Chapter Three
Darkness |ˈdärknis|
Noun
1 the partial or total absence of light.
• night.
• the quality of being dark in color.
2 wickedness or evil.
• unhappiness, distress, or gloom.
• secrecy or mystery.
Rosie:
I woke up, and my mind was groggy. My eyes opened very slowly. The light was bright, so bright it nearly burned. Definitely not sunlight. I groaned, my hand instinctively going to shield my eyes. My vision was blurry, going in and out of focus like bad glasses. I squinted, blinking away the darkness of sleep, trying to adjust to the light as my vision cleared.
Four, white cinderblock walls surrounded me. Needles, tubes, and other medical appliances were strewn in boxes and all over the counters in neat, organized little stacks. An X-ray hung on the wall, indicating that a couple of my ribs were broken. Another showed a image of my spine, three red circles highlighting different parts. Behind me, a heart monitor beeped soundly. A hospital room, I realized. I was in a hospital room.
Unlike in the movies, I didn't have to rack my brain for memories as to why I was here. The memories flooded through my brain before I could stop them, like a vicious tsunami. I remembered everything from that night. I remembered how the murderers came through the doors, knocking everything down in their way. They wore dark clothing, their features obscured by heavy hoods. I remember my mother hurrying me into a closet, telling me to keep quiet. I remembered watching as the murderers came into the room, and stabbed my mother without a second thought. They then turned on my father, who was desperately trying to pull the attackers away from my mother, screaming as he did so.
"You bastards!" he shouted. "You bastards, I'll fucking kill you!"
His profanities were cut of by a sickening sound. I clapped my hand over my mouth, tears forming in my eyes as they yanked the bloody knife out of my father's stomach. I didn't know exactly how long the bloody horror went on for, but the murderers' weren't satisfied until stab wounds completely covered my parents' bodies and blood dripped down the walls.
Sick, twisted bastards.
And then they were gone, like a magic act. They vanished without a trace. As quickly as they came, they had left, leaving a murderous bloody mess in their wake. The lights were nearly all gone, furniture was ripped and shredded, fires had broken out in several rooms, blood stained the walls, and shards of bloody glass lay strewn on the floor. But worst of all, my parents lay in dark pools on the floor.
I felt the tears stinging my eyes again. I tilted my head towards the ceiling, trying to push the burning tears back. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door opened, and a curly blonde nurse practically skipped into the room. Behind her, a tall man with glasses who I knew was the doctor.
"Oh!" the nurse cried in the same voice a Disney princess would use. She was worse than an alarm clock. I was irritated already. "You're awake!"
"Norma, how many times have I told you to let me into the room first," the doctor said. His voice wasn't annoyed, but rather tired. "Especially after our patients have woken up from sleep."
"Sorry, sir!" Norma the Annoying Nurse said chipperly. The doctor didn't even do so much as sigh before he turned to me. A weary smile was etched onto his lips.
"Miss Roslyn Isabella Simon," the doctor said, more of a statement than a question. I bit back a wince. The only person who ever called me by my full and complete name was my mother.
"Yes," I said, my voice smoother than I expected. "That's me."
The doctor nodded as Annoying Norma Nurse was close to bouncing in place. God, was she just going to blast off at any second? What was this woman smoking?
"Miss Simon, you've been through a rather unfortunate turn of events," the doctor said. "What exactly do you remember?"
I swallowed hard. The last thing I wanted to talk about was witnessing my parents' murder. The memories were already replaying over and over again in my mind. It already felt like someone had torn out my heart, and the fact that I kept seeing their lifeless faces in my head wasn't going to help.
"I remember enough," I told him truthfully, trying to mask any pain and make my weak voice sound strong. The doctor shook his head, a sympathetic look in his eyes.
"I know it's difficult, Miss Simon, but it's very important that you tell me," he said. "I need to make sure your brain is stable."
I didn't want to. If I even thought about it I would cry, let alone talk about it. And there was nothing I hated more than showing my emotions to people, especially crying. And I didn't want to burst out into tears in front of random strangers.
"I remember the murders," was all I could bring myself to say. The doctor nodded, and scribbled something down in his blue folder. When he looked back at me, his expression was unreadable.
"What about the murderers?" the doctor asked.
"I couldn't see any faces," I said. "They all wore hoods." The doctor nodded again, and checked something off on the paper.
"Miss Simon," the doctor said, looking up at me. "There are some things that we need you to become…" the doctor searched for the right word. "Acquainted with."
I nodded. "Alright." How bad could it be? He would probably just tell me I had two broken ribs and I'd be here for a couple of weeks. That was a piece of cake. What I was really concerned about was finding coffins and grave plots for my parents.
"As you can see on these X-rays," he pointed to the pictures with the tip of his pen. "Two of your ribs were broken by your attacker. Here and here," he gestured to the two cracks in my ribs with the tip of his pen. Well, I knew that already. "You also received various gashes on your legs, arms, and stomach, but some of those were defensive wounds." That made sense. I had tried to throw a swing or two at the man before I blacked out. The doctor took a deep breath. "And your spine received several fractures."
Processing.
Compute.
"What?" My voice was close to a shout. I sat straight up in the hospital bed, my hand flying to my back. There was no brace, not even a board to keep my back straight. Nothing. I looked at the doctor with a horrified expression.
"Spinal fractures don't heal overnight," I said, thinking aloud. The doctor nodded, taking a step towards my bed.
"You're quite right. They don't," he said. His tone was professional, but in his eyes I saw some things that I didn't want to see—confusion. Bemusement. Astonishment. He took a deep breath, and I never could have prepared myself for what he said next.
"Miss Simon, you've been asleep for four months," he said. He didn't stop for me to process that. "It's May. The accident happened back in January."
A noise escaped from my mouth that was in between a gasp and a scream. Four months?! I'd been asleep for four months?!
"That's not all," the doctor went on. "Spinal fractures usually take roughly about eight to twelve weeks to heal but," the astonishment was back in his eyes, this time mixed with a bit of wonder, "your three fractures healed in two nights."
My mouth fell open. Someone gave a small scream. I realized that it had been me. I had always been the world's slowest healer. It usually took me a week to heal from a damn paper-cut! And now this doctor—who was looking at me like I was a freak of nature, but also his greatest patient—was trying to tell me that my spinal injuries healed in two damn nights?!
"Doctor, I—" I began. I was cut off as the heavy hospital door slammed open, and a man walked into the room.
He was by far the most intimidating man I've ever seen. He was tall, a giant, probably a 6'4 compared to my tiny 5'1. His skin was dark, like the color of chocolate, and his clothes were all black. Black shirt, black pants, heavy black boots, floor-length black coat, even his watch was black. So was his eye patch. I forced myself to look him dead in the eye, ignoring the chills that raced up my spine when I saw the jagged scar that ran into his eye patch, disappeared, and then ran out the other side.
"Doctor," the man said, not removing his eye from mine as he nodded at the clearly intimidated doctor. "My name is Nick Fury. I'll take it from here."
Again, this chapter is long and kind of bad, but please, please, please, for the love of God and Iron Man's sexiness, tell me if I'm going too fast! I'm totally open to anything y'all have to say so comment or message or whatever you like! Woohoo I'm eating so many Peeps right now! Here, have some delicious marshmallowy Peeps! *throws candy* Until next time!
-Charlotte