Pieces of You

Chapter Nine

Blaire | Before

━━━━━━━

I wake up in a hospital room.

At least, that's where I think I am. The only thing I know for sure is that every part of me hurts as I open my eyes and take in the bright lights, white walls and blue curtains that trail around my bed. A sharp ringing noise echoes around the room, bouncing off the walls and piercing my ears. I blink. And then I blink again.

The sound of my racing heart is muted, sight blurred and memories unreachable. There's a pain inside my head that wasn't there before, but no matter how hard I try, I can't remember what before was. I close my eyes, trying to think back. Images come slow and small; the trickle of leaves grazing against gravel, a feather of fog escaping my lips, and smoke rising in threads towards the sky.

And then, nothing – a darkness shrouding me, covering me completely.

Something tickles the hairs in my nose, and I hold back a sneeze. It's a tube. I tug at it curiously – the plastic is warm and silky beneath my fingers. I frown, running my fingertips along its soft curve. I think I begin crying then, but I'm not sure. My eyes sting, my vision blurs, and drops of warm liquid slide down my cheeks.

But none of it makes sense to me, because Blaire Olsen never cries. 

Wiping my cheeks, I stubbornly ignore the pain digging into me and push myself into an upright sitting position. Maybe I'm not even supposed to move, but if anyone cared enough, they'd be here to tell me. And they're not, so I move anyway.

The thin sheets crinkle beneath me as I shift to get a better glimpse of the room. It's not very big, but private with a view of Berewood Forest. Mom must have dished out, of course. Nothing but the best for the Olsens – even if it is me.

I take a deep breath, narrowing my eyes as I scan the room.

Everything about it seems normal.

A curtain rail runs across the ceiling along my bed and a set of wooden drawers sit just within my reach. A glass window to my right lets in lazy light, and a cabinet that appears to hold locked medicine stands in the corner, made of see-through plastic. It looks identical to one of the hospital rooms in Greys Anatomy, so none of it surprises me.

Except, of course, for her.

With black hair, clammy skin and a frilly blouse I wouldn't be caught dead in, Lena Vashee looks just as pathetic as she does in school. Sat in a dingy chair in the corner of the room, she stares at the floor and then to the door – apparently anywhere but at me.

I frown. Why is Lena Vashee, of all people in Berewood, here?

Where is Anna? Or Megan?

Better yet, why isn't anyone else here to see me? I'd like to think that, despite our differences, Mom would be waiting by my bedside for me to wake. For all that counts, I am her daughter, and if it were Tilly lying here then nothing would make her leave.

But, no. It's Lena. Lena freaking Vashee. A heavy silence stretches between us as I watch her pick at the skin on her thumbs and bite her bottom lip. The material of her blouse hugs tightly at her hips and a flush creeps its way from her neck to her cheeks.

Does she know I'm awake? She must. The mattress made plenty of noise as I moved and it's not like I'm breathing quietly, either. Can she feel my eyes burning into the side of her head?

Or is she ignoring that too?

I swallow, but my throat is so raw that any movement feels like I'm swallowing pieces of broken glass. I'm not sure I could even talk if I tried. My hands start to shake and there's a stinging pain inside my cheek as I vaguely taste the copper residue of blood.