On his second day in the hospital, Yuri decided to admit himself into long-term care. He was proud of the choice he made. Long-term meant for the future. He was deciding there was a future for himself. Dr. Csilla took him to his new room, something more similar to a hotel suite than a hospital bed. He had a nice bed – not a cot, but a bed with a mattress and down filled comforter and a quilt. He had a window with a view of snow covered trees. He had a full bathroom – it even had a tub. There were towels and sheets, and quilts. There was a receiving area for visitors. There was a shelf for the personal effects he didn’t have, and a dresser for the clothes he didn’t have. But it seemed like a nice place. Maybe even a home.
He decorated the wall of his receiving area with his therapy schedule. Dr. Csilla sat down with him to help set reasonable goals for Yuri’s recovery. He had assignments, which excited him. It was a purpose for him. A reason to get up. For all that he complained that Mischa babied him in Solange’s prison, or Anton before him, Yuri liked having a book report due in two weeks. He liked having an on-going art project, or keeping a journal. He attended group therapy, and though he didn’t say much, it felt nice to see other faces, even if some wore gruesome scars. Yuri wore scars too, just not on his face.
Docia – as Nurse Feodocia Blom insisted she call him, had taken him into Moscow the morning after he was an official resident. She said if he was staying, he’d need basic necessities. Kaminski had worked some miracles with the bureaucracy, and delivered Yuri’s identification just two days after they met for his statement. With it was a generous stipend, and promise of back pay for time imprisoned. They’d given him more than enough to get what he needed. Docia treated to breakfast, and over blini and tea, they made a list of what he’d need. It hadn’t taken long to buy toothpaste or pick out a shampoo he liked. It was harder to buy clothes. He’d spent so long in filthy rags and uniforms, Yuri had forgotten what it was to have clothes. He tried things on, had measurements taken, felt fabrics, and suffered the questioning of sales people. It made him uncomfortable, anxious, and at one point, even dangerous, like he might hurt the people just doing their job. His muscles tensed, jaw clenched, and coiled his mind like a viper, ready to strike. Before he unleash a mental attack, he felt Docia’s hand on his shoulder. A calm radiated from her touch. He wondered if that was her vlast’. Maybe it was just him being relieved that someone was there to protect him. Just the same, nice.
Yuri tried not to stay in his room. While he wasn’t the most social patient at the hospital, he didn’t want to be isolated either. He was reading his book in the recreation area, wearing one of the new shirts and pair of jeans Docia had picked out for him. He got distracted easily by a soccer game on the television across the room. He was so distracted, he didn’t hear someone come up beside him.
“How is that book?” A soft female voice asked. Yuri was startled, and hoped it didn’t show. He didn’t want to offend her. He didn’t want to offend anyone here. The girl that surprised Yuri was a small thing. Well she looked that way. Maybe she was taller than she seemed, definitely older than he first thought. The wheelchair made her look frail, but she had to use it. Under her white sweater and floral dress, she only had one leg.
Yuri tried not to stare at her one leg. He tried to notice other things about her. Her nails were painted black. Her hair was dyed a washed out shade of blue, like the first light of dawn, but black at the roots. She had a dimple on her left cheek, but not her right. Her skin was pale but not the same pale white as his. Her face was round, beautiful and with a challenging smile, and her almond shaped eyes were a brilliant amber-gold and sparkled with life. Belatedly, Yuri remembered that he’d asked her a question. “Oh, uh. It’s strange. The narrator is telling a series of just the worse events he could possibly suffer, but he tells it like it’s just a bad day. Like he’s just going to wake up and be behind him.”
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Looking For The Light (Book 2)
ParanormaleElijah's life has been thrown for a loop. His girlfriend left him, he's leaving his home behind, and setting off into the unknown. Doubting his mission and himself, the young telepath struggles with many of the great questions of life.
