Too Close For Comfort

Chapter 3;

:: Authors Note :: This chapter is so short. ;-; heads up: but I will really be updating tomorrow, again. ;-; okay. I love you all. c:

It's dark. Has everything always been dark like this?
My heart's pounding wildly in my chest and I'm not sure if I completely understand what's going on. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, my breath catching. Maybe I would wake up if I held my breath. "You've already tried that," I hear someone tell me and that's when I realized I had been thinking aloud again. Out of instinct, I open my eyes to look for who had been speaking, but what do I find instead? Darkness. Nothing vibrant standing out. In fact, nothing was standing out at all besides the fact that I felt like I couldn't breathe. The darkness, the pressure on my chest, I felt like I suffocating. I gasp for air. Over and over and over again. I felt as though I couldn't get the one thing I needed, the one thing I hungered: air.
The faint beeping I hear makes everything clear to me: I'm in a hospital. There's something wrong. Something is wrong with me. I move my left hand up to my face only to find the cloth gone. Why is everything still dark?
"Aspen, come on honey. You're okay." I hear a familiar voice. Is that my mom?
"Just try and control your breathing, sugar. We are trying to get these chunks of glass removed." Someone else says. It sounds like a lady. I feel pressure in my right arm, causing me to yell out in pain. I try to yank my arm, only to find it being tugged on.
"Miss, will you control your daughter? If she moves it will only hurt worse." The woman's voice stated, obviously getting irritated with me.
"Aspen, Aspen honey don't move. Listen to me, honey. Do you remember what happened?" My mother speaks this time. As I start to cry, everything else in the room begins to stop.
"Aspen, do you?" Mom again. Her voice was more stern this time, however.
"No, mother." I snapped, feeling my cheeks dampen with my tears. "I don't fucking know what happened, okay? Why the hell am I here? I want to go home, mom. I just want to go home." I finished what I had said, my voice falling weak and small at the end of my sentence.
The pressure in my arm started again as I felt a hand on my upper arm. "Aspen, breathe." My mom's voice told me, rubbing my arm with her hand.
I tried to control my breathing. In and out. In, out. In. Out.
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During that first few weeks I fell in and out of a never ending slumber: if I was awake, I still felt like I was sleeping. But I had more nightmares while being awake than I had if I was sleeping.
The words thrown at me were confusing. Something about 'Post-Traumatic Stress, some memory loss, tearing, maybe some numbing. Or even Anxiety Disorder, some head pains, Impulsive Control and Addiction Disorder. Maybe problems with sleeping, numbing, tingling sensations. The list goes on and on, but there was only a few complications with me: I was blind. I am indeed one hundred percent blind. No matter how many surgeries you think I could undergo to be able to see again, that will never change.
I sat on my bed as I held my cane in my hand, slowly letting go of it as I laid back on my bed, thankfully back to the comfort of my own bed and not in those scratchy sheets on the many hospital beds I was on. I listened to the loud thump that came after I released the cane from my grip with a pleasurable sigh. Maybe if I would have lost my hearing instead I would be happier. Maybe if I'd lost something I didn't need, sense of smell or my sense of taste, I would be happier. But my sight? I never thought I could lose that. Sight is something that is something you should be born with and not deprived of.
"Aspen! Are you okay?" Loud footsteps down the hall, quickening with each step, getting closer and closer. There's the doorknob, I can hear it turning. Here comes mom.
"I heard a sound, sweetie are you okay?" She exhaled loudly before I could hear an aggravated sigh leave her lips. "Aspen! Don't do that. You should know better than to allow things to fall by now. I thought we agreed on where you put your cane," I heard her footsteps near me. At the moment, I was very certain she was going to backhand me, but instead what I heard was the distinct clinking of my cane and the ground coming into contact again. After minutes of scolding, mom left me alone with my thoughts.
I can almost hear the crushing and hurtful words that Jesse will scream at me when I make it back to school. Do I have to return to school tomorrow? Next week or next month? Do I have to return to school ever?