Golden Heart

(30) Not gone yet

Warning: Mature Content for themes around self-harm, violence, strong language, drugs, alcohol and sex will be mentioned in the story.

Golden Heart

Bright lights. That was the first thing she saw. A bright light above her head. At first she thought her time had come. Death was greeting her, taking her with it. She could still feel it, the pain, spreading all over her tired body. She could still see the blood in front of her eyes. And the numbness that had soon stopped all her senses from working. Her time had come. That was her first thought. But then she heard voices around her. A familiar voice, two familiar voices. Two voices that sent shivers down her spine after only a few seconds of consciousness. Two voices that were unpleasant to her ears. Two voices she wished would stop. Those two voices weren't a pleasant thing to wake up to. Not after what she had just gone through, not when the pain was hitting her right back in the face, spreading from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She could feel it invading all her senses, making her want to fall back right into the unconsciousness.

Her eyes fluttered open, blinded once again by the bright light. But the light wasn't above her, it was next to her, on what seemed to be a nightstand. Her head hurt, and when she tried to sit up a stinging pain left her crying out and clutching her stomach only to wince again at the contact. Then the voices around her got louder. Such unpleasant voices, so loud. She wanted them to stop. And soon she saw the faces that belonged to the voices.

Green eyes were staring right into hers, another pair of brown ones following right after. Her father and her mother were staring right at her, suddenly very silent. She looked at them, at first confused. All her memories hadn't come back yet, confusion was all she felt for a second. Then they slowly came fading back in, answering all her questions. Images of blood, of Miles, of Ella unconscious on the ground.

Of Brooks.

She seemed to be in what looked like a hospital. White walls, white ceiling, white floor. Everything was white. But she barely payed attention to her surroundings. Or the unpleasant hospital smell.

"How long have I been out?" She asked, her voice still hoarse. She didn't bother to greet her parents, they were the least of her worries right now. Especially her father, who seemed to have a hard time pretending to be happy about her waking up. Why was he even bothering anymore? Her mother, who she barely got to see anymore, seemed almost disappointed that those were her first words since the last time she had seen them.

"For two hours," her father replied, his voice awfully happy. She gave him a quick look of disgust which he didn't even seem to notice. God, how much she hated to even look at him. It was like looking at him was making the throbbing pain even worse. Like he was sending all kinds of bad energy her way.

"How did I get here?" She asked. She could hear her own voice, sounding even worse than it had a few seconds ago. She raised her hand to touch her neck and winced as her fingers came in contact with the bruised skin. Then she remembered the hands that had wrapped around her neck.

"The search teams found you and the others," her mother replied. Alice hadn't heard her mother's voice so long, she barely recognised it when it came out of her mouth. So soft, calm. But she associated it with a mother that had abandoned her child and left to the maids. And no matter how soft and calm her mother's voice was. No matter how soothing it may have seemed. She still hated her mother for what she had done. And just the sound of her voice made her want to scream at the top of her lungs and tell her to leave and never come back. "You were unconscious. And...there was blood on you. You got shot."

"What were you thinking?" She heard her father's voice and looked at him again, his tone now stern. Was that really the question he should be asking her right now? A minute after she had awoken from being unconscious for two hours? "We were worried sick about you. For three weeks you were gone, you didn't call, you didn't text. You didn't even leave a note. And me and your mom had to-"