Simpler Things

Part 26: Applause.

4 days past. Everyone of those days I spent beside Megan. She was brought into surgery the first day, to remove and repair the damage from the bullet.
I brought her purple flowers on the first day while she was in recovery. I set them next to the barrage of other gifts set there for her too. I waved to her mother as I entered through the doorway. Her mother was there every hour of the day. The days of recovery she'd held her hand and kiss her forehead every time she left or entered the room.
The third day Megan felt up to telling the detectives and policemen what she had been through, still unable to get through the story without crying. She touched the bandages on her face while she went over the gruesome details. I crossed my legs and listened,
"-Threatened me constantly. Always telling me he wished he didn't have to hurt me, saying it was just to get back at..." she drifted off, not letting her eyes stray. I knew who she was going to say, to get back at my dad.
"It's okay." I forced a smile, correcting my posture. She nodded and began talking again. I leaned back, blocking each word more than the last. The entire events of the past couple months still scarring my thoughts.

I walked down the hall, my sneakers slapping the floor with a satisfying clap. I followed the path I had taken so many times before, heading towards to the stairs and following them down. I stuffed my hands in my pockets once I hit the landing. I pushed the door open with my shoulder after reading the scratched white paint on the pane of glass; Bottom Level.
I walked through the twisting halls, the woman at the front desk pointed the way for me to go, but I already knew. Finding my destination I opened the door slowly. My mother lay there, the beeping of her heartbeat filling the room. I exhaled and walked up to her bed, sitting in the chair pulled next to her cot. I looked at her, and realized in that moment how my father could fall in love with her so easily. Her sculpted cheek bones and full lips were just below her gentle eyes. They weren't open, but I could imagine the warmth they normally gave off.
"I don't know if you can hear me..." I said, my voice breaking the still silence. "A lot has happened." I shook my head thinking.
"I was victimized, put into a damsel's position in this sick story. He hurt so many people; James Cameron, Rebecca Morgan-Ms. M, Cara's father, Jason Wickman, Megan, and worst of all, you. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." My voice almost broke, but I held my pitch. I felt my eyes start to water, I took a deep breath; I was sick of crying.
"I wasn't the only person affected. It felt like I was, but everyone of those people had families. Every person had someone who got hurt worse than me." I shook my head and smiled,
"I realize that I'm not the main character of this imaginary story, they are.
              "And it's funny, I use to be so caught up in who I was, and what I was going to be but that doesn't matter now," I looked down at my hands and back up at my mother continuing, "What matters is you, and Megan, and everyone he hurt..." I trailed off, knowing which direction this was going. Is okay. I couldn't say it though, it was too obvious, too blissful. I hated how ironic it was. I did everything I could to avoid becoming the one who needs saving, the one who put others in harms way. The least I could say it was over. The motor in this destructive engine was dead, and soon to be 6 feet under. I took a shaky breathe, stopping my tears. I looked back at my mother, laying still, the monitor caught my eye. Her heartbeat had become stronger.
              Suddenly, her body raised, her hands pushing against the bed, her eyes wide.
"Oh my god." I stifled a scream from the unseen action. "Mom? Are you okay?" I quickly got up from my chair and grabbed her arm; restraining her from getting up. I pressed the button on the remote next to her bed, signalling for help.
"Mom, you're going to be alright, just breathe." I felt myself smile, she was okay. Her eyes were still opened wide, her breathe still shaking, she looked around. A look of fear continued to flash across her face, when she finally spoke her voice came out weak and raspy,
"Wh-who are you?"
I felt my eyebrows furrow, what was she saying?
"Mom, it's me. Alyson."
She returned another confused look. I pressed the button again, and again.
"Hello! She's awake!" I yelled, willing my voice to echo down the hall.
"Awake? What happened? Where-"
"You're okay, its okay. Don't worry you're safe-"
"No," she said, grabbing my arms, "no,no,no,no." She shook her head rapidly, her eyes still wide open.
I tried to back away, her grip becoming too much but she held on. Finally a nurse rushed in, she had heard the yelling and held a syringe filled with a clear liquid. She rushed over and inserted it into my mother's arm, her grip loosened and she fell back into bed.

I backed away, shocked. What had happened to her, why was she acting like this?

It wasn't Dave Bradley behind this. It was someone much, much worse. I didn't know him yet, but I would; sooner than I could ever imagine.