Maven and Adrianna were like the sun and the moon. Their paths were meant to cross but not to sync eternally.
Both from prominent wealthy families separated by hatred and vendetta, they should've left it at that. But fate has a funny way to let them...
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I still wonder at times, Why me? Have I not been through enough? Was my parents' marriage not enough?
Why?
If Maven and I weren't supposed to end up together, then why did fate let us meet in the first place? Was this the price of being happy? Was this the bargain I should pay?
"Adrianna"
I heard someone say but I was too exhausted to even open my eyes, my lids seem like it weighed a ton. I tried dispelling the brain fog that I was feeling but it was hopeless.
It took everything in me to even try moving my finger tips.
"She's waking up" "Dri, my baby"
I feel as if I'm in a floating machine so far away or in a never ending labyrinth, from a distance, just watching it all through a screen.
My eyes was still shut but I made an effort to lift my arms. I tried but I couldn't.
It was a slow process. The labored air of an old steam engine seemed to seep like muddy water around a blanket of darkness.
The sound slowly transformed into a faster, rhythmic, herding sound with a soft clunk between each wheeze.
A respirator?
The sensation of nothingness overwhelmed. There was no stillness of the cold or the stinging of the heat, only a soft numbness.
I tried to speak - a simple thought.
Where am I?
I had no feeling of chest or throat, no corporal response to guide my effort as I tried to utter words and push them so one could simply comprehend them.
They just echoed in my mind each time I tried to speak them. Then the words throbbed into a primal scream that dropped into a black abyss.
Then once again, I tried to shrug and stretch. My terror was renewed when commands to my limbs seemed to dribble off the end of an old wooden pier into an ocean of nothingness.
There were no reassuring responses from my muscles as I tried to pull ligaments tight across bones or stretch into my surroundings; no protective caress of clothing or warm sheath of sheets holding me to a bed.
It was hopeless when I tried moving but my head felt entirely heavy for my neck. Worse was the pins and needles I felt when I made an effort to move; I still tried to speak but the voice wont form.
"Where am I?"
A hospital.
It must be a hospital, I thought, and felt a slight easing of my anxiety in knowing where I was.
A ventilator. Yes! The sound is a ventilator, and I'm in a hospital.
The anxiety returned with a rush as I realized I couldn't feel the rise and fall of my chest.
