Mr. Officer

1.

Nobody warns you about how bright hospital lights truly are. I know the movies show it when people are just opening their eyes in the hospital and it's like this portal to heaven with bright shining lights, but I wasn't actually expecting it to be so accurate. 

The lights blind me as I squint my eyes open, trying to gather recollection of where I am and what's going on. As I glance around carefully, it's then that my head begins to throb at every movement I make. I.V. fluids hang beside me. The smell of every sterile object in this room floods my nose. Obnoxious beeping is heard to my right. My finger has a pulse oximeter clamped to it. And my mouth, it feels like I've been stranded in the desert for fifty-seven years. Very specific, I know. I'm sure you would have a dry mouth after fifty-seven seconds in the desert though so I may have quite exaggerated.

"Oh my goodness! Bailey!" I hadn't realized someone was here until just then. My best friend, Sutton, rushed to the side of my bed. She hits the nurse button before grabbing my hand. There are tears forming in the green eyes staring at me. Her grasp is careful, I'm sure she's scared she may just break me. "Bailey I was so scared. I thought I was going to lo....." she chokes back a sob, trying to keep it together.

"Hey." I say squeezing her hand. "I'm right here. I'm okay."

She blinks off the tears and pulls together a pitiful smile. "Do you remember what happened?" she asks. Unfortunately I did. A lot of times in movies, the patient has memory loss and she gets to forget the horrendous moment that has just occurred. Not in this case. Within moments of consciousness I had remembered what got me here. Parker freaking Finch. "I do," I say quietly.

My head is still pounding when a nurse comes through the door. "Miss Thompson, you're awake." She claps her hands together softly and walks over to begin checking over me. She looked to be around sixty years old with her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. I can't help but squint when she points a bright light in my eyes, as if I wasn't already trying to get my full sight back from the previous shining lights. Then the cold stethoscope touches my chest for a moment before she pulls back. As she looks over the screen behind me, she speaks again, "You're looking good, Miss Thompson. Now, I know you just woke up, but the police would like to talk to you about what happened if you're ready."

I wasn't ready. But I guess I have to be. Now is a good a time as any, right? I nod to her and she offers a soft smile. "Is there anything I can get you?" she asked.

"Something for my head," I groan.

Sutton stayed quiet beside me. She wasn't blood but she was all I had. 'Us against the world' I remember her and I saying over the years all the way back to our young five year old selves. Through school, heartbreaks, jobs, and everything else life had for us, it was her and I.

"Good morning Miss Thompson," A velvety smooth voice announced as he walked in. "I'm Officer Jackson Reynolds. Are you feeling well enough to discuss the events of last night?"

I nod. I noticed his golden eyes first, they pierced through me with intensity. His black hair slicked back with just a few strands falling around his face. His once hard expression softened slightly as he took in my appearance. I haven't seen a mirror yet, but I can't imagine I came here looking as good as I did before the crash. Suddenly realizing that, I tried to smooth my hair down as best I could before looking back to him.

"Are you okay with," he nodded in the direction Sutton was standing and then back to me. "She's fine to stay" I say before he can finish. She squeezed my hand softly, giving every drop of emotional support that she could.

"Very well," he begins again. "I don't want to take too much of your time, so let's go ahead and begin."

His arms are like a canvas of artwork and I can't help but look over every design as he grabs a recorder out of his pocket and sets it on the side of the bed. When I look up to him, he's already looking at me, catching me in my act of admiration. "Please state your name and birthday," he tells me after clearing his throat.