Salvation : Book 3

CHAPTER 15 : Human

A warm hand brushed the hair away from my forehead as a soothing voice lured me back from the land of slumber. The sweet lilac voice said, "Good morning, my little prince." It was my mother's voice. I slowly drew my eyes open, blinking twice, giving my eyes time to adjust to the bright setting.

The early morning light poured into the room like a waterfall, drenching everything in it's bright luminous glow. I yawned, stretching out my sleep weary limbs. My gaze fell onto the arm chair that had been dragged closer to the bed. In it my father laid sprawled out, his too long limbs falling out of the too small chair. His dark hair fell over his face as he snored softly.

My gaze then shifted to the being beside me. My mother laid with me in the hospital bed, her arm wrapped around my frame as I snuggled into her warm embrace. She cupped my left cheek, her hands warming my slightly chilled flesh.

"How do you feel today?" she asked me as she reached out for my teddy bear, he was on the edge of the bed, on the verge of falling and she'd saved him. She placed him between us and smiled down at me.

"Better," I told her, wrapping my small arms around the stuffed animal.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said pulling the blanket up to properly cover my body and hers, "because you've just been discharged. We can go home now."

"Really," I said as my whole face lit up. My stay at the hospital had only been two weeks long but I'd been itching the whole time to go back home. It was almost thanksgiving, my auntie Jess was coming over to visit and I didn't want to spend another holiday in the hospital. My mother nodded as I hugged her tightly. I was going home.

.......................

"Dad?" I asked as I blinked twice. Seated on an arm chair across the room with his head in his hands was a figure that looked suspiciously a lot like my father's. At the sound of my voice he rose his head, confirming that indeed it was my father.

His eyes widened for a bit as he stared at me. "You're up?" He said, the lilt at the end made his words sound more like a question.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked as I struggled to sit up. My limbs were sore and weary. The task proved too straining as I winced and slumped back onto the bed. My father rose from his seat, coming closer to me. He pulled the blanket back onto my body, egging me to stay put.

"You've been out for about three days," he informed me. His deep baritone voice came out hoarse and strained. He looked exhausted.

Now standing closer, I could notice the purple bruising around his sunken eyes, the disheveled clothing and the messy crow's nest on his head. My father looked nothing like my father. He looked a mess, utterly different from the meticulous business man that had always presented himself to me.

"I thought you'd never wake up," he confessed.

"I'm fine," I told him, giving him a small smile. My body might have ached like hell, my head was pounding like I'd been hit over the head with a frying pan and my body might have been covered in bruises, cuts and burns but I was fine. I was fine because my father was standing in front of me. A man I thought I was never going to see again was standing in front of me. He was alive, he looked sleep deprived but in the moment it didn't matter because he was here. I was here.

"I'm home," I said as I furrowed my brows. I looked past the blankets, to the book shelf that was propped on the other side of the room, right across from my four poster bed. I peered to my side where the bay window was, the curtains were shut, leaving the room in dim lighting. To my left was the shut door to my en-suit bathroom. I was home. I was home home as in back in West Chapel.