Of June

20- Hospital Flowers

The feeling of my fingers crumpling the cold sheet underneath drives me back to my senses, somewhat. Sudden pain pulsates throughout my skull and persists, as if something occasionally kept hammering the inside of my head with an unbearable force. I press shut my eyes and try to analyse my surroundings.

There's a heavy duvet spread over my body, and it's warm. The scent of fresh flowers is scattered in the air, but it's overpowered by a strong, bitter stench of antiseptic. Lastly, I'm lying on what I can only suppose is a bed, but where, exactly?

Maybe if I do the favour of opening my eyes, I would atleast get some idea about my location. But the blinding light source directly above and my intensifying headache pleads otherwise. Strained muscles in my shoulders relax, tired breaths making noise as they come out. I want to sleep. . .just a little more.

"Madison?"

A familiar voice calls out, my heart skipping a beat.

I peel open my eyes despite their heaviness, turning my head a bit. Mom's weary face cracks a smile as she hurries towards me, her eyes widened in a mix of concern and relief. Behind her, dad wipes his sweaty face with his hand as he follows mom, and I can tell the redness in his damp eyes even from a distance.

"Madison! Thank goodness you're awake, oh dear. . ." Mom cries as she leans over and pulls me in for an embrace, pressing my head against her chest. Dad joins shortly after, gently patting my head as a form of reassurance.

"You scared us for a while there, Maddie." He mumbles, hugging tight both of us. I'm half-sitting half-lying on the bed, which I realise promptly is situated in a hospital room.

Still numb at the sight of my parents after so long, I slowly push myself away with care and have another proper look at the faces I'd never thought I'd miss this much in my entire life. I can't believe my eyes. . .I'm back. I'm really back.

My breaths get stuck in my throat as a single warm drop falls on my cheek, and before the next stream of tears could follow I collapse back into mom's gentle hold, sobbing silently into her jumper fabric.

"It's alright. . .alright," Mom whispers, stroking my hairs, "You're okay now."

"I'm sorry, mom." My voice comes out rasp and shaky, muffled by her cloth which is now partially wet from my teary outburst and runny nose. "I'm sorry for that night. I shouldn't. . .I shouldn't have talked back like that!" I sniff heavily, my voice drifting to a higher pitch. "I made a huge mistake. . .and I feel terrible for it. . .I know I'm a bad daughter, I swear I was going to apologise. . .but then-"

"Shh," she cuts me off, "It's fine. You don't have to apologise, it was my fault as well, you see. You're our only child. . . yet we barely ever cared about what you really wanted. We're sorry, too."

"Please don't. . ." I blink away the tears, letting silence take over for a good while. "I never did anything. . ."

"You did." Dad replies. "You were born into this world. That alone makes us happy."

A small smile stretches my lips while my eyes are damp and my nose is still buried in mom's chest. "That was so cheesy, dad," I mumble, loud enough to make sure he hears it.

"Hey!" His tone brightens up. "I can say a hundred cheesy lines like that if it means my hero can cheer up a little. Also, I'm not liking the way you're only hugging your mom."

A tiny laugh escapes my mouth. I reach out an arm in dad's direction and beckon him to come join us, and as he does, I realise their collective warmth is enough to deaden the ache pounding in my head earlier.