Noah
I opened my eyes and I wasn't dead.
Just at the hospital.
In a bed.
Afraid.
Mom stared down at me. Her face was bright with concern, reflecting in the light emitted from the overhead panels.
"Thank you," she murmured, glancing at something behind my shoulder.
Everything started to come back to me: the car skidding on the ice, plunging head first into the water, a (grey?) hand grabbing us. Or was I dreaming?
A doctor came into the room and stood beside Mom.
"Mrs. Ryan? Are you feeling better now?"
"Yeah, I'm starting to," Mom said.
The doctor and me looked at each other.
"Hello, Noah, how are you feeling?"
"A little dizzy," I told her, "But I think I'll be okay."
She smiled. "You don't appear to be seriously injured." Then to Mom. "Or you."
Mom seemed fine as far as I could tell. Except she was trembling a little, despite wearing a blanket. That was the moment I saw red circles underneath her eyes. Her nose was also red. My head throbbed. When I tried to move it throbbed even more.
Mom was still looking at me. At first I hadn't noticed how big and puffy her eyes were. It must have been from all the tears. And Dad?
"Where is he?"
"Noah..." Mom croaked.
Then she told me what happened. I didn't believe her.
"NO!" When she moved to hug me, I backed away. "NO!"
"I'm sorry."
She explained it again. I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't lying. This time, I didn't yell. Or scream. For a long time, my body trembled in Mom's arms. Neither of us said a thing. My body was still trembling. Partly at the memory of staring at death and because Dad had been taken from us.
She told me a story and embraced me. We cried, for minutes and minutes until there were no tears left. Mom's words painted a picture of a loving father who zoomed down from heaven and fixed us because he wanted us to be happy. I sat up and wrapped my arms around Mom.
"Thanks," I said. "Why did we nearly die?"
I could tell Mom didn't want to explain. I recalled something she once told me.
"I didn't think the ice would be that dangerous," I added.
Mom inclined her head. Again, she was peering at something. When I turned my head to see what it was, the only thing remaining was a dark shadow in the corner.
"I know," she murmured, "That's why you need to be careful."
At first, I didn't know what to say. That was one of the wisest, truest and sensible things she'd ever said!
"Mom, did somebody pull us out?"
She hesitated a moment, looking me in the eyes.
"I believe so."
Mom was still trembling. In the bright lights, her face looked pale. As she gripped me tight, I felt her tears falling onto my cheek. She didn't say anything, just kept holding me, like we were dangling over a pit together. I squeezed her hand. Something told me she needed that too.
"I'm sorry, Noah," Mom went on, "Maybe I could have stopped this."
I released a big painful sigh, my voice barely above a whisper.
"But you tried."
As much as I missed Dad, at least Mom was still alive.
The doctor returned after fifteen minutes. She explained that the consultant wanted to keep us overnight. I'd never stayed in a hospital before – apart from when I was born – and at least, it was only for a little while. The very next day we could check out and go home.
I wish Dad was able to do that.
Mom and the doctor talked about something called hypothermia, which Mom said if you get too cold, your heart would stop beating. It would make you fall into a deep, deep sleep where you'd never wake up. The way she explained it left goose bumps crawling all over my skin. But at least if I was in a deep, deep sleep I could escape the world.
Forever.
Later, much later, the doctors gave Mom tablets designed to ease her fear. After taking them, she stayed asleep.
Someone waited outside our door. Visiting times had stopped hours ago so it was probably one of the doctors.
Or a nurse.
Then I saw something else.
Oh no.
There was a pale-grey hand belonging to a slender frame with glossy black hair. He wore a long black robe with black trousers and shoes. His eyes were also gold. The darkness obscured him like a shadow. He chuckled.
"You didn't think I'd forget about both of you, did you?"
I screamed for Mom.