It was like being dragged over broken glass. Every inch of Ronnie's body felt as though it was being torn open, the stabbing pains and blinding heat caused her to scream out her agony. Her voice echoed, the primal sound, ricocheting and amplified against the surrounding dull blur of white noise. The pain ripped through her body, it felt like her bones were being torn out from inside her, splintering, piercing through the skin, muscles fraying. Opening her eyes wasn't a possibility, the thought had not even occurred to her, no thought came to her aside from the pain that was all consuming.
A thousand sounds penetrated Ronnie's ears, each too quiet and distant to perceive, mingled to a blend of incoherent hissing and murmuring. Buzzing, voices, waves against rocks. Laughter, a pressure of embrace, weightlessness of being carried. The light cyan of a swimming pool, heat like sunburn on wet skin, lavender, but a heart stopping fear, an overwhelming sense of guilt and disgust. Bird wings flapped, seagulls, darkness, damp, a weight in her arms, warmth, a whine, something so complete, Ronnie's breath hitched in her throat.
Ronnie's fingers flexed and contracted, the nails scraped along something solid, hard, cold, rough, was it tarmac? The air hitting her body was cold, like the chilled breeze of a dark night, when the claws of winter had slipped away, but summer had not yet cradled the world to warmth. Lights burned through Ronnie's eyelids, just a flash. A screech like tyres, a thud, the feel of cotton, a whisper of a smile. A whimper escaped Ronnie's lips, unbidden, unconscious. The smell of perfume, so recognisable, mingled with aftershave, fresh sheets, carpet beneath feet, a cold hand, weight in her arms, so still. The stasis spinning, falling. A jolt and the screech of metal like nails down a blackboard. Ronnie's nostrils clogged with smoke.
A steady rhythm hummed in the ether, Ronnie's mind found focus enough to understand who she was, to know that she was somewhere. She attempted to force her eyes open, fingernails once again scrabbling for purchase on whatever surface they would find. Her senses fought to understand her body in the surroundings, there was pressure against ribs, against one cheek, she was lying on one side. Noises still slithered over one another, muted in shades of grey, as though listening from under water. A crack of light appeared across her vision, her eyelids had lifted a mere fraction. She could feel her own breath, steady and calm. Her body was warm, both heavy and weightless.
As her eyes opened fully, Ronnie pulled herself up onto her arms, her legs stretching out from where they had been curled, knees to her chest. The corridor was dimly lit, but warm, almost welcoming. Each aspect looked familiar, yet the place was alien, unknown. Ronnie brushed her hair from her eyes with an open palm, as she swept her hand over her face the metal of her wedding band brushed against her temple. The crash. It crept into the corner of her mind so slowly and flooded her thoughts all at once. Her hands gripped her flattened stomach, no longer rounded with the presence of life. She had been in the car, she had woken there, Phil and Roxy had been above her, there had been sirens. Ronnie's head fell to her hands, a desperate wail escaping her as she fought to remember, to understand. The wall was cool against her back, her feet were bare. She pulled her hands from her face, the need to know where she was, what had happened, overtook her being. Lifting herself to her feet, Ronnie noticed that she was no longer in her wedding dress. Black jeans, a grey tunic, the knit thick but light, sleeves finishing just below her elbows. Ronnie questioned the clothing, it was certainly hers, though items she had long discarded, not worn for years.
Ronnie steadied herself with a hand against the wall, the brief loss of balance causing the heavy locket around her neck to shift against her chest. She held a palm over it, pressing it in against her heart, her eyes closing momentarily as she inhaled and felt the familiar comfort of her love, her loss, her one constant companion. The last thing she could remember was lying in the car. Nothing made sense, how could she have woken in such unfamiliar surroundings, alone and so out of place? She looked again, more clearly at the room around her. The corridor was small, the carpet was familiar, she tried to place it. An old flat she had rented came to mind, George Street. Light scattered the walls in an odd formation, almost like fairy lights, illuminating the gentle tones, colours she'd been surrounded by in her solace in childhood. Slowly she placed one foot outwards, letting herself move cautiously away from her safety, pressed against the wall. The confusion was terrifying, there were few times in her life that Ronnie had felt so vulnerable, so lost. Tears laced her eyes as the truth fell upon her. She had no idea where she was, how she had come to be there or what was happening. The realisation caused her feet to falter, hand slipping against the wall to clutch at the door frame ahead of her. Noises were still failing to fully penetrate her mind. It was as though the corridor, she was in, was shrouded in a thick layer of water, she could hear voices, but they felt so far away, too muffled to be able to place who was speaking or where from. The sounds didn't seem to have direction, they came from everywhere and nowhere.
Ronnie gripped the door frame more tightly, her fingertips blanching with the pressure. She strained to discern the noises which slipped and slithered over one another. A steady rhythm, mingled voices, a hum and whir of machinery, monophonic bleeping, soft weeping, her name. She could her Roxy, if she closed her eyes hard enough, she could hear the tears shakily whispered from her sister. It broke her heart to hear, but she scrambled within her mind to find where the sound was coming from. Opening her eyes to look for answers, Roxy faded back into the mist of sound, impossible to find. Ronnie closed her eyes once again, praying she could find the voice of her sister again. Tenuously it began to swim into focus.
"Veronica? V?" Ronnie's stomach lurched and a wave of nausea overcame her as another voice sprang to the foreground. Her father. She snapped her eyes open, body twisting, expecting to see his face, his presence behind her, looming over her, pressing against her. But she was alone. Shaky breaths slowed to a steadier pace. A monophonic bleeping invaded her mind, she shook her head to rid herself of the intrusion, it felt too loud, it hurt.
"Mum." It was barely a whisper, nondescript and buried amongst the rabble, but Ronnie heard it instantly and clung to it with everything that she could. The one word, the sound she had dreamt of hearing for almost twenty years, the word she had heard just once in her life, the word so undeserved and yet so longed for. The voice was soft, gentle, tears prickled Ronnie's eyes at the sound she had committed to her memory so long ago. She couldn't stop the smile from ghosting across her lips even as a tear fell to cling on the apple of her cheek. Eyes still closed, she could picture her daughter's face forming the word, the dimples when she smiled, the wide lacrymose gaze that stared upon her so warmly, so innocently and intently for so long.
"Mum?" The sound became clearer, Ronnie could hear her name being spoken softly, she was sure it was Roxy, she knew the voice so well, the mournful, frightened tone, less familiar, but she blocked it out, it was little more than an annoyance when played against that one, solitary word. She could feel her own lips forming a silent response as her daughter's name hung in her mind. She desperately followed the sound, her fingers clutching aimlessly, closing around a handle to the door she leant against for support. The metal felt cold against her skin, a shiver passed through her, what was she doing? Deep down she knew, knew that her daughter was dead, knew that she had to focus on finding out where she was, what was happening, but her desperation for the one dream she had held close to her heart, led her fingers to turn the handle and let the door creak open.
Ronnie took a tentative step passed the opening door. Sunlight peppered the lilac walls with a pinkish hue as it filtered through thin, delicate fabric covering the window. A yellow cardigan, locket hanging from her neck, clasped reverently in one hand, a smile dancing in her eyes, the little girl that held Ronnie's heart in the palm of her hand, sat on the end of her bed. Her wide eyes locked to her mother.
"Baby." Exhaled on a shaky breath, the word Ronnie guarded, so natural, so perfect.
And the constant rhythm ceased.
A/N - I wanted to explore the possibilities of what the coma would hold for Ronnie. Is it real or is it all in her head, in this story, it doesn't really matter! I'm not sure if it makes sense, it does to me, but not sure how it will come across in writing!
If anyone wants to know what all the different sounds, sights, feelings & smells were & didn't work it out I can clarify!
Please read & review, I'd really like to know what people think & get feedback!