Fighting to Survive

Chapter 3

        Why is every ceiling white? It's the first thing you see in the morning when you open your eyes. Instead of it being some magical art work you see in a fancy museum. It's a plain white box that has no purpose.

          "Skylar? Can you hear me?" A white light flashes across my eyes. I close my eyes quickly at the harsh light. "Responsive."

             "Skylar?" A soft voice calls out. I open my eyes to see my mother hovering above me. Her light eyes filled with concern and worry.

               Something cold touches my lips. I try to look down, but I couldn't see. "It's water," she tells me. I hesitate, opening my mouth. The water goes down my throat soothing the dryness.

                "I'm sorry," I cough out. She presses a button on the bed which pulls the bed up. I'm now in an sitting position. In front of me is my mother and a man in a white coat. He must have been my doctor.

                I watch him as he moves back and forth around the room. A clipboard in his hands with a pen in his grasp. "Does anything hurt?" my mother asks.

              "My throat," I rasped out.

              "That's to be expected. Anything else?" she asks. The doctor turns to me awaiting my response. I make eye contact with him.

                 "My head," I say. The doctor looks down at the chart he held.

                   "Well there's good news," the doctor begins. I glance at my mother to see her gripping the railing of the bed tightly.

                   "She wasn't raped. They found no residue of semen or anything of dna besides her own," the doctor speaks. I blank out after hearing the first phrase.

                 I felt like I was locked in a dark box. I stared blankly at the wall ignoring my mother's gaze. Their voices starting to distort in my ear. "Skylar?"

                  I snap back to see my mother hovering over me. I glance to see the doctor wasn't in the room. "Honey, I understand if it's too much right now. But tell me, how are we doing?" she asks laying a hand on my own. I stare down at her warm hand. It made me feel like I was cradled in her arms like I was when I was younger.

                     "I do-I barely remember what happened. I just remember the feel of his hands. And two faces," I confess. She leans closure to me. Her hand reaching up to push hair out of my face.

                     "We are aware what happened. Your father is already prosecuting the man responsible," she confesses. I glance over to her with teary eyes.

                      "How did you find me?" I ask.

                       "When you didn't reply to my call I got worried. I tracked down your car using the gps installed in it. I found it at the gas station. At that moment I knew something wasn't right. Moments later I received a call that you were in the ER," she confesses. I watch her eyes become foggy and wet. She was barely holding it together.

                       "Wh-who found me then?" I stuttered. I felt completely broken. My mother was in shambles before me. Just looking at me was enough to cause pain. I knew I wasn't a pretty sight. I could barely open my eyes. My head hurt despite the strong medication I felt like I was on. It hurt to breathe even.

                      "The man who lived in the room you were in. He was going to go in it only to discover you and that man. He was able to pull him off and knock him unconscious. He brought you to the ER immediately," my mother says soothingly.