Speaking of three am, here I am lying on my side in bed with my eyes glued to the wall. As usual, in the dim light from a light pole right outside my window I’m searching for the right combination of bumps, the ones that form a small smiley face on my wall. I run my fingers over them and sigh. I’m really bored and I’m sure that I won’t be going back to sleep any time soon. Maybe I should go for a run, no one would see me if I went this early. My laziness wins out over boredom so I roll to my other side to get a more interesting view. I could watch TV but there isn’t anything on this early in the morning. I roll on to my back and sigh impatiently again. 1…2…3 I begin to count in the hope that it will help me fall back to sleep. I take a few dozen deep relaxing breaths and the next thing I know I am at two hundred but still no sleep or relaxation has found me.
I give up and get out of bed at 3:30. Already in shorts, I throw on a t-shirt and sneak out of the house. I guess I’ll run after all. I pass the hospital with a nearly empty parking lot and That Guy’s with an empty parking lot and darkened windows. Once I’m past that, it’s just houses and neighborhoods.
By the time 9:00 comes around I’ve showered, dressed and been impatiently waiting for a few hours. The first person I see at the hospital in the mornings is Miss Bailey and this morning she doesn’t look like her usual self. Flowers in hand, I walk in with a content smile. “Good morning Miss Bailey.” She looks up and smiles sadly.
“I have some bad news, Ozzie. Marie Noble passed away last night.” Just those words seemed to make the flowers wilt.
“Oh,” I don’t know what else to say, “These are for you.” I set the flowers on the counter but remove one. She knew who they were really for but she didn’t argue, “Thanks Ozzie.” I go up to Sara’s room instead. Her room is well light compared to Marie’s; the lights are turned on during the day.
I take an empty cup from the bathroom in her room and put water and the flower in it. “I brought a pretty flower for a pretty girl.” I say to her as I set the flower on the table beside her bed. “One of the people I visit died last night,” I inform her. “I wish you would wake up. I’ve overheard the plan for you, I’m sure you have too. I surely would love to meet you officially.”
In Sara’s Mind
Glass, that’s what I see when I blink my eyes open. Shattered all over the hardwood floor is the glass from the mirror that used to hang on my bedroom door. It takes me a minute to be able to sit up and eventually to stand.
“Sara,” says my boyfriend, Owen, in a small voice. My head spins as I stand making me groan.
“What happened?” I ask hoarsely. It comes back in pieces. We were arguing, a slap to his face set me up for failure. I was flung face first into the mirror with as much force as he could muster. My eyes widen in horror as the truth dawns on me. I back toward the door where the glassless frame still hung.
“It was an accident. I was just so angry!” He explains but I’m still backing toward my escape. The knob turns in my hand and I’m just about to sprint through the opening when his hands crash into the door making it slam and pinning me to it. “No,” he says angrily, “You are not leaving until you believe me. It was an accident, I promise. I would never hurt you on purpose, baby.”
I suppress a fearful whimper and convince myself that crying will make my lie less believable. “Of course, I believe you, baby.” I touch his cheek lightly hoping that will convince him.
