Things Do Get Better (HTTYD Modern AU)

Not The Same Again

They say you get use to the darkness when you get older. The truth is you don't. No matter what kind of darkness you're in, you can never get used to it. Especially the kind where you have no idea whether you would get out of it or not.

I don't know or remember how long I was in this... darkness. A pitch black of nothingness, surrounding me, with no sign of a way out. I was scared. Scared that I would be stuck there, never leaving. I wanted to scream. I wanted someone to hear me. I wanted to get out. I didn't... want to die.

Then, I remember I opened my eyes. I was met with bright lights, piecing through my eyes that I had to blink many times to adjust to them. When my visions finally became clear, I realised I was looking up at a ceiling. A very white ceiling with many lights (no wonder I almost went blind). After that, I heard beeping noises, which sounded like a heartbeat. I then realised I had an oxygen mask over my face.

It was clear now. I was in the hospital.

I tried to turn my head, but a full shock of pain erupted my body, causing me to make a painful grunting sound. I started to breath heavily again since the pain brought me back to when I was trapped between the car. I tried to calm down, but it didn't help that the heart monitor was going haywire.

The noise alerted the staff, and it wasn't long until a female nurse came around to check up on me, managing to help me breath slowly. As she was checking up on me, I noticed that I had a lot of tubes, sticking out of my arms. Making small attempts to move my head, I saw I wasn't the only one here. There were other people, lying on beds.

"Where... where I am?" I asked, with my throat being so dry that my voice came out as raspy.

"You're in the recovery room." she told me.

"I... I had... surgery?" I didn't know what had happened from the moment I passed out, so the possibility that I had surgery while I was down and out concerned me.

"Yes, you did. I wish I could tell you more, but your father insisted on telling you himself."

My eyes grew at the mention of dad. "My... dad? Where... is he?" I demanded.

"He's not here yet, but I believe he'll come. He has been for the past 3 weeks."

"3 weeks?!" I exclaimed, which didn't help the pain as I winched. The nurse managed to relax me again.

"Don't worry. Everything will be explained to you, OK?" she said. I wanted to know answers now. About what had happened to me, but I knew there was only so much doctors and nurses could do.

I simply nodded in response, to which she smiled before continuing with my check-up. Once she saw everything was fine, she let me know. I thanked her before she left, leaving me to myself. Normally, I appreciated the fact that I was alone, but today was not that day. I didn't want to be alone. I... I wanted to see my dad, and that was something I would rarely say back then.

I felt tired, so I closed my eyes, feeling a bit assured that I would be able to open them again. Hours passed, though I didn't know for how long. I heard talking, both from the staff and patients and the sounds of footsteps as I slept.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt a hand being placed gently on the top of my head. I didn't immediately open my eyes... until I heard his voice.

"Hiccup? It's me." He was whispering, probably not wanting to alert me so suddenly, but despite that, he still had that loud voice I was so used to. And that was the voice I wanted to hear the most. I slowly opened my eyes and right next to me was the large figure of my dad.

"Dad? Is that...?" I couldn't finish my sentence, for my tears didn't waste any time to fall down my face. There was no use in hiding them, but I didn't care. Fighting through the pain, I managed to wipe my tears. I could tell by his expression that he wanted to hug me, to conform me, but he knew it probably wasn't a good idea. Instead, he carefully pushed some of my hair back that was drenched over my face. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked me.

I sighed. "Despite the pain that might actually kill me, I think I'm OK." I answered. I was surprised to see him smile at my response (I guess he appreciated my sarcasm for once). That did make me smile as well, but that quickly felt away.

"What happened to me?" I asked. My dad's eyes were shifting back and forth, afraid to make direct eye contact. That could only mean something bad happened to me. My heart sank at that idea, but I didn't say anything until he did.

Finally, he looked at me in the eyes and told me everything.

"I could ask you the same thing. I was at home when I got a call with your name. I picked it up, but the person speaking was not you. It was an ambulance worker. They told me that you were... in an accident. Drunk driver, driving out of control and... crashed into you. I rushed to the hospital, but they said I couldn't see you. Only... after your operation. You stayed unconscious for almost a month after that."

It was a lot of information to take in, especially since I just woke up and my brain was hammering at my skull so much. After I managed to process everything, there was only two questions I wanted to ask him. Questions that I desperately needed answers to. 

"How's Toothless?" I remembered that he was there and the last thing I remembered was seeing him run after the driver.

"He's fine, don't worry." My dad assured me. I was relieved. I can't imagine a world where Toothless isn't in it.

"But... his prosthetic leg was broken during the accident." Now I was slightly annoyed. Not at Toothless obviously, but that prosthetic leg was my crowning achievement and now it was gone.

"So, do I have make a new one or...?"

"No, no. I already made an appointment for a professional fitting." he said. (I guess he didn't want me to go through the hassle of building it again).

Then, the second question. The one I dreaded to ask.

"Why did I have surgery?"

My dad sighed and I could see that he was tense as he was biting his lip. "This... isn't easy to say. So... I'll just say it." I appreciated that approach, but it would make things worse. But what other choice was there?

There was silence between the two of us, but not the awkward kind (thankfully). He took a deep breath. He looked at me straight into my eyes. 

"They... had to amputee your leg."

I think time came to a halt when he said that. It felt like my surroundings had suddenly crumbled around me and reality came back to my mind because as he said that, I had a funny feeling that... something was missing. My leg... was gone. He was right.

Without warning (to him or me), I burst into tears as the realisation came flooding in. I tried to stop... but I couldn't. I could actually feel the pain from my leg, which was the initial pain I felt. It was too much for me. It was the worst feeling a 15 years old could ever experience.

After a while, my dad fully explained to me what happened – when the car pinned me, it caught my left leg, crushing it. When the paramedics came, they did manage to free me, but they feared my leg wouldn't survive. And they were right. X-rays showed that my leg was crushed to such a degree, that simple surgery to fix the leg was impossible. So... they had no choice... but to amputee it.

It was so much to take in in one moment, and it was only the start of a painful but fulfilling recovery for me.