Bad Luck, Baby

38 - Not Luck At All

Beep... Beep... Beep...

A quiet, constant sound intruded on my sleepy consciousness, drawing me from the warm, comforting darkness and back towards the light.

I resisted its pull, wishing only to sink back into blissful rest, but the sound was unrelenting.

My alarm, I thought, announcing the start of another day and the need to get up and face it; another day of dreary work in the call center under Mr. Walters' disapproving eyes, followed by a few hours of uninspiring classes, homework, and then maybe—if he wasn't too busy—Jamie's somewhat unsatisfying companionship.

Maybe Jamie and I should have a talk. He'd been acting strange recently—more distant than usual, like he always had something better to do than spend time with me.

I frowned mentally. That wasn't quite right.

There was something I wasn't remembering: something about Jamie, and my job, and...

The beeping continued, and I gave in to its call, cracking open crusty lids. It felt like I hadn't used my eyes in ages, and the bright, artificial light that greeted them triggered an instant headache. In fact, my whole body felt strangely abused, and I could barely move. Could I be that hungover, or had Jamie been too rough again? I'd told him...

As I blinked, my vision cleared, and I found myself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling in what was clearly a hospital room. Tubes and wires trailed over me like the tentacles of some horrible medical monster, and the intermittent beeping emanated from a machine of some kind. As the onset of panic brought me more fully awake, a different beeping—fast and high-pitched—sounded an alarm.

Someone appeared at my side—a doctor or a nurse, I guessed—and said something I didn't understand. She pressed some buttons and adjusted one of the tubes attached to my arm, and within seconds a warm languor spread through me like intravenous honey—a drug, I understood—and the darkness welcomed me back with open arms.

❧

The next time I woke, most of the tubes and wires were gone. All that remained was one IV in my arm, an oxygen meter on my finger, and a few electrodes stuck to my chest. It seemed I was in a different room, as well. This one had far fewer machines, and a window let in a wash of natural light. A small table held several bouquets of varying ages, a collection of stuffed toys, and a number of cards bearing variations upon the theme of 'get well soon.'

Being able to count my friends on one hand, I wondered who had brought them all; but as memory re-saturated my brain, all I cared about was the man who sat at my side and held my hand.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said, and smiled.

"Ro."

My voice was little more than a raw whisper, and it felt like sandpaper lined my throat, but it was a relief to know I could speak.

"What happened?"

He moved his chair a little closer and brushed a few strands of hair away from my brow. He looked at me like he saw something beautiful, though I very much doubted I'd want to see myself in a mirror until I'd had a shower, at the very least.

"You saved me, Ellie," he said, "so I saved you back."

I swallowed again and did my best to take stock. Relief flooded me as I found I could flex and move the muscles in my arms and legs, and the only pain I felt was a dull, persistent ache in my chest and back. Lifting the sheet that covered me a little, I saw my torso swathed in bandages, but no sign of visible damage otherwise.

"How long have I been here?"

"You were in the ICU for nearly two weeks," Ro said. "You finally woke up yesterday, and they were able to take you off life support. The doctors are calling it a miracle; but then they don't know you've got a demon anchoring your soul."