Hush, Duckling (a Toby Turner fan-fiction)

Chapter 1: The Accident

“Mom!” Duck screamed, seeing the headlights of another car turning strait for ours. I yelled for him to hold on to something, thinking about him sliding across the seat; not thinking of the worst case scenario. I ferociously pulled the steering-wheel to the left, hoping to drive up Ainaloa with ease; but I was faced with nothing of the sort.

 I felt like everything was in freeze frame; I heard Duck’s scream as the metal was crushed around him. I looked behind me, forgetting the spinning car, the headlights in my face, the immense pain in my foot and my head. I reached towards my son’s motionless body, hoping to see some signs of movement or grab him and run out of the car. I could see only blood and hot metal burning away at the car’s interior through the tears beginning to trickle down my face.

 I don’t know what went through my mind at that time, but I began to claw at the metal hiding Duck’s beautiful face; burning my hands thoroughly in the process. At that I began to sob, and I became aware of my surroundings. I looked at my bloody, burnt hands through the tears streaming down my face. As a final sob escaped my lips, I fell unconscious.

I awoke unable to open my eyes. I felt blinded by the bright lights shining through my eyelids. After a minute or so, my eyes fluttered open. I was in a hospital, plugged into many machines with my right leg wrapped in bandages and hanging from a sling attached to the ceiling. I turned my head to the right seeing a vase of violets. Behind the bedside table lay my father, stretched across two chairs and covered by his coat.

“Dad,” I said to his sleeping figure, “wake up. I’m awake.” I moved to clap my hands but saw that they were bandaged, and clapping them only resulted in a cry of pain. At this he bolted into sitting position, eyes open and alert. After a moment he realized what he was seeing and a pained expression came onto his face.

             “Clem, oh my god you’re okay. We thought you weren’t going to wake up.” He said, moving closer and gently taking my hand, as to not cause me pain. “How do you feel?” he asked me, his eyes full of worry.

“Ok, I guess,” I replied, his eyes brightening as I said it; “pretty numb. How long was I asleep?” I asked. “Six days.” He said, his voice wavering as he said it. “You had a concussion at the accident and passed out… after the surgery, you… y-you went into a coma.”

 I looked at him with tears in my eyes, realizing what he had meant when he said accident. All of the memories were coming back; Duck’s screams, my burnt hands, the hot, twisted metal. “D-did… did he survive?” I asked, voice wavering.

 My dad opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a doctor entering the room exclaiming; “SHE’S AWAKE!” With a grin on her face she turned the corner and mumbled something to an unseen person. Returning to the doorway she exclaimed “Well it’s great that you’re up. A nurse will be bringing you some food in a minute. You must be starving!” As if we were in a cartoon, my stomach audibly rumbled right then. Her and my dad laughed as I thought about turkey and gravy... Duck’s favorite food.

 The doctor must have seen the worry and sadness in my eyes and stopped laughing. Turning from my chuckling father to be she said with a sigh, “I have some bad news, more bad news, and some good news. The first bad news is that in the crash you suffered great nerve damage in your right foot, and we were forced to amputate. The good news is we fit you for prosthetics and they just shipped in today; because you are now awake, we can go through with the attachment surgery within the week.” I looked at her with relief, but her eyes only saddened more-so.

“I have more bad news. I am very sorry Ms. Thompson, but your son did not make it.”