Would you call it a family?

Doctor Sameen Shaw

I am still lost in darkness. My eyes were shut through the entire thing. There was a sharp pain on my head and then I felt the blood dripping down my face.

My parents. My parents were in the car with me. I shoot upward and my eyes open immediately. I take in my surroundings: I am in a warm and homey bedroom with paintings on the wall and a lamp on the side-table. I'm in someone's home. I am not in a hospital. Why am I not in a hospital?

I try to speak, but my voice doesn't seem to work. My throat is raw. Water. I need water. And my head is throbbing with pain. I raise my hand to touch the wound I received, but there is a fresh bandage covering it. Where am I?

As if on cue the bedroom door suddenly opens. A woman walks in. She has dark brown hair that is tied back and piercing brown eyes. She's carrying a case. "Who are you?" I try to ask, but I still can't speak. Instead I cough violently. "Don't try to talk," the woman says demandingly. "You'll only hurt yourself more." Her voice is flat.

She starts opening the case, only to pull out medical supplies, a stethoscope included. "I'm Shaw," she begins to explain. I note that she doesn't even offer a smile to comfort me. "Listen to me, I'm a doctor. I'm gonna check your vitals and heartbeat. Okay?" I nod, examining her face for any sign of emotion, but no such luck.

I allow this Shaw to unbutton my shirt and press the cold instrument to my chest. "Take deep breaths," she commands. I do as she says, and although I'm intimidated by her unexpressive presence, I'm also a little grateful that someone in the medical field is looking out for me.

"Alright," Shaw says once she's finished, again with that emotionless voice. "I'll be back in a few hours. Go to sleep." And with that she walks out of the room as quickly as she entered.

This is odd, I say to myself. Who was that woman and why was she so concerned with making sure I'm still breathing? I lean back in bed, and think maybe I'll do what Shaw ordered me to- get some rest. Maybe when I wake up I'll discover this was all just a bad dream. I'll wake up in a real hospital, and the doctors will tell me everything's fine- my family survived and we'll all be out of that place in a matter of days. My eyes start to close briskly, and soon I'm sound asleep.