Chasing Innocence | ✓

44 | fragmented pieces

There's a crack in the ceiling's plaster. It runs the length of the hospital room. I follow it with my eyes as it reaches the window.

I think the nurse is asking me questions. Her mouth is moving but she shouldn't waste her breath. I can't hear anything over the static ringing in my ears.

My legs hang over the hospital bed as I look away from the ceiling. I'm a stark contrast against the vibrancy of this room, covered in blood that isn't my own.

My clothes are sticking to me, caked to my skin. I stare at my hands as they shake. I feel the way his fingers were entwined with mine for the last time. How his grip had loosened before he went quiet forever.

"Rhea?"

It's the nurse. Her voice is muffled as she approaches me. She's holding a tray of unappealing food. Even if I was hungry, I doubt I'd keep anything down.

"The police wanted to ask you a few questions, but I told them you're not ready," she whispers, placing the tray beside my bed. "We want you to stay the night for observation."

I look down at my arm, noticing the sling. My arm doesn't feel sore, but my heart makes up for that.

"You dislocated your shoulder," she says. "We suspect you have a concussion too."

I hadn't been knocked unconscious, but there are lapses in my memory. I don't remember getting here. I don't remember who is even speaking to me, although I'm sure she introduced herself.

"There are some people here who'd like to see—"

"No."

I don't recognise my own voice. Someone else may as well be speaking for me. It's raw and cracked, barely audible. For a moment I wonder if she's even heard me.

"Okay," she nods. "I can tell them to leave if you'd like?"

I'm staring at the ceiling again. The crack seems to have grown, but that isn't possible. Not unless the roof is about to fall down around me.

"I want to be alone," I whisper. It hurts to swallow but I endure the pain of my damaged throat.

My own screams will haunt me in my nightmares. The endless blood and the lifeless body in my arms as I panic, knowing that inevitably, the world will lose yet another good soul.

"Okay," she says kindly. "Would you like me to help you to the shower first? I've got a clean gown here for you, and some shampoo and conditioner. Some really nice soap too."

I hate that she's being so nice. It only makes this so much worse.

Tears sting my eyes and I know that it won't be long until I can't breathe. My chest rises and falls rapidly and I dig my hand into the sheets beneath me.

Tentatively, she wraps an arm around my good arm. She waits patiently for me to stand up from the bed. When my feet hit the floor, I wonder if I'll be able to stand up on my own ever again.

I hadn't noticed the officer standing outside my door, leaning against the window. "He's just here to collect your clothing for evidence," she reassures me. "You are under no obligation to speak with him right now."

Bile rises up my throat as we move across the room slowly. She's talking to me about something, but I'm not listening. I focus on getting to the bathroom and I don't let my mind wonder off.

She turns the taps, her hand dangling under the water as she feels the temperature. I should tell her that it doesn't matter, that it could be scolding hot or freezing cold but I don't feel anything right now.