The Death Date

chapter thirty-four

A ring of white light slowly blossomed over my field of vision. It spanned until it disappeared, leaving in its path a distorted image of developing color. Sounds streamed in too, mumbled and foggy. My head felt heavy as though it was made of cement; it seemed impossible to lift.

Was I dead?

I must be. I had to be.

As the images and sounds cleared, so did my physical awareness. Tingles erupted down my body like being submerged in hot water with freezing limbs. A groan echoed from my throat just as a face overtook my sights.

"M-Mom?"

With hands clasped against her mouth, she released them to enclose my face. "Oh, honey. I was so scared." Tears dripped onto my skin. "I'm so happy you're awake – that you're okay."

"What – what h-happened?" I asked with a voice like gravel.

My mom laid a trembling kiss on my forehead. "You were in a car accident, Delia. A bad one – you were unconscious when... when the ambulance picked you up." She choked. "They brought you straight here, and they've been doing all these tests – oh, I was so worried." She started sobbing. "But everything checked out, honey – everything's fine. You're going to be okay."

With senses returning, a whirlwind of questions filled my head, which suddenly ached terribly. I dug a finger into my temple and squinted, but through the pain, I asked, "Did I – did I die?"

My mom's face was veiled in white. "What? Why would you ask that?"

"Did I?"

"Delia," she said, "Did you... was this not an accident?"

Her question stunned me. My death date had been written in stone since I heard it, so, by that definition, it couldn't have been an accident; however, my mom – my vision gradually clearing to expose her distress – wasn't asking that question.

"Mom, no," I said. "Someone hit me. I remember seeing their lights coming from the passenger window."

Shoulders relaxing, she sighed, "Okay. Okay. I know. I'm just – your question startled me."

"Mom. You didn't answer – did I die?"

With the back of her hand smoothing my cheek, she said, "No, Delia. You were breathing when the ambulance picked you up. You were just knocked out. They rushed you here after." She continued rubbing my cheek. "Just some bruising and a deep cut."

That didn't make any sense. I must have died. Why else was I alive now? My death date had to be correct, it simply didn't take into account my returning. My situation was like Warner's, and now he and I had something else in common. That had to be it. It had to be.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes, honey. I'm sure. You've been alive this whole time." Her eyes crinkled. "Why are you asking this? You're worrying me."

The white ring returned across my vision, except this time, it moved in the opposite direction. I must have died. It was the only logical explanation. It didn't make any sense. I was supposed to be dead.

Just then, a man entered the room. His ebony skin was highlighted by the teal scrubs hanging loose over his spindly frame. A clipboard rested inside his armpit.

"Welcome back, Ms. Wright." He smiled pleasantly as he approached my bed. "I'm Doctor Reinhardt."

"H-Hi," I said.

His eyes were the exact color of syrup, golden and warm. My palms tingled briefly, but I rubbed them together and pushed the feeling away.

"We're happy to have you back. I'm sure your mom's told you by now that you were in a car accident," he said, withdrawing the clipboard. "A pretty bad one. You're very lucky." Glancing downward, he added, "You were unconscious at the scene, and then were brought straight here. We ran some tests, and everything came back normal. You only suffered a concussion. Again, you're very lucky." Hepressed a finger against his forehead, "Painful?"