And the sun will rise again

Chapter 1

Have you ever experienced the sensation of your lips feeling foreign, disconnected from the rest of your body? I hope you haven't, for this has been my reality for the past week. The events leading up to this are hazy, but the last memory I can recall is of my boyfriend, Philip.

As I awoke, I could feel the weight of my bruised face, transformed into an unrecognisable aubergine. My upper lip appeared as though injected with a vivid blue hue. Every inch of my body throbbed with soreness. It was akin to a never-ending nightmare, desperately yearning to wake up, only to realise it was a grim reality with an uncertain outcome.

Despite the overwhelming pain, I couldn't shed a tear. My soul felt torn, but the physical agony held me captive. I had no recollection of what had transpired, how long I had been confined here, or even which hospital I was in. To compound matters, the painkillers had ceased to provide any relief. I was trapped in a state of helplessness, unable even to press the nurse call button. It was a wretched feeling, being unable to perform even the simplest tasks independently.

Despite the anguish, I sought to divert my mind and distract myself. Someone had inflicted this unspeakable act upon me, and I couldn't help but wonder about Philip's. Perhaps he also was in the hospital. I held onto hope that he was alive, yearning for the chance to speak with him. My memory of our last conversation was faint. It involved my insistence on something and his subsequent rejection. Then darkness engulfed me, erasing all memories, thoughts, and dreams. All I could surmise was that my head had been struck from behind, followed by a brutal assault that left me teetering on the edge of death.

Suddenly, the door to my room opened, and a glimmer of hope stirred within me. I caught a whiff of familiar perfume. Thank goodness, it was my mother. I needed her desperately at that moment. Her tear-filled eyes unleashed a torrent of emotions within my soul, yet I couldn't even part my lips to speak. My face felt numb, and my eyes struggled to fully open. However, I could hear my mother's voice:

"Oh, baby..." she whispered, attempting to conceal her own anguish, but failing.

I could only observe with limited vision. Needles and monitors were connected to my body, exacerbating my distress. My mother sat beside me, attempting to lighten the atmosphere by sharing the latest news from home.

"Can you imagine Lily taking her first steps yesterday? We were overjoyed," she said, attempting a faint smile to redirect my thoughts. But it proved futile. Though I adored my little niece, her mention only intensified the ache in my heart and body. Would I ever see her again? Would I survive this ordeal? No one had informed me of my condition. Perhaps I was teetering on the brink of death. Death itself did not frighten me; it was the prospect of leaving my mother behind that terrorised my thoughts. I strained to open my mouth, struggling to articulate my thoughts. I mustered all my strength.

"I need painkillers," I managed to utter, my voice dry and feeble. Was this even my voice? I felt as though I had lost a part of myself, my very essence.

"Of course, baby. I'll call the nurse," my mother responded, pressing the call button before settling back into her seat.

My mother had faced her own struggles. Our father had abandoned us when I was five and my sister Emily was nine. The aftermath of his departure devastated my mother. To compound matters, shortly after the divorce, my grandmother fell ill with breast cancer. With limited financial resources to hire a nurse, my mother quit her job and became our grandmother's caretaker. She embodied strength and resilience, a true inspiration for me, showing me the indomitable spirit within human beings. Yet, today, I witnessed a glimmer of despair in her eyes. It served as a grim indicator of the gravity of my situation.

"Will I recover, Mom?" I asked, a sigh escaping my lips.

"Of course, Joe! Oh, my dear, of course you will. Doctor Stevenson assured us that you're progressing well and that recovery will take time."

A nurse entered the room, administering something through the drip attached to me.

"You'll feel relief in a few minutes," she reassured me.

"Thank you," my mother expressed with gratitude.

My eyes remained half-open, rendering my mother's figure blurry.

"Monica is coming to visit you today."

I couldn't respond. Overwhelmed with relief, I succumbed to sleep after the angelic nurse administered her miraculous remedy.

I awoke to darkness outside, my reality once again engulfing me. How could one human being inflict such pain upon another? I questioned everything, including whether I even desired to continue existing. Then, I felt a gentle touch upon my hand.