Gabriel (Book 1)

Can You Hear Me?

March 25th, 2013

Rosy cheeks and long dark eyelashes.

Blue eyes, like the sea, closed beyond repair. How I wish they would open and

stun the world with their depth and clarity.

Eyelashes that touch her young, chubby cheeks, brushing against them, giving

them a kiss.

Her tiny nose that would crinkle at foul smells, the same one I pretended to

take away from her when she was a baby. 'I got your nose', I would coo, 'I got

your nose'

Her smile which spread to others, and her frown which made others unhappy as

well. Her lips are still, barely parted, no more smiles.

Her long brown hair, lay around her head like a halo. It was soft to the touch,

and wavy like the sea. Only now, like the sea after a storm, there is barely a

ripple, the bounce has gone from it.

Carlisle said we could fix her cuts and bruises, make it appear as if they never

were there...but we can't fix the damage that has been done inside of her. We

can't fix her heart or the fire that races through her veins, we can't fix her

mind and bring her home.

I want her back. I want to be sleeping in the early morning, the white room will

start filling with light from the early morning sun. I am fatigued with worry

and countless nights spent awake, looking at her. My guard is down. I am

sleeping, breathing in. Out. In. Out, slowly. I feel something on my hand and

the sudden, unexpected, movement awakens me. My eyes open to a more than welcome

site. Sophia will be sitting up in bed, her little nightgown wrinkled from

sleep, her blue eyes gazing at me, and that wonderful smile on her face.

'Are you okay, Uncle Gabriel?' She'll ask me in that sing-song voice of hers.

I fall to my knees, thanking God or whoever will listen, and then I wrap my arms

around her, silently vowing never to leave her again.

'I am now.' I would reply.

Carlisle says that we shouldn't get our hopes up, things don't look to well, we

can't expect for her to wake up since others rarely do. But how can he ask us to

give our hope up when its the only thing that keeps us going? Hope is the only

thing we have right now. Hope that she'll wake up. Hope that our family can live

in peace. Hope for a better future. How can he ask us to let go of her when she

isn't even dead yet? I can't pretend she is or ever will be dead. I've lost my

daughter, I can't lose my Sophia too.

I look across the bed to where Jordan is sitting. Eyes trained on her daughter,

hands fidgeting with worry, Jordan is a mother in distress. Her daughter lays in

front of her, trapped in a coma...and she can't do anything about it. I take a

few seconds to observe Jordan. She's obviously distressed, worried, scared.