How To Love ✓

40.

Amara

I was met with the noise of sirens and people yelling my name. Where was I? Those words radiated out my thoughts but never touched my lips. Panic engulfed me, but I am restricted to the stretcher. Will she be okay?" I heard his voice ask the paramedic. I was dazed, confused, and barely aware of my surroundings, but I keep my eyes close. Never leave my side races from my thoughts down to my mouth, but nothing was heard. Then, there was complete darkness and my brain went unconscious.

Then I woke up. This time, in a room. The room was silent apart from my heavy breathing and the beep beep sound you often hear in hospitals that indicates you're alive. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before me. I glanced around and took in the deserted, blue and white colour schemed hospital bedroom.

How long have I been here? I shut my eyes, trying to remember what had exactly happened. Then it all hit me with a bang. The memory of it all started to occupy my thoughts.

Who brought me here?

Out of impulse, my hand travelled to my face, pressing the throbbing area on my right temple. I felt a scar and flinched at the pain. I tried to get up. Once I stepped on the cold, white tiles, I instantly fell back on to the bed. My body was engulfed in pain as if objecting my decision to stand up. I laid there pathetically, waiting for the pain to wash away. Staring at the ceiling, illuminated with a white, fluorescent light. Perhaps waiting for some help by the hospital staff was not a bad idea. I still didn't know how I got here, who brought me here, how long I had been here.

It was supposed to be a simple surgery. I had a strange pain in my ribcage and had suspicions that it was my collapsed lung that has been prepared. I knew it was going to happen, I just didn't expect to be alive after it all.

Grace to God.

I hadn't realised that I was extremely thirsty. My tongue was dried up and stuck to the roof of my mouth. I couldn't swallow. I searched the table next to me, quickly noticing one of those water pitchers, hoping that there would be water in it. I struggled a bit and sluggishly tested my grip since God knows how long I had been unconscious. When I touched each finger to my palm and things were working alright, I attempted to sit up. It was a slow, painful process, but I got there eventually. I reached over to the pitcher and thankfully, there was water in there. I downed the water to the last drop and it tasted kind of stale.

Better than nothing, but I definitely needed more.

My series of questions were interrupted as a man walks in the room with a phone to his ear. By his looks and posture, I could have told he was in his late 40's-early 50's. Recognising that I was awake, he ended the call and beamed brightly. "Ah, you're awake! How do you feel Amara?" he queried, and I wish he knew that I couldn't speak due to my dry throat.

I motioned to my throat, hoping he comprehended what I was signaling. It took him a few seconds but then he clicked his fingers and smiled. "I would've expected you to be thirsty. I'll just go fetch your parents and some water for you."

When he left, I leaned back onto the bed. I closed my eyes shut, trying to block everything out. As much as I wished that I could have relied on my brain to help me remember what transpired, I knew I needed the help of others to recall everything.

I turned my head when I heard the door open again and started to cry when I saw that it was my parents.

"Hey honey," she sniffed, hugging me gently as she approached me, not wanting to upset the tubes and cords that were attached to my body.

"Here's the water you wanted," the man from before handed me a bottle of cold water and I instantly downed the whole bottle. I felt relief wash over my body as it hit the back of my throat.