Disorientation

Chapter Three

"The swelling's all cleared up now. Just remember to take those antihistamines the second you notice any symptoms in future." The doctor flashed a friendly smile as she snapped off her latex gloves and disposed of them in the bin.

I nodded, wincing at the ache in my jaw from having my mouth open for so long for a thorough inspection. Mum puffed out a sigh and shot a glare at Riana, who remained by the door with a troubled expression.

"I'm checking the ingredients next time," she practically hissed at her.

"It's okay," I muttered, patting Mum's hand. "Honest mistake."

"It could've killed you."

I shrugged. "I'm still here." I slid my gaze to my older sister, feeling immense adoration despite my near demise. She mouthed 'sorry' for the hundredth time, and I smiled, mouthing back, 'I forgive you.'

The doctor finished scribbling notes on her clipboard and led us back to reception. After Mum submitted my details, along with other things I zoned out from, we travelled back home in her car. The ride was silent. Riana insisted on staring out the window while Mum's eyes caught mine in the rear-view.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah. The tablets helped."

Her face instantly relaxed. "Good."

"Am I allergic to anything else?" I asked, not wanting a repeat of that hell.

"Just garlic."

Once we arrived home, Mum insisted on helping me out of the car. I told her I was fine, ignoring the slight ache in my thighs, but she encouraged me to lean on her as I climbed out the car. Riana darted to the other side of me, hoisting me out of my seat and onto the pavement.

"I'm fine, guys," I mumbled. With all the extra help, I was beginning to feel like an invalid.

Mum tutted. "I saw you wincing when we got to the hospital. Don't act proud."

We reached the front door and Mum expertly used the keys with one hand to unlock it. They helped me over the threshold, and Mum almost raced to my wheelchair when I cleared my throat.

"I'm going upstairs," I said.

"I'll help you," Riana offered.

I shook my head and pulled away, hobbling to the bannister. "I got it." I felt their eyes on my back as I pulled myself up the stairs one at a time. Doctor Smith informed me I'd have good and bad days. It annoyed me I comfortably walked around the day before, and had now (ironically) taken two steps back.

Once I reached the top landing, I heard Mum berate Riana. I shuffled to my room and shut the door, flopping onto the bed and sighing heavily. I could hear their back-and-forth from here. Riana had made an honest mistake—a temporary lapse of judgement—but Mum, who was already overprotective of me, refused to let it go.

After a moment of lamenting my sad life, I changed into my pyjamas, dimmed the lights, and turned on the TV. I nestled in bed with a yawn and turned the volume up slightly to drown out Mum's irate voice.

I got sucked into Britain's Got Talent, something I remembered watching in my past life. Not that it made me happy in any way—Britain does not have talent. But the familiarity of the show warmed my heart. Finally, a piece to a puzzle, although small.

"Erica," someone whispered.

Bolting upright, I peered around, confusion clouding my brain and my thrumming heartbeat deafening my ears.

"Ay, Erica," came the voice again, followed by a light knock. It came from my balcony door.

"Hello?" I said loudly, sick with unease.