What the Future as for Us

Chapter 49 - MEMORY

A.N

Hiii, again sorry, the next few chapter are not really fun, let me know if you'll like me to cut this "situation" short or if you like to have darker chapters

I hope you're doing okay,

Enjoy, Byee M

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...NOVEMBER...

Renee's POV

I woke up to the sound of beeping machines and the sterile smell of a hospital room. The lights above me were painfully harsh. Blinking against the brightness, I felt disoriented and confused, slowly remembering the event of last night.

"Max..." I croaked, my voice barely more than a whisper. Panic surged through me as I tried to sit up, only to be stopped by a sharp pain in my ribs and the resistance of IV tubes and monitors attached to my body. Every movement sent a jolt of pain through me, making my breath hitch.

A nurse appeared by my side, her face soft with concern. "Take it easy," she said gently, pressing me back down onto the bed. "You're in the hospital. You've been in an accident, but you're going to be okay."

"Maxine," I repeated, my voice stronger now, fueled by a desperate urgency. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

"Your friend is in the ICU," she said carefully. "She's in critical condition, but the doctors are doing everything they can."

Critical condition. The words echoed in my mind.

"I need to see her," I insisted, my voice breaking as tears welled up in my eyes. "Please, I need to see her."

"I'm sorry," the nurse said, her expression sympathetic but firm. "For now, you need to rest. You've been through a lot, and your body needs time to heal."

I wanted to argue, but the truth was, I was too weak to even lift my head off the pillow. The exhaustion was overwhelming, pulling me back down into a foggy, pain-filled haze.

Time seemed to blur in and out. I had no concept of how long I'd been there or what was happening outside my room. Nurses and doctors came and went, checking my vitals, adjusting my medication, but it was all a distant noise.

But after probably a few hours, or days actually I really don't know. A doctor came into my room. He introduced himself as Dr. Patel.

"You're stable now," he said, scanning my chart before looking at me. "You sustained some serious injuries—three broken ribs, a concussion, and some internal bruising. But you're going to recover."

I barely heard him. "What about Max?" I asked, my voice trembling. "How is she?"

"Maxine is in critical condition," Dr. Patel replied, his tone serious and steady. "She suffered severe head trauma and multiple fractures. She's been in surgery for several hours; she's fighting."

There was nothing remotely positive in his words, nothing I could hold on to. She's fighting, fighting for what ? Her life or the pain ? It could be anything. It felt like the ground beneath me had given way, leaving me suspended in a void of uncertainty.

Dr. Patel left after a quick examination, leaving me in a fog of confusion and worry. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the sting of tears welling up in my eyes. Just as I was trying to gather my thoughts, a nurse walked in.

"The police are here. Can they talk with you?" she asked, her tone gentle but firm.

"Sure," I replied, the word feeling foreign on my lips. "But why do they want to talk with me?" I asked, anxiety creeping into my voice.