Every Cloud (SYTYCW)

CHAPTER ONE

It’s time. I make the decision in an instant, but once made I can’t think about anything else. It has to be now. I’ll wuss out if I wait any longer. My foot presses on the gas and I jerk the wheel hard to the left. One moment, I’m driving along the curvy Pacific Coast Highway in my old, piece-of-shit convertible, two minutes from home, admiring the shimmering waves below, and the next, I’m crashing through the guardrail and sailing through the clear blue sky.

Freedom.

My seatbelt strains to hold me down, my body hovering over the seat, my legs catching on the steering column. Time slows. God must have pressed the pause button because suspended over the Pacific, an eternity of silence wraps around me like a comforting blanket.

I’m free. I close my eyes, certain. This is right. But behind closed eyes, I can see HIM clearly now, my constant nightmare, laughing because he has stolen everything from me. My eyes snap open.

God presses play. Time speeds up again. My car’s valiant effort to remain in the air fails as we hit the water with a splash, probably causing a small tsunami on impact. My body bounces like a beer pong ball between the seat, the door, and the steering wheel before my head hits the dash. Cold, grey, churning water rushes in, tickling the fingers on my left hand.

And as the world goes black, all I think is It’s done.

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My eyes flutter open as a hazy angel beats on my chest with a vengeance. What did I ever do to him? Besides die, that is.

Something jabs into my back and sand stings my eyes. He tilts my chin and his lips press mine firmly. For a split second, I can’t decide if I should be upset that I just shared my first kiss with an angel, or mad that there was no tongue. But then a part of me wakes up, the part that swore I would never be forced against my will again. I try to struggle and flinch away but I’m turned swiftly to my side as I start to cough up the ocean.

The angel is saying something now, but it sounds garbled, like a bad cell connection.  As I fight to cough up Nemo, I try to demand the angel return me to the car, never mind the fact it’s now a submarine, but he just continues to rub my back in a circular motion.

When I’m done, I flop on my back. The angel hovers over me. I smell fresh mint and briny sea. Why did he come? No matter how hard I begged, no angel had ever tried to rescue me before, not when it really mattered.  Staring into the angel’s face, I see his silky lips moving but the words aren’t in sync. His eyes are so pretty. I say the only thing that comes to mind, the only thing that matters. “Let me go. I can’t do it anymore.”  As I lose the battle with consciousness, I hear the angel say “Come on, little sparrow. Fight.”

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The next time my eyes slit open, I’m alone. I groan, my head pounding. Clothed in a flimsy white and blue paper gown and laying on a hard, flat mattress, I turn my head. Across the small room, beige vertical blinds hang in front of a glass wall. Through the slats, I watch a short, stubby woman in blue scrubs rush by while a man in a white lab coat flirts with the pretty blonde sitting behind a computer at the nurses station. Through my open door I can hear the muffled murmur of the PA system, the metallic click of a cart rolling by and the low moans emanating from next door.

Damn it.

I knew before I drove into the ocean, there was a strong possibility I would end up in hell. I didn’t realize hell was a hospital.

How did I end up here?

The angel. It’s a blur, but I vaguely remember a man saving my life. My eyes close for second before slowly opening again. Bastard. Why can’t people mind their own business? I want to put my fist through the wall. Or my savior’s face.