Polar Opposites

10 - Hope

It was a miracle. Elora was alive and coherent. However, Soo had been right. By the middle of the night, Elora had gotten significantly worse. She was shivering so violently that the bed shook, sweating profusely, crying out in pain, and vomiting so harshly and frequently that by the end of it, there was nothing in her stomach to expel. It was an anxious time since these symptoms could mean two things: the medicine was purging the infection, or the infection was taking over and she was going to die. Thank La it was the former.

Zokkik had spent the whole night by her side trying to make sure she was comfortable as possible and monitoring her closely. The women had come to release him from his position several times throughout the night, but he had rejected the offer. He wanted to be the one beside her when she woke up – if she woke up. He didn't want her to wake up in a new place all alone again... and he just wanted to be there with her for his own sake. However, there was at least one other healer in the room with him, in fear that he was going to pass out from exhaustion. The chief had informed Soo that Zokkik had no time to rest recently because of his patients and was concerned at how many all-nighters he had been pulling.

It was just before lunch when she first opened her eyes, Zokkik dutifully sitting in a chair beside her bed. His eyes were fixed on the window in the room, and he seemed in a trance like he was sleeping with his eyes open. Elora glanced around the room with just her eyes, not moving any part of her body. She wasn't on the ship. However, she didn't feel scared since Zokkik was in her line of sight.

Elora was quiet for several moments, taking in the beautiful peek of sun rays through the trees and bird songs. She did not know what happened the past few days, but she did know that she had almost died – again. She should really stop doing that. Throughout her fight with death, she had many dreams – or possibly hallucinations – of important moments of her life. Some good, most bad.

In one, she was five again. She was riding in the back of her mother's car being driven to dance class. Her mother and father had been fighting right before they left, and it deeply upset Elora. When they fought, it wasn't just bickering. They would yell and call each other names and they would each threaten to take Elora and move somewhere else. She never knew why they fought, but she knew she didn't like it. She also never brought her feelings up to her parents or anyone else. She just listened and kept it to herself. Her parents never liked it when she was too sensitive – this time was no different. As she fought back tears in her booster seat, her mother scolded her, "You're a big girl now Elora. Big girls don't cry. Dry those tears before we get to your class, understand?" Elora nodded pitifully as she willed herself to not let them drop. She was successful, but she had a big pit in her stomach as they arrived at her dance studio. As she climbed out of the car, her light-up tennis shoes bursting out in color as she hit the pavement, her mother instructed, "Smile big Elora. You have no reason to look so sad. There are kids with real problems in the world." So, Elora did as she was told once more, putting a happy smile on her face as her mother took her hand and led her to the door.

In another, she was twelve, almost thirteen. Her parents' fighting had only gotten worse. They didn't sleep in the same bedroom and hardly spent time together anymore. The only time Elora consistently saw her parents together was during supper. She supposed they continued to try to eat as a family for her sake, but she would have rather them eat separately. The whole time they ate, everyone was on eggshells because a raging argument could start at any moment. Elora would simply leave the dining room and eat in her bedroom anyway when they occurred.