As We Lost the Light

XVII.

My head was pounding, the pain was so immense. It was worse than any hangover I had ever had. My entire body hurt. I could practically feel each individual muscle, straining beneath my skin. My mouth was so dry and my throat felt like it was closing in on itself; it was practically impossible to swallow.

"Why isn't she opening her eyes?"

Why isn't who opening her eyes? What is going on? I felt like I couldn't move, like I was trapped. I tried to move, I tried to wiggle my fingers, but I couldn't tell if it was working.

"Just give her some more time. Sometimes it takes a while." What takes a while? What in the hell is going on?

I felt a hand in mine, squeezing gently, and I squeezed back, at least, I think I did. I couldn't be sure.

"Sadie, honey, open your eyes. We're here." Mom? I tried to do as I was told, but my eyelids wouldn't budge. It was as if they were glued shut. There was a loud beeping flooding my ears, the sound so shrill that it was physically painful.

"I thought you said she would wake up?" Dad? Wake up? Was I asleep?

"Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, it's different for every patient. Some people are quick to come to, others take a little while longer. How about we step out into the hall for a moment." Patient? What in the hell is going on?

Silence fell around me once again, well, except for that incessant beeping; it seemed to be keeping time with my racing heart. I tried once again, with everything in me, to open my eyes. And this time it worked.

The room was stark-white, the lights hanging from the ceiling were so incredibly bright, and I squinted, trying to adjust as my retinas burned. I had no idea where I was or what was going on, other than the fact that I hurt. Everywhere. I tried to swallow, but my throat was still not cooperating. I shifted my eyes downward and they focused in on a white tube, a white tube that was protruding from my mouth. Just the site of it made me panic and I started gagging. My limbs finally decided to work again and I lifted my hands to the tube, ready to pull it out.

"Wait!" Someone shouted as a pair of hands grabbed mine, keeping me from yanking on the plastic. I continued to gag, my eyes welling with tears. "Can I get some help in here!"

Through my cloudy eyes I could see a figure approaching. "Ms. Thomas I need you to relax." It was the same voice I had heard earlier. "We can remove the breathing tube, but I need you to calm down first." Calm down? How could I calm down when I was choking to death? "Okay, on the count of three I need you to give me a big cough, can you do that?" I nodded my head - I think. "Okay, one, two, three!"

I coughed as instructed and as I did the tube began sliding up my throat. It burned. I felt like I couldn't breathe. But then it was out, I was free, and I sucked in a long breath. My lungs felt as if they were on fire.

"Water," I croaked, and almost immediately a styrofoam cup was in my hand, a straw being lead to my mouth, and I chugged on the liquid, relishing in its coolness. The moment of relief didn't last long. The cup was removed from my grasp and I was being poked and prodded, lights were being shined in my eyes, fingers wiggled in front of my face, hands pressed against my head. The stimulation was too much and I groaned. "Please stop." I had no idea who I was pleading with or what was going on. I just knew I needed a minute of peace. I let my eyes fall closed once again.

My pleading had apparently worked and I was left alone, hearing a few hushed whispers before it was once again quiet. I opened my eyes, trying my hardest to quell the pounding in my brain as I attempted to wrap my head around what was happening. I lolled my head to the side and there, right next to me, was the only person I wanted to see, the person who could answer all of my questions. Vic.

His face held an expression that could only be described as pure fear. His eyes looked hollow, the bags under them more prominent than I had ever seen them, and there was a thick expanse of stubble spread across his jaw line.

"I should get your parents," he muttered as he rose from his chair, turning as if he was going to head for the door. I reached out, my fingers barely brushing against his arm and he paused.

"Vic, wait," I whispered, my voice raspy. He turned back towards me and I licked my parched lips. Before I could ask any of the hundreds of questions that were swirling in my mind, Vic let out a sob and leaned forward, pressing his lips against my forehead. I let out a shaky breath, and the feeling of his lips against my skin was slowing my racing heart.

"God, baby, you scared me," he whimpered. I felt tears on my cheek, but I wasn't sure if they were mine or his. I brought my hand up to his shoulder blade and rubbed the muscles through his shirt, feeling them relax under my touch. He finally pulled away, his thumb coming up to stroke my cheek as his eyes board into mine.

"What happened, Vic?" I croaked again. Vic handed me the water cup, as if he has read my mind, and I took a long drink until there was nothing left. Vic lowered himself back into his chair, his hands grabbing ahold of mine. He removed one of them from my grasp, reaching forward and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"You and Alysha were in a car accident." It all came flooding back to me. The pain. The screaming - there was so much screaming. The crunching metal. Tears began to pour from my eyes; I couldn't stop them.

"Alysha, is she?" I cried, fearing the worst. Vic squeezed my hand.

"She's fine. Just a few scrapes and bruises, but she's fine. The truck - it hit on your side. You took all the impact." I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to will the memories away. But now that they had returned they weren't going anywhere.

"Am I okay?" I asked after what felt like hours, though I'm sure it was merely minutes. I peeked out through hooded eyes and looked around again, trying to asses the damage to my body. I sucked in a sharp breath when I noticed that my left leg was cocooned in plaster. Vic followed my gaze.

"You will be. Your leg is broken. Some of your ribs, too. Your spleen ruptured, you had a collapsed lung. And you," he paused, tears pricking his eyes, "you had some brain swelling. That's why they put you out."

My head snapped over to face him, but the quick movement was too much. Dizziness washed over me, followed by a wave of nausea. I felt like I was going to hurl. "Put me out?" I asked, confused.

He nodded. "Medically-induced coma. To allow the pressure to subside. They wanted to give your body time to recover."

"How long?" I questioned, unsure of what day it even was. My memory was still quite hazy.

"A little over a week," he responded. My lip started quivering as I tried to contain my emotions. Vic stroked my face with his calloused fingers, and I slowed my breathing. "But you're okay. The doctors said you should make a full recovery. You're okay baby. It's going to be okay."