A Minor Technicality [Completed] *Slowly Editing*

Chapter 45 - A Proposal of Sorts

Blythe's POV

My brain felt foggy as it pushed through a cloak of heavy darkness, reaching desperately toward consciousness. A heaviness settled on my chest, forcing shallow breaths from the empty vacuum of my lungs. It was like being underwater, chest burning as you claw your way to the surface to gulp a huge inhalation of air. I struggled, kicking my legs and flailing my arms to crest the top of the dark and briny abyss. Only, my body wouldn't cooperate with my brain, and my limbs refused to budge. It didn't matter how much I yearned for it, a deep, satisfying breath was beyond reach.

Gradually, I began to sense excruciating pain, but I couldn't pinpoint its origin. It seemed that every nerve in my body was aching and urgently seeking relief. Opposing sensations of burning heat and pricking cold fought as my fingers and toes began to tingle. My eyelids were sealed shut, the weight of them insurmountable. No matter how many times I willed them to open, all I could see was redness, as the light from beyond shined through the protective skin.

A loud moan echoed through the cavernous beyond, and I felt sympathy for the poor person who was in so much pain. Muffled voices struck up conversation nearby, and for a moment, my nostrils filled with an antiseptic fragrance. I grimaced at the smell. When I was young, and we would visit my grandfather in the hospital, that odor was always present, and I hated it. The reminder of Paw-Paw's illness caused me to whimper, but my thoughts soon wandered aimlessly, as the fog once again settled over me. The world once again grew silent, and the pain receded, as I once more gave into the pressing darkness that enveloped me like a warm, cozy blanket on a cool, rainy day.

Then next time I neared the edges of awareness, I felt a penetrating ache throughout my body. It wasn't quite as intense as the first time, but my head was throbbing. My eyelids were just as reluctant to open as before, but sounds around me were sharper and more clearly defined. It took several minutes for me to place the soft, steady beeping, the intercom announcements from beyond the room, the uncomfortably stiff bed, and the voices from nearby. This time, when I recognized the scent of disinfectant, I realized almost immediately that I must be in a hospital.

I became aware of the strange pain pulsing in my leg, and when I shifted my broken arm, I know a whimper escaped my throat. Flashes of Michael and the Camelot Motel flipped through my mind like the pages of a scrapbook, and I gasped as my mind pictured the look on Luca's deep brown eyes when he realized that Michael was planning to kill me. My memory beyond that moment was a complete blank, a whitewashed canvas waiting to be painted anew. My chest tightened painfully as I wondered if Luca and Natalie had been hurt trying to help me. I tried to force the memory, but groaned in frustration when the only reward I found was a sharp bolt of pain through my left temple. My heavy eyelids slowly began to blink, and I glanced around the, thankfully, darkened room, and the sudden, intense pain began to slowly recede to a dull ache.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to see her right now, Charlie."

My ears perked at the sound of Farrah's voice.

"What's it going to hurt, Farrah? She isn't even awake yet," Charlie argued. I shifted my head in the direction of the open doorway, but the movement queued the little hammer in my head to start pounding again. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and breathed slowly through the piercing discomfort.

"Luca won't be happy if he finds you hovering over her bed, Charlie." The warning dripped from Farrah's tone.

"Luca can kiss my ass!" Charlie exclaimed. "We have no idea if Blythe even likes the guy, so he can take a long walk off a short pier for all I care. You guys are family, and I might as well be. He's practically a friggin' stranger."

The voices softened but remained heated, and I heard the echoing of high heeled shoes in the corridor. The footsteps paused outside the room, and the hum of conversation increased slightly. The clack of the heels resumed shortly after the conversation ceased, the echo growing louder as a thin woman breached the open door. I froze, staring at the door as I watched the shadows of my mom and dad fill the entrance to my room. They walked softly across the shiny linoleum, but even with her careful steps, my mother's shoes announced each movement. A small smile escaped while I watched my parents' efforts to be considerate, and my mother gasped as she realized I was awake. She rushed to my side, silent tears betraying the strength she tried to portray.