Heavenly Fire

Chapter 4

Gracie's eye lids flittered and flinched away from the imposing light. Voices echoed around her but sight refused to reveal her companions. The light was so bright, she was sure that if she was to open her eyes the gift of sight would be stolen from her and be replaced with an abominable abyss.

The sounds grew louder. A distant beeping. Idle chatter. Squeaking wheels. Concerning mutters. The smell of disinfectant entered her system and instantly she knew where she was. The hard springs of the mattress dug into her spine and suddenly aware of the needle in her arm, her body ached. Her tongue felt dry, as though water had never passed her lips.

Water. She remembered the icy tendrils of the lake as they reached for her and the pain they inflicted with their grasp. With a pounding in her head, she recalled the dying need for oxygen beneath the ice that the water fought to steal from her.

She was in the hospital.

She had survived.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted with the familiar faces of her family. Her mother caressed her hand with her finger tips and her father leaned in to kiss her forehead. His greying beard tickled her skin as it always had. His chocolate eyes were dark and sullen and his face was wrinkled with worry. Gracie hated to see him like this. This was the face he would wear at the sight of our costly bills.

Josh leaned against the wall, one arm between his forehead and the wall whilst the other rubbed nervously at his jaw. At the sound of her parents rumbles his eyes darted to his best friend and his sick green eyes relaxed and returned to their emerald sparkle.

"Gave us quite a scare there, McIntyre." He sighed with relief strolling over to her bed side and reaching for her free hand.

He squeezed her hand lightly and she weakly tried to return the pressure, but her body felt too weak. Her stomach growled with ferocity but the thought of food made her gip.

"Sorry, Lynch." She whispered hoarsly, each word scratched against her throat.

"Shhh, it's okay sweetheart." Her mother soothed stroking her hair lightly. Her mother's eyes were soft and inviting, a gentle blue like the sky on a summers morning and dark brown curls fell to her shoulders.

"Aaron?" Gracie cried. "Is he okay?!"

Josh recoiled with the sound of his name and hatred sparked through his eyes. His jaw locked and Gracie could see how hard he was trying to suppress his anger.

"He's fine." He spoke through clasped teeth.

"He's not woken up yet." Her father said simply, no care or hatred his tone. Just fact. Mark McIntyre was an honest man, not one for delaying the truth when it was needed to be said. He prided himself on his nobility and encouraged his children to act similarly.

"But he's alive!" She stated rather than asked. The room nodded to her delight and she let her body relax the best she could in the dingy hospital.

She could hear the rasping coughs of sick patients and the pleasant laughs of those with good news. A thick white curtain was drawn closed around her little square of the ward where her family stood. Her section was very dull with her cot pressed against a sickly green wall with a pale lynol floor. A simple wooden night stand laid closely to her right side, where Josh had been standing, with a simple lamp. Her mother sat beside her in the only chair in the room, white and frail the chair looked as though it was ready to collapse under her mother's slender frame.

"Can I go see him?" Gracie whispered softly, daring not to be heard but wishing she was. She could sense her best friends rage. She noticed his glasses were gone and his black hair fell across his face, the tips just stroking across his thick lashes. It wasn't fair, Gracie thought, no guy should have lashes that perfect.