Rossi One: Kian's Little Sky

76. three days

Third Person's PoV

After three days of uncertainty, Sky’s eyes fluttered open. The stark white ceiling of the hospital room greeted her, a stark contrast to the darkness that had enveloped her. She blinked slowly, trying to make sense of her surroundings—the beeping of machines, the antiseptic smell that filled the air, and the soft shuffle of footsteps nearby.

A nurse, clad in pale blue scrubs, was at her bedside, meticulously checking the IV fluids that dripped rhythmically into Sky’s vein. Sky’s throat felt parched, and her voice was a raspy whisper as she asked, “Where a-am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” the nurse replied with a gentle smile. “You’ve been unconscious for a few days, but you’re safe now.”

Sky’s mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that seemed just out of reach. The accident, the ambulance, the desperate whispers for Kian—it all came rushing back in a disorienting wave.

“How long… How l-long have I been here?” she managed to ask, her voice gaining strength.

“Three days,” the nurse answered, checking the chart at the foot of the bed. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness, but this is the first time you’ve been awake enough to talk.”

Sky’s heart sank. Three days without Kian, without any word or sign from him. She turned her head, searching the room for a familiar face, but found none. The loneliness pressed in on her, a tangible weight.

“Kian…” she whispered, the name a lifeline in the vast sea of her solitude.

The nurse’s expression softened, a hint of understanding in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said, adjusting the blanket around Sky. “We’ll help you get in touch with your loved ones as soon as you’re ready.”

Sky mustered the strength to voice the question that had been haunting her since she awoke. “Has a-anyone visited me?” she asked, her voice still weak but laced with hope.

The nurse nodded, her eyes warm with empathy. “Yes, you’ve had a visitor,” she confirmed. “The person you’ve been calling out for in your sleep—Kian. He’s been here, watching over you the whole time.”

A wave of relief washed over Sky, bringing tears to her eyes. “He w-was here?” she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes, he only stepped out a short while ago to take a shower and to visit his sister in another room,” the nurse explained, checking the IV line once more. “But he’s been here every day, making sure you’re not alone.”

Sky’s heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. Kian had been there, despite everything. She clung to the hope that his presence meant forgiveness, that the blame he had once placed on her had dissolved in the face of their shared ordeal.

“Thank y-you,” Sky murmured, her gaze drifting to the window where the light of dawn promised a new beginning.

The nurse paused, her gaze lingering on Sky with a depth of kindness that spoke volumes. “There’s more,” she finally said, her voice a soft echo in the quiet room. “Kian’s family has been here too. They’ve been visiting you and his sister Krizah, taking turns to be with both of you.”

Sky’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and comfort flooding through her. “His f-family?” she repeated, the words a balm to her isolated heart.

“Yes,” the nurse affirmed, offering a reassuring smile. “They’ve been very concerned about you. It seems you mean a lot to them.”

The revelation brought a fresh wave of tears to Sky’s eyes, tears of relief and a dawning sense of belonging. The thought that Kian’s family had visited her, had cared for her even though she knows they blames her too.

“Thank y-you,” Sky whispered again, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you for telling m-me.”

The nurse gave Sky’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re welcome. Rest now. When you’re ready, we can talk about contacting them, and maybe even arranging a visit.”

As the nurse’s words faded into the background, a sudden realization struck Sky like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes widened in horror as she remembered the urgency that had been driving her before the accident. She was supposed to fly back to Canada yesterday—to rescue her mother from the clutches of her abusive father. The thought sent her heart into a frenzy, and panic clawed at her chest.

“I… I need to g-go,” Sky stammered, her hands trembling as she reached for the IV line, intent on ripping it away. “My mom… I have to save h-her.”

The nurse, quick to react, gently but firmly grasped Sky’s wrists, stopping her from pulling at the medical equipment. “Sky, please calm down,” she urged in a soothing tone. “You’re not well enough to travel yet. We need to take care of you first.”

But Sky’s mind was a whirlwind of self-reproach. “No, you d-don’t understand,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “I’m a terrible daughter. I promisedI’d be there. I’m just… I’m just like my dad always says—good for n-nothing.”

The nurse’s expression softened, and she released Sky’s wrists, opting instead to hold her hands in a comforting grip. “You are not good for nothing,” she said firmly, locking eyes with Sky. “You’re here because you survived something terrible. That takes strength. And your desire to help your mom shows just how much you care. That’s not the mark of a bad daughter.”

Sky’s breath hitched as the nurse’s words sank in, offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness of her thoughts. “But I’m not t-there for her,” she whispered, the guilt gnawing at her.

“Sometimes, we can’t be there physically, but that doesn’t mean we’re not doing everything we can,” the nurse replied, her voice a steady anchor. “Let’s focus on getting you better. Then, we can figure out the next steps to help your mom, together.”

Sky nodded softly, the nurse’s words instilling a fragile sense of calm within her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the tumultuous waves of panic and guilt that threatened to overwhelm her once more. With a clearer mind, she remembered something crucial—her lifelines to the outside world.

“My bag… -mmy phone,” Sky said, her voice steadier but still tinged with urgency. “Where are t-they?”

The nurse’s expression turned understanding, and she replied, “Your belongings are safe, Sky. After the accident, the police brought them here along with you. They’re kept securely in the hospital’s property room, following standard procedure for the belongings of accident victims.”

Sky felt a twinge of relief, knowing that her connection to the world beyond these walls was not lost. “Can I h-have them, please?” she asked, a hopeful note in her voice.

The nurse gave a gentle nod. “Of course. I’ll have someone bring them to you as soon as possible. But remember, Sky, you need to focus on your recovery right now. Everything else can wait until you’re stronger.”

Sky understood the nurse’s words, and a part of her knew that her own well-being was paramount. Yet, the urgency to reach out, to make plans, and to take action for her mother’s safety was a powerful force that drove her forward.

“Thank y-you,” Sky whispered, her gratitude evident.

The emotional toll of the day’s revelations and the weight of her own thoughts left Sky feeling exhausted. Her eyelids grew heavy, and the nurse, noticing her fatigue, gently encouraged her to rest. “Sky, you’ve been through a lot,” she said softly. “Try to sleep now. Rest is important for your healing.”

Sky nodded, her body craving the escape of slumber. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the nurse’s advice, but just as she was about to drift off, the door creaked open. Her eyes fluttered open to see Kian standing there, his figure framed by the doorway. His eyes, wide with surprise and relief at finding her awake, met hers, and in them, she saw a storm of emotions—guilt, fear, and a profound tenderness.

Sky’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all her worries faded into the background. The connection between them was palpable, a silent conversation that spoke volumes. Kian stepped forward, his movements hesitant, as if he was afraid to disrupt the fragile peace that enveloped the room.

***
Mary Joye.