TASTES LIKE LOVE

The Jump-not-so-Scare

The ringing wouldn't stop.
It kept on and on in her head, enveloping her, consuming her.
Every bone in her body ached, and her eyes refused to open.
Let me just rest a little more.

Lauren. Lauren. Lauren, please.
Who's that? They sound familiar... such a warm voice...

Lauren jolted awake with a start.
A blinding light.
A warm hand, clammy with sweat, clasping her own.
A steady sound...the breathing of a sleeping man. Mark.
The beep beep beep of the hospital monitor, and then the dull throbbing of her head, just behind her eyes.
She started to move, thought better of it, and was content to just stare up at the hospital room ceiling, white and unassuming.
So this is why some people go mad in hospitals. The fucking ceilings to start!

She sighed, her memories running through her slowly at first, then faster, as if hit by a tornado. The light humming of her car's engine, then the dead silence, then the cacophony of noises that erupted as the truck slammed into them.
She could still feel and hear the crunch of glass and metal, a horrifying, terrible sound. The smell of blood, so much of it, and the smoke, invading her lungs, suffocating her. She had tried to scream, to call out to Turner-
Turner! Was he alright??

"Lauren," a quiet voice intonated, and she turned to see the tear-stricken face beside her. He was sitting up now, gazing at her with something akin to wonder.

"Hey," she murmured, her voice foreign even to her own ears. Low and scratchy, almost like a CD that had been played way too many times.

"How- Are you in pain?" he asked, pushing a strand of hair gently away from her face, hesitating, then cupping her face tenderly.

"No, I'm fine, I think. I must be under heavy medication because all I feel.."

"Don't talk too much, please. You're still not out of the danger zone yet. They..operated on you, but you weren't badly injured, and they expect a full recovery soon," he explained.

She gazed down at herself for the first time since she regained consciousness, noticing the large bandage across her chest and other minor bruises. There was also a huge bandage on her forehead, and she secretly hoped her face wasn't damaged.

"You're still beautiful," he said, noticing her rather obvious expression. "Thank God," he joked, and she cast him a thunderous glare.

"Turner, what happened...is he okay?" she asked, concerned for her loyal driver, and surprisingly, one of her very few friends.

"He made it. He may need a little bit more time in the hospital with a broken leg and arm, considering he took the brunt of the hit. He's lucid now too and cracking jokes with all the nurses or so I hear,"

She deeply doubted this, as she'd never heard Turner crack a single joke in the entire time she'd known him, and she let Mark know with a creased brow and sarcastic chuckle. He laughed.
"Alright, maybe not ALL the nurses then," he said.

The door opened to let in her presiding doctor and nurse, who did the usual, checking her vitals, assessing her situation, and giving her strict instructions regarding her recovery. She was not to do any strenuous activity, eat certain foods, and stay away from anything that could stress her.
Mark listened in, noting everything the doctor said mentally.

As he left, two police officers in casual attire entered, introducing themselves as Detectives Harding and Peterson from the New York CIU.
"Miss Pierce, we have reason to believe the accident was not actually an accident. After examining the crash we found out the truck purposely accelerated last minute, successfully pushing your car into the curb and causing the accident," the detective said, getting straight to the point.