Like Gold

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I SIT IN A BED OF WHITE, fluorescent lights only contributing to the dull pounding in the back of my head. My mouth is dry, like it's been stuffed with cotton, but somehow the metallic taste of blood lingers.

I'm not sure if it's a result of my busted lip or my nightmares stained with screams of red.

My heart is still pounding from the dreams that plagued my sleep, and I'm not entirely sure where I am for a moment.

For a moment, the white lights of the hospital look a lot like car headlights and I'm there again, trapped in metal like I never left.

I'm vaguely aware of the people around me – doctors speaking in hushed whispers, pretending I can't hear them. My parents, casting worried glances in my direction. Piper squeezing my hand, begging me to look at her. To say something.

I can't.

All I can see is Amber. Her twisted arm. Blood dripping from her face, mixing with tears. Her lips, barely moving.

All I can hear is Amber. Her screams. The way she sobs my name, asking if she's going to die.

All I can remember is my voice. My lies.

Telling her we'd both be fine. We'd both make it out together.

If I think I'm all cried out, I'm wrong, because tears begin to well up all over again and streak down my cheeks. Piper wipes them away, as she has been doing all week, but more flow over the edge to quickly replace them.

A part of me thinks to sit up and take her into my arms. Let the sobs wrack through my body until exhaustion finally drags me back into my nightmares and I can see Amber again.

But even if my legs worked, I don't want to.

I don't want to close my eyes and see the flash of lights again. I don't want to see Amber and hear my lies rip through her screams. I don't even want to cry – not when I was the one who survived. Not when Amber isn't here to cry with me.

So, I suck in a shaky breath.

My tears stop.

I sit in my bed of white and I try to imagine a world where last week never happened.