Secrets of the Gods

Chapter Four

Noise. My ears were filled with useless noise. The sound of footsteps echoes through my ears. The sound of machines mechanically timed ever so perfectly. The sound of sniffles from people I couldn't see. My senses were in overdrive and it was hard for me to differentiate between the scent of sanitizer and the sent of the cherry Jell-O sitting on what I knew would be a moving table. I knew where I was immediately. I don't need to open my eyes to figure it out, it was as if I could sense everything in the room without actually opening my eyes. There were three sets of footprints, one was heavy and the other two were lighter. One male and two females.

But, they aren't the only two people in the room. The scent of lavender perfume travelled through the room, and that's how I know the sniffles had come from none other than Helen Grey-my mother. No doubt her beautiful features would be turned most gruesomely into a frown that could make plants wilt and die. She would hold no concern for me- only for the car I'd left in a river. And that one thought spurred a flood of memories. Every image courses through my head.

Memories. They came flooding back. The sound of violent water, the sound of my screams, the sound of glass breaking, it all came flooding back in a moment of quiet realization. My body, it aches. Everything hurts, and there isn't anything I can do to relieve it. My head feels as though thousands of tiny hammers had created an impact so strong it could bend steel. Even moving to open my swollen eyes was too much for my tired muscles. Yet, it was only an ache. There weren't any wounds I could feel and though I haven't moved I could feel that nothing was truly injured.

I can feel the IV in my arm, and the flesh surrounding it throbbed wishing for it to be pulled out. If I could move then the first thing I'd do would be ripping that thing from my arm, but I can't. I could never stand foreign objects in my body, and even administering needles to me was a difficult task.

Then I heard a voice. "She's lucky to be alive. Anyone involved in such a horrendous accident should be dead."

My mother's heels sounded on the granite floor, and the scent of lavender became more prominent. "She'll be lucky to survive her father's anger. What was she thinking?"

"Mrs. Grey, with all due respect I do believe that your daughter has endured enough for one night," the person I assume to be a doctor says. I can imagine him adjusting his glasses on his crooked nose and shaking his head.

I imagine my mother sweeping her long black hair to one side and batting her long, elegant eyelashes and saying, "You said she hadn't sustained any wounds. She'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me." Her voice is stiff and holds no trace of emotion as she hovers close to the doorway. I can hear her movements so strongly that I know her exact position, it was like playing an intense game of Battleship. "You called me out of court for nothing. See to it that she's brought home safely. I have to deal with that damned car."

I would cry. But, that was useless. It was trivial. There's no need for tears. Maybe when I was younger her cold demeanor would have fazed me, but not anymore. Years of neglect and never being good enough have taught me that feeling sorry for yourself only traps you in a dangerous game of sadness. You let it consume you for long enough, and you eventually lose yourself in the process. And so, I do not shed a tear. Instead, I listen as the doctor speaks to a nurse.

"That woman is heartless," he mutters under his breath- you could hear the disgust in his voice. I understand how people would think that on the outside, but they don't know her like I do. They don't know the things we've all been through, and even if they did, I doubt they would understand. Certain people are simply incapable of understanding what they cannot fathom themselves. It's pitiful how closeminded humans can be.