The Bronze Arrow Project

Chapter 2 - Ava

I woke up to voices surrounding me. They were too loud. There were too many of them. I wanted them to melt away, back into the sweet, savored silence. They were almost deafening, but I couldn't understand what they were saying.

"Patient is nearing consciousness," one reported.

"Good," another voice replied, "Someone go get some water for her. She'll be thirsty when she wakes up."

I heard a door open and close, probably someone going to get the patient some water. I wondered, for a brief moment, who it was and if they were sick or injured, but decided that ultimately, I didn't care.

I began to open my eyes, seeing only white. It was blinding, and I squeezed my eyes shut, gratefully returning to the darkness.

"Turn a light off!" A voice barked, and I winced. Too loud. I heard the faint flick of a light switch and cautiously opened my eyes. I had trouble processing my surroundings. My mind was hazy, like a thick fog had clouded my mind. Every thought that passed my mind was just barely out of reach.

The first thing I saw was the color white, flooding my entire field of vision. Then, as figures came into focus and I could make out the shape of objects, I saw that almost everything was white. White walls, white tables, people in long white coats, and white blankets on top of me. The next thing I saw were the tubes that were attached to my arms, depositing some type of liquid into my body.

A beautiful tan woman gently sat on the foot of my bed, taking her spot down by my feet. Her long, brown hair hung in a braid, and her deep brown eyes gazed at me kindly, "Good morning, sweetheart," she smiled, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I replied, my mind still not completely attentive and alert yet.

She nodded, "Someone's going to get you some water. That'll help. You're likely a bit dehydrated. We've been trying to keep fluids in you, but," she sighed, putting a hand on her forehead, "That's kind of hard with a comatose patient."

I shook my head, "I was in a coma?"

She nodded, "Somehow, a chemical or something in the bullet wound caused you to go into a medically induced coma. We saw this in the other patient that survived the shooting, as well. She woke up a few hours ago, from what I believed. You were in the coma for about five days."

"What?" I asked. Suddenly, everything started coming back, and I found myself deep in the memories of that fateful day. 

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We were huddled in the corner, packed like sardines and as far back as we could go. I held my friend Christie to my side, both of us shaking. Silence hung through the air like the decoration to some sick high school dance, and the air was thick with the terror that held us all captive. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dead quiet, a sound as lethal as the machine that had caused it split the air with a crack. At the sound of the gunshot, Christie let out an ear-piercing scream and burst into tears, clutching my arm like a lifeline. I felt my own heart rate increase, pounding against my chest like a hammer.

I was going to die.

Suddenly, the door opened with a thud and light from the hallway flooded the room. In its place was a monster of a man, a mask making his face impossible to see. He held a large gun, and when he raised it up, I heard another scream. At the time, it hadn't registered that the scream had come from my own mouth. Then, bullets flying, and then pain. Then came the darkness. 

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"Ava?" I felt a hand gently shaking my shoulder as I came back into reality. The tan doctor looked at me with a concerned face, "Honey? Are you alright?"

"Where is Christie?" I asked, "And all the others?"

Her mouth pressed into a firm line, "I'm- Ava, there's no easy way to tell you this."

The realization suddenly hit, and I felt my stomach twist in ways I didn't know it could, "No. They can't have-"

She shook her head, "I'm sorry, honey. You were a miracle. There were only two survivors, and fate chose you. I don't know why, but-" She shook her head once more, "I'm so sorry."

"Who is the other?" My voice came out flat, unmoving, emotionless.

"Samira Ammar," she replied, "She was in your grade. Did you know her?"

I recognized the name, but no face or person could come to mind. I sighed, "No. Are you sure-" I didn't even finish the sentence before I was engulfed in tears, my head in my hands. The pain was so much worse than I'd ever experienced. All of my friends were gone, how would I ever recover?

I felt a warm, gentle hand on my shoulder and looked up to see the doctor. She gave me a small smile, "I know it's hard, honey, but you can do this, okay? You've got a lovely family waiting to support you."

I shook my head, "Just leave me alone, please," I hid my head in my hands while sobs shook through my body. 

I felt the extra weight on my bed vanish, and a few soft words. Then, I was left alone. I couldn't believe it, my best friend was dead. I was alone.