FROSTBITE | S. Rogers/B. Barnes (FINISHED)

Ice Blue

Images of a tall man in blue clouded Janie's mind for the next four days.

Things slowly began to come back. Faint sounds of whispering entered Janie's ears from time to time, accompanied by the unmistakable beeping of a heart rate monitor and footsteps from all different directions. She knew she was awake because she could think, but no matter how hard she tried, her eyes simply wouldn't open. It was as if somebody had taken a bottle of Elmer's glue and used it to secure the lids together.

Even though her eyes were closed, Janie could see light coming into the room she was in, indicating whether it was day or night. Shadows that accompanied the voices near her would sometimes dance behind her eyelids and she wanted to reach out to them and touch them, but she couldn't even lift a finger. She was just so heavy like she was stuck in a coffin filled with cement.

She could feel pain, a lot of it, emanating from every part of her. It hurt to breathe, hell, it hurt to think, and the throbbing in her left leg didn't feel like it was going to pass any time soon. She wanted to cry out, and ask the nurses who checked on her throughout the day for more painkillers, but her vocal cords wouldn't do what she wanted and she found herself unable to speak.

Janie really did try. She attempted to open her mouth, but all she managed to do was vibrate her lips. She was just so damn tired, too tired to do anything useful but lay there in her cocoon, waiting for something to snap her out of this awful dead zone.

It wasn't until the lights dimmed on the fifth day that she found the strength inside her to finally look up, opening her left eye slowly before doing the same with her right. She was already expecting to be in a hospital. The smell of sterilization, rubbing alcohol and dying flowers (dying people) had been inside her nostrils for at least three days and she knew that smell better than anyone. She'd been smelling it on her mom since she was born and had taken it for herself when she started her internships in various hospitals around the city. It wasn't a smell one could just simply get used to. It was always accompanied by something ominous (death around the corner).

Hushed voices flooded Janie's ears and she immediately shut both her eyes. She tried to steady her breathing to keep her heart rate low as best she could. She didn't want anyone to know she'd woken up just yet. She needed a moment to herself, to collect her thoughts. To rationalize everything that transpired, before she'd inevitably be bombarded with questions she didn't wish to answer.

"Please," a man said, "These are from her father. I promised I'd give them to her. I had to work late."

"I'm sorry, sir. Visiting hours are over and since you have no familial connection to the patient, I'm afraid I can't let you in." Janie's nurse - she recognized her voice - told him sternly. 

"I," the man stammered a bit, "I'm her fiance, you can ask downstairs. Please, just for 10 minutes."

A moment of silence. The shuffle of feet.