Once Upon A Crime

Chapter Three

NOW

7:13 p.m.

Mom is not in the room when I wake up. According to the nurse who is bustling around, I am not to speak. I have lost all movement in the lower half of my body, only temporarily, apparently, a gash in my head that has oozed so much blood someone had to donate. I have major abrasions all over my arms and chest, but other than that, I am fine.

"You'll be fine, honey," the nurse reassures me. As if that is what is bothering me right now. "Dr. Keith will be in."

That jolts me out of my musing. My father is not a doctor. He is an artist that--

The door is flung open and a tall woman with bright white hair steps in.

I try to move my neck, but she hurries forward, heels clacking against the tiles.

"Hello, Victoria, I'm Dr. Keith," she tells me.

Oh.

I blink. She smiles gently and places a clipboard on the desk next to me before perching on a chair, a bird about to take flight.

She is a pale yellow in my mind, kind and caring, and altogether a sympathetic person.

"I should start," she says. "By saying that you are a very lucky girl."

I take back my statement; she is an ugly brown-onyx.

"Lucky?" I parrot.

How does being strapped down to the stretcher constitute to lucky?

"We'll remove the straps soon. You were thrashing so much, we had to pin you down," she informs me.

I blink again, dumbfounded, and the door opens again. Mom steps in, scrubbing her eyes furiously.

"Hey," I whisper softly, as if she is fragile, as if she may shatter at any second.
Someone else follows her in, but my attention is captured by Mom's haunted eyes. I swallow and try ineffectually to reach out to her.

The stranger loiters near the door, his dark head bowed over his phone. I furrow my eyebrows. There is something distinctly familiar about the shape of his shoulders, but I can't place him.

Mom leans forward and kisses me on her forehead, green eyes dark with tears. I glance away from the guy quickly.

"Hey," she whispers back.

"Okay," Dr. Keith says. "I'll let you both catch up later, but we need to run some tests, Victoria."

"Vi," I correct immediately, and then I flush. "Sorry."

She smiles gently and Mom exhales loudly. "It's okay. It's nice to know you're responding so quickly."

The way she says those words makes me want to shake her and tell her to stop treating me like I'm done for. But I stay silent, and she pipes up again.

"Tell me, Vi." Another crinkle of her eyes as she smiles. "Do you remember what happened?"

"At the accident?" I am playing dumb, because I cannot bear to tell her that I know Mom hit me. As if on cue, she emits a choked cough.

She nods, and I take that as my signal to furrow my eyebrows in thought. The action immediately brings a sharp twang that resonates through my head and I attempt to smoothen my face out.

"I--" I falter, searching for words that will soften the blow for Mom, but she is furiously digging through her purse and pretending not to hear me. I get it out quickly. "I was walking and, um, a car...hit me?"

Mom sniffs again, louder now.

"Okay," Dr. Keith says brightly, a complete contrast to the sniveling woman next to her. "Did you cross the street, or were you about to? How did you not see the car? Do you remember that?"