Painted Gold

01 | premier

Looks of fear and anticipation are etched into various faces of the nurses and doctors as I furrow my eyebrows, unable to grasp the meaning of the words that have just slipped out of Dr. Bauer's mouth.

"What?"

Dr. Bauer, a usually frivolous, lighthearted man, winces at my confusion, his eyes instinctively flitting to his coworkers in search of aide. He doesn't answer.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" I press further for information.

"Lila, approximately six months ago, you attempted suicide via jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. Your body received extensive injures that left you in a coma. It's a miracle you survived," he attempts to explain, avoiding eye contact with me throughout the entire exchange. To his credit, he doesn't stutter nor hesitate to break the news.

His lack of delicacy on my situation would have made his lack of experience obvious if it hadn't already been far too apparent through his baby face. The nurturing, pitying part of me urges me to not snap at him or panic; years of etiquette lessons has had to have taught me better than that, but the mention of the word 'suicide' convinces me to cast away any notion of sympathy or leniency I had for the man. Never once, in all nineteen years of my life, has that term ever crossed my mind in regards to myself.

"That's not possible. I'm sure you're reading the wrong chart. You've probably made a mistake. I would never do anything like that." Perhaps it's pure denial that makes my tone so cold, effective enough to make him flinch.

"I'm sorry, but there are several witnesses who saw the entire thing. Amnesia is common after traumatic events, especially ones that have caused strenuous damage to your body, but I'm sure some memories and reasons as to why you would do such a thing will come back to you eventually," he tries to speak soothingly, but the heaviness of his words make it futile.

"But I'm happy with my life. This just isn't possible. When can I leave?" I ask, still not accepting of the news.

"I understand that you have no recollection of the... incident, but I'm afraid I can't release you until you reattain basic physical function of your entire body and receive some sort of psyche evaluation. You retaining your ability to speak fluently after such a long period of time is a miracle in it of itself," he responds somewhat empathetically, an improvement from his originally panicked tone.

"But I don't need it," I protest. "The evaluation, I mean," I clear up as they give me doubtful looks. The heaviness and weakness of my body leaves no room for discussion when it comes to the physical therapy aspect.

"Ms. Becket, we have already contacted your relatives. They'll be on the next available flight to San Francisco, and then, and only then, will we be able to discuss your recovery plan. Unfortunately, you've been deemed unfit to decide on your own. Until then, you'll be getting hourly check ups, okay?" a nurse interjects before Bauer can bicker with me any further, muttering something under her breath about the incompetence of her coworkers.

"Okay." This time I don't fight back, not wanting to argue with the nurse as I did with the Dr. Bauer. There's a stark contrast between the thin, take-no-BS line that is the woman's lips and the sheepish smile that is Dr. Bauer's usual expression, and I don't intend on testing their different personalities and patience out.

"Of course she listens to the old bat," he mutters under his breath so only I can hear, and, despite the direness of my situation, a barely noticeable smile flashes on my lips for a fraction of a second. Maybe it's my unrelenting denial that allows me to find some humor in the situation.

It's only when they leave that the reality of, well, everything starts to hit.

Being isolated in a room full of comatose patients while you're fully conscious does a thing or two to you in terms of mental gratification, and it is not a good type of thing. The room is dimly lit, enough to offer some sort of solace from the solitude, but low enough where the eeriness of the situation begins to seep in.