This chapter is also dedicated to Alex Lambright. I feel that, even if he died when I was writing the last chapter, it wasn’t really that fitting, because it was so violent. So I am dedicating this nicer chapter to him too.
I came out of the dark of unconsciousness, my whole body numb. I didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even let my eyelashes flicker or my chest swell from the intake of breath. I stayed this way for a full minute. I never wanted to move again.
That’s when I broke. Pain erupted through my entire body and I started crying. Sobs racked my whole body, and I either couldn’t or wouldn’t stop them, even if it caused even more pain for me.
The cuttings of my hair were all around me. There was a pool of blood under my head and bruises all over my body. My head felt like it was about to split open and my left arm and right leg were at horrible angles. They hurt far worse than the bruises. I knew I had two black eyes and I could feel the dried blood from my nose caked on my mouth.
I suddenly heard yelling and footsteps running towards me.
“Oh my God! Are you okay? Are you-”
I slowly turned my head towards the woman’s voice. As soon as I turned my head she skidded to a halt, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. The girl looked about my age, with brown eyes and straight, shoulder length blonde hair. Her eyes were a chocolaty brown and her sweet features were soft, although her cheekbones were strong. She was wearing black heels and a navy blue skirt with a matching blouse.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, pulling a cell phone out of a small purse. I slowly turned my head back to its previous position. It had hurt to much I coughed, a small spurt of blood expelling from my throat. I breathed out, slow and lingering, and my eyes drifted shut as I fell back into unconsciousness.
~*~
“Mom?” I whisper hoarsely without opening my eyes. “Dad?” I try to open my eyes. But it hurts too much and takes all the strength in my body. Its like everything, my head, my legs, my arms, my stomach, my brain, is weighted down. It takes so much effort to even reach to stay conscious.
“Esther? Oh god… We’re right here honey. Don’t worry.” says a woman . I don’t recognize her voice, but at the same time I sort of do. Its my mother’s, but her voice sounds… different. It is like trying to listen to a badly tuned radio. Louder and softer, scratchy and foggy.
“Excuse me Ma’am. I know you’re family, but I’m going to have to ask you not to touch her. She is fairly unstable right now.”
“I.. Uhh… y-yes. Sure.” my mother stammers. “S-Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” says the doctor, kindly. His voice sounds the same way my mothers does. All over the place.
There is a flurry of activity going on around me. Doctors are moving around around me, bumping into things and occasionally yelling out comments, instructions, and things about me and my condition. There is a constant loud humming from uncountable computers and machines all over the place. It feels like a bazillion different needles are being jabbed into my skin in a bazillion different places and a bazillion different tubes are feeding a bazillion different liquids into my body through these tubes. I hate needles so much. It drives me crazy knowing so many are in my body and just so many are near me at once. If I were able to move, I would be kicking and screaming and making as much of a fuss as possible so I could get those things AWAY FROM ME!
But I can’t. So I have to deal… I don’t like it! I think to myself. So I try to focus on something else.
I try to open my eyes again, which is another impossible and painful effort, so I try to speak again. It hurt a lot. I let my jaw drop just the tiniest bit, and I try to make a sound. I only succeed in letting out a sort of low gurgle.
“Honey?” says my Dad. “Are you okay? Are you trying to tell us something?”
Why is everyone’s voice so messed up?!
“She shouldn’t be able to talk or open her eyes or do anything. But she can hear you. She is conscious right now, but there is nothing she can do. She can give us some signs that she is awake, like occasionally making some noise or twitching her fingers. We rarely get patients who can whisper anything, let alone say anything coherent, like she just did.”
I tried to look on the bright side and make myself feel better. Yeah! Hear that Mom and Dad?! I did something unique and one-in-a-million! I half- joked in my head.
I hear my mother sob a few times and then the scraping of a chair as she (I’m guessing) collapses into it.
“Oh my God… Why? Why my baby?” more sobs resound throughout the room.
I can’t listen to anymore. I just can’t listen to my mother cry so hard because of me and be unable to do anything about it. I tune her out, trying as hard as I can to sleep and ignore the activity going on around me. Finally, a deeper darkness other than the backs of my eyelids comes towards me again. This time, I invite it, embracing it, welcoming it with open arms and I fall into a sweet and comfortable, dreamless sleep.
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