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Chapter 7

Whoever said that time doesn't exist--that it was just something we made up to calculate our moments or destinations--is wrong.

Time is real. We can feel it, in almost every moment. If you close your ears and listen hard enough, your heart ticks and ticks and is constantly reminding you that everything is measured by time. We're all moving clocks and there's an end to it all and just listen, because you can hear it. It's a part of us.    

Also, time can repeat itself. I've been here before, just in a different moment. I've worn this hospital gown before, but this one is just new, and fresh, and clean.

Last time, I had stitches on the right side of my face. This time, it was on my left temple.

I was drugged to the point of delirium after the first accident, all of my bones were close to snapping. Apparently, this time, they didn't deem it necessary. Disappointing difference.

I was still drugged for this un-baring pain aching through my body in vigorous echoes— just not enough.

When I woke up after the accident, mom and dad were on either side at the foot of my bed, each holding one of my hands as they held each others. They had shiny cheeks, tears ever present on their faces. It took me three days to wake up, and those three days seemed to be the most inconvenient for them. They missed their Brazil trip, but they also almost lost their daughter.

When I woke up this time, only one person sat at the other side of the room. Staring at me, hands clasped before him. And, boy, did he look like he wanted to murder me.

Time is a circle; it's a loop. I've been here before, just under different circumstances.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Ryann?" he asked. It was toneless, yet full of so much meaning.

I tried sitting up, but my body had to pinch itself in a million different places to give me a point. "I believe the sheer will of that death stare of yours was what woke me up. Do you mind leaving so I catch up on my beauty sleep?"

"The jokes end here," he spat, standing. He stepped toward me, and I noticed he was still in his uniform. He must've stayed here all night. "You almost died last night. How could this be anything close to funny to you?"

It wasn't funny, and my sarcasm was a mechanism for this guttural fear punching my stomach.

"Did you find them?" I asked, biting back the pain.

He shook his head in explicit anger, he even started to turn red. The urge to twist into these sheets and sink into the bed was at high volume, but I leveled my eyes to his.

"We're still searching."

Anger began to possess me too. "How hard is it to find them, Adam? They were right there! In the middle of the fucking woods! They couldn't have gone far."

He stepped forward with hot pressure, pointing at me. "The tongue, kid. Send me to hell, but I could not care less right now about your friend, when I find you on the brink of death, bleeding on a rock. So please, have some consideration!" The veins in his neck looked like balloons, ready to pop. His even pale skin turned red, heating me up.    

I huffed out a frustrated breath, wincing at the pain that shocked through me. "I'm sorry."   

"Apologies are worthless at this point, Ryann."

"What else do you want me to say?" I cried. "I couldn't have let them—"

He ran his hands down his face, disappointed in me. "Do you ever think?" he said. "That could've been you. What did you think would happen even if you did catch up to her? That they would let both of you go? Are you out of your mind!"