Two: Slipped Away
I'm tired, so tired…
"She's not in a coma, Mrs. Meyer, She's just blacked out. She'll be fading in and out of consciousness…"
"Baby, my sweet baby, if you can hear me…"
Andrea…
"She's just asleep, yes sir. She'll wake soon enough, though she's been through something so traumatic, she may not remember anything…"
If only that were the case…
"I don't want to lose you as well… Please, I beg you, wake up!"
I have to wake up…
…Andrea…
…She needs me…
…I have to…
"Good morning, sleepyhead." I opened my eyes, but all I saw where shapes and shadows. I felt heat on my skin, and my muscles were stiff, as if I had lying still for a very long time. I knew what was happening. I hadn't forgotten, like the doctor said I might. I knew were Andrea was, I knew why I couldn't see and I knew who was talking to me now.
I just didn't want any of it. I wanted to be home now, opening presents and giving them, having a huge smile on my face so long that it hurt, laughing until I cried, sticking present ribbons in my hair. I should be excusing myself to go read my brand new book, lost in the words, worlds away by now. I should by packing up and getting ready to go to Aunt Minnie's for a week. And Andrea should be in the living room laughing, taking her time just to talk to my parents, a perfect daughter. Mom should be holding up a smile, thinking about how perfect her first born is, and her next margarita. Tom should be in his room, playing World of Warcraft, or as he calls it, W.O.W.
Not this. Just, not this. Not this room, with its consisting beeping machines, corners I can't see, and suffocating occupants.
"I'm Dr. Bernstein, and you're going to be just fine—"
"Just tell the truth," I said, cutting him off, "how bad is it?"
He blew out a breath and sucked in another, repeating the process four times, sounding very much like Dark Vader. "You have a nasty gash on your face, and you'll always have a scar from it. You'll be blind forever, unless of course you order for cornea implants, which, by your parents' income, won't be happening anytime soon. We can keep you here until your face and burns heal, and appoint physiatrists for the blind thing, but other than that, I can't help you. Bye."
Minutes or maybe hours after he had left the room, a small, shaky, week voice was heard. "Bye."
I know the doctor seemed like an a**, but I imagined him with a personality like House, (a character on a USA TV show,(the channel, not the country) to those who don't know.)
~Cha Lyll
