Flying Free

Bad News

Once we arrived at the hospital I had a bandage placed on my forehead where the cut was. I calmly called one of the doctors over, he smiled and walked to me "Um... the bruise on my thigh is really sore, do you think you could get an ice-pack."

"Of coarse sweetie, let's just have a look how bad it is". He lifted up my skirt to a respectable height, just so he could see the bruise. I gritted my teeth together in pain. "Ouch... You've got a big cut here" the doctor informed me, he grabbed a tube of betadine and dripped a little on the cut - it didn't hurt until he rubbed it firmly in to the wound. I gritted my teeth together a breathed heavily in even more pain. Once he had finished 'torturing' I said "I think it was from when my dad pulled me out the window... The cut on my leg."

"Thank you for telling me, I'll go get some tools to see if there's any residue in there"

I was really hoping he wouldn't return. Me and my big mouth. I looked over at mum in the bed next to me, she was still unconscious, at least she was alive, according to the heart-rate monitor but she was bleeding pretty bad, hopefully she's ok. This isn't what I thought mum meant when she said we would be 'starting fresh', yeah 'starting' with 'fresh' wounds and a brain damaged mum - not meaning things to look at things negatively. This one thing keeps turning over through my mind, why was mum staring at me in the car why didn't she just turn or even better just let dad drive the last 30 minutes, what was going through her head?

It had been an hour now, mum was still unconscious and dad had a 20cm cut all down his arm and bruises all over his face - I'm guessing from the air bag. I kind of stared off into nowhere. "Would you like a hot chocolate honey? It's getting a bit chilly" she started to walk of "Oh, um... Just in case could you make one for my mum when she wakes up." She nodded but gave me an unconvinced look, as if she didn't think mum would wake up again. A police man walked in with a clip board under his arm looking very important. He had a glimpse at his clip board then looked back at me and dad. "Scott, Melina and Courtney Cook?"

"Yes" dad replied

"I'm just here to get some more details about the crash". Dad nodded and gave him a hand guest urge to keep going "Um well, just inquiring if your wife, the one driving the car I presume, had consumed alcohol or drugs before the accident?"

"No! She's never had a sip in her life"

"What about drugs?"

"No!" Dad quickly cut in. "I'm sorry sir but I'm finding these questions offensive to my wife!"

"Deeply sorry sir the good news is you'll be able to claim insurance..." He went on about explaining insurance and stuff. After that police man had left him stirred up he had a mental break down again. I had never see someone cry so much, I don't think he thought mum was going to make it. At that moment the speed of he heart-rate monitor was increasing dramatically, nurses and doctors rushed in and we were moved into a different room "mum?". That's all I got a chance to say. Doctors and nurses were repeating 'clear!' And in between 'nothing!', 'still not breathing!', 'I don't think she'll make it!'. I was at the point of marching in their and operating the bloody thing myself. They had given up, they placed their tools down and an Indian man approached us. "I'm so sorry, we were unable to revive Melina, it appears she had severe concussion and four broken ribs, she had a very unlikely chance of survival" he looked down in sadness and drew a tear, he looked to dad, "You had a beautiful wife sir" he gulped trying to hold his emotions "I'm sorry for your loss". As he left, sad was in shock he put his hand over his head and started to howl and cry. I starred at the wall and put my hand over my mouth in disbelief, I couldn't cry - as much as I wanted to - it just would have made sad feel worse. I couldn't believe it. My mother, was gone.