other issues with us."
"Okay." Breathes the trauma consultant.
Even she sounds perturbed.
"Hiya, Mark." She puts her hands on the bed railing. "I'm Joan. Myself and my team are going to be looking after you, okay? You're in the ideal place right now."
He'll never remember her face. Not completely.
Vague recollections of softness will remain.
Presently, he can't take anything close to a deep breath.
His chest feels like he's been punched ninety times by Howard.
A broken cry escapes muffled from underneath his oxygen mask.
He barely recognises it as his own.
"It's alright, darling. I know you're scared. I would be too."
"... Am I..." He speaks falteringly. "Am I gonna die?"
But he isn't sure he believes it.
Everything happened so quickly.
It was supposed to be a normal day. As normal as it could've been.
Yet here they sit - crammed into the back of a taxi in the middle of London traffic.
"This is fucking shit." Robbie bounces his knee hard.
All of this is his fault.
That's what the tabloids will say.
"You don't need to add to it." Replies Gary quietly.
Robbie shoots him a look.
But, for once in his young life, he keeps his mouth shut.
Because Mark would want that.
"We can all argue later," Says Jason, not quite looking at any of them. "Right now I'd just like to know that Mark's gonna be OK."
"I got ahold of his parents." Gary adds into the awful quiet. "They're on their way."
Mark is just arriving back from his CT scan when he hears familiar voices.
"Where is he? Can we see him?"
Or maybe he's just hearing things.
The collar that keeps his head and neck in place is removed, and the world around him becomes clearer.
Because he's beginning to understand.
It's not just a little scratch.
Nigel shoved him off of a roof.
A nurse rushes over after hearing him gasp for solid breath.
"My- My chest." He says weakly.
"Hey, my love; the pathology department's asked to take some blood from you. Is that OK?"
A simple blood draw is the least of his concern.
At least until the nurse gently touches the cannula.
Suddenly, the cubicle is full of new people.
There's someone by his head. Another by his arm. Even more by his feet.
"You did really, really well."
He pants in spite of his constricted lungs and oxygen mask still intact.
"Can I... have some water please?"
"Not at the moment, honey. We're keeping your fluids up for you."
Mark's eyes flicker to his right and see the infusion pump in question.
"We've got some medicine in there for you as well. Once you're feeling a bit better, we'll get you a drink."
A flimsy plastic cup still seems to be all he needs.
Somewhere along the M6, Mary's counting the minutes since hearing the news.
"There's been an accident," Gary had said in tears over the phone.
And she'd never heard him cry.
"Mark's going to be airlifted to hospital down South."
Keith had to talk her back down to Earth after she snapped "What kind of bloody accident?!"
Because they both knew that Gary wasn't at fault.
No one was, with the exception of one man Keith doesn't believe will be keeping his head once his wife gets to him.
He's trying to drive as quickly as he can without providing himself with a criminal record.
The roads are long and dismal.
They've heard not a word about Mark.
Stopping for petrol, Mary dials Gary's number once more.
Gary is about ready to light up in King's' smoking area outside when he answers her call.
"Hello. I'm sorry about earlier."
"Don't worry about that."
Both of their voices maintain a similar tone.
"Have you been able to see him yet?"
"Mhm. He's... He's stable."
"Yeah. He's poorly, but he's doing OK for the time being."
Keith exits the petrol station corner shop to find Mary crying again.
Only this time she looks as though every muscle in her body has loosened.
Inside the hospital, Robbie holds Mark's hand like he's trying not to drop a feather.
He's used to clutching. To tight hugs. To big belly laughs.
None of it exists at this moment.
Instead there's dried blood, beeping machines and neverending uncertainty.
"Love you." Mutters Mark, sounding almost childlike.
Robbie kisses his forehead.
Beside them, Howard and Jason sit in plastic chairs.
Jason feels Howard's hand slip into his.
It could've been any one of them.
Mark just wouldn't leave Robbie's side.
Under no circumstances would he ever have done so.
Just then, the consultant Joan re-enters.
"Hi, everyone," She smiles sadly.
Robbie instinctively moves out of the way, but doesn't let himself out of Mark's tunnel vision.
"We've got your CT scan results back, Mark." She comes closer to the bed, but then turns to speak to the others. "He doesn't appear to have any bleeding on his brain or injuries to his neck or spinal cord, which is very reassuring."
"He's got quite a few broken ribs on his left side and we've found fractures in his right ankle and left wrist as well as a stable fracture in his pelvis. This'll all be very painful for him but easily treated."
"You've got this, Marko." Robbie whispers.
"What we're going to want to keep a much closer eye on is some internal bleeding we've found as a result of a laceration to his liver."
He then has to refrain from bursting into devastated tears.
Such big words that don't mean good things.
"In addition to a small pneumothorax and pulmonary contusion. His left lung is partially collapsed and his right is bruised, in other words."
They all look about as bad as Mark does by now.
Gary returns from his cigarette respite to four faces white as ghosts.
"We're just discussing what's going to happen next for Mark." Says Joan. "We'll be taking him down to the Intensive Care Unit to continue looking after and monitoring him there."
Robbie takes his place at Mark's side again.
Mark looks like he could be asleep. But he's neither here, nor there.
"I don't have to say my goodbyes or anything, do I?" Asks Robbie.
"No, you don't." Joan answers immediately. "We have great confidence in that he'll recover. It's just going to take some time."
Ten years later, November 25th, 2005
"I know I lived through it and survived. But I don't have some big dramatic story to tell." A now thirty-three year old Mark Owen tells the cameras. "I don't really remember being in hospital. I know I was in Intensive Care for a week or so and then went onto a ward for another couple of weeks. My life became very bizarre. It was very quiet. And my mum and dad were always there."
On the dark cinema screen are the words:
After twenty-two days in hospital Mark was well enough to go home, but he wasn't out of the woods yet.
"It was months of rehabilitation and trying to put myself back together. In hospital I was told I was looking at three to six months recovery time, but it was probably longer than that. Even when I had my first solo album coming out at the end of '96, I still didn't feel like me."
Nigel Martin-Smith, Take That's former manager, was charged with attempted murder and grievous bodily harm.
He was found not guilty of both charges and was instead convicted for grievous bodily harm with intent.
He was found guilty after brief deliberation and sentenced to twelve years in prison.
"I've never really thought about the "why" of the event. I just know I wanted to have Rob's back when he was deciding to leave the band. And I somehow found myself in an air ambulance."
Martin-Smith was approached for comment and did not respond.
"Even though I don't see us ever getting onstage together again," Mark continues. "I'm eternally grateful I got to know the lads. They're like brothers to me and we still very much care about eachother."
Eleven months later, November 13th, 2006
"Today sees the release of 'Patience'. How fantastic to have Take That back!"
