Chapter 9
Disclaimer for all chapters: I do not own Twilight Saga. SM owns it. I do not intend to copy any of her ideas for my own. I only own the plot to this story. And I do not intend to copy any other author either. There are many stories out there and I have not been able to read all of them.
This story contains mention of physical and emotional abuse, strong language, etc. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with such topics. Enjoy and please review.
Also, just some info for my readers: thanks to all who are reading!
I was dreaming. I was on the beach and I was standing next to my mom. We were holding hands, and I felt at peace. Mom and I were together, and everything was okay. It was a beautiful day, the waves were breaking, the wind was blowing across my face, and I could feel the sun warming my skin. Suddenly, I was standing alone and the seagulls' cries grew louder and sounded like beep, beep, beep, beep but now it wasn't seagulls... what was that sound? I tried to concentrate on the sound to figure out what it was and slowly found myself walking up.
I tried to open my eyes, but my lids felt so heavy. When I did manage to get them open just a slit, the room was so bright I couldn't see anything. I kept blinking until the blurriness in my eyes abated, and I adjusted to the brightness.
When I was fully awake, I realized I was alone and in a hospital bed. I looked around the room. There were some wilting flowers in the windowsill and deflating helium balloons with "get well soon" on them as well. I had casts or a cast from my waist down. I couldn't really tell. I wiggled my fingers and touched my arms, neck, face, and head. I could feel what felt like a scar on the side of my head - I guess I had needed some stitches. I felt so weak and was surprised at how hard it was to move my arms and hands. I tried to wiggle my toes, but nothing happened. I concentrated this time on moving my toes. Still nothing. "Stay calm, Bella," I told myself while taking several deep breaths. Looking at my body, I had several tubes hooked up to me. I needed to know what had happened. And I desperately needed water; I was so thirsty. There was a nurse's call button near my right hand, and I managed to squeeze it. After a few minutes, a nurse walked into my room and I heard her say, "Frank, you better not be joking around and hitting call buttons again."
I turned my head at the sound of her voice and tried to say "hi", but all that came out was a croak. "Oh my god", the nurse said, "You're awake. Let me get the doctor." A few minutes later, the nurse came back saying "it's a miracle... she's awake." "Who is she talking to" I wondered. My head still felt fuzzy. I looked over and saw the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life. He was perfect with blond hair, topaz eyes and pale skin... I had never seen anyone like him. I blinked repeatedly to clear my eyes again, but he looked the same. I wondered if I had a head injury and if what I was seeing had to do with why I was in the hospital.
"Ms. Dwyer…Bella…, can you hear me?" I swear it was the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. I nodded "yes" to the man. "I'm Dr. Cullen. Do you know where you are?" I shrugged my shoulders or at least tried to, and said "I'm not sure," but again, the words came out more as croaks. Instead of talking this time, I motioned my hand as a cup and tilted it towards my mouth. Again, I was astounded at my weakness and wondered how long I had been at the hospital. Dr. Cullen saw my motion and figured out right away what I was asking. "Nurse, please go get Ms. Dwyer a cup with ice chips." Dr. Cullen read my chart and looked at the monitors around my bed and took some notes, but didn't say anything to me. The nurse returned and helped me by inserting an ice chip into my mouth. Ahh... the sensation of water running down my throat was so pleasurable, I barely noticed the cold. After the first ice chip was gone, I looked at the nurse and said "more please." This time my speech was soft but clear and Dr. Cullen smiled. After finishing off several more ice chips, I nodded at Dr. Cullen and said in a weak voice, "I know I'm in a hospital but I don't know where or why."
With that, Dr. Cullen proceeded to tell me what had happened. Phil had beaten me with a baseball bat on the front lawn of our house. I had serious injuries and had been in a coma for almost four months. It was now the end of November. Thanksgiving had been last week. Apparently, I had been screaming so loud that I had woken the neighbors who called the police. Chief Swan and one of his deputies arrived on the scene, and Phil wouldn't relinquish his bat. In fact, he charged Charlie with the bat so the Deputy had to shoot and ended up killing him. They called for an ambulance. It was touch and go whether I would live or not. They had to operate to remove my spleen, stop the internal bleeding and fix compound breaks in each leg. I even needed a blood transfusion. It turns out that I have a rare blood type and the hospital did not have enough in supply that night. Luckily, Chief Swan was a match. The only thing that made hearing this terrible story tolerable was the sound of Dr. Cullen's voice. Somehow, it reassured me.
Dr. Cullen proceeded to tell me that my body had been in a full cast until about a month ago. I had been in a Seattle hospital for about one month and had been moved back to Forks almost three and a half months ago. My physical injuries were healing nicely, however, Dr. Cullen said, "It is not clear if you will be able to walk again Bella. You sustained significant damage to your legs and pelvic bone during the attack. You will need months, maybe years of rehabilitation."
I nodded. Until this point, I hadn't moved or said anything while listening to Dr. Cullen. I didn't feel shocked; I felt numb, I decided. It was like reading a terrible story in the paper… these things had happened to someone else.
"I was wondering. I tried to wiggle my toes and nothing happened," I responded. Dr. Cullen looked at me strangely and then went on to say, "Now that you are awake, I'm going to have to do some neurological tests to make sure your brain functioning is okay."
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back into my pillow and sighed deeply. "Bella, do you have any questions for me?" I nodded my head. "Tons, but I'm too tired to ask them all. Let's keep it simple for now. Why am I so weak?"
Dr. Cullen informed me that my muscles had atrophied from lack of use and that rebuilding my strength was a key goal of rehabilitation. It was possible that my ability to walk would return, he added. The doctors couldn't find any physical damage so they thought it may be nerve damage that hadn't healed yet along with the bones in my hip and legs. My lower body cast was ready to come off soon. However, I would be in a wheelchair for the foreseeable future. After he told me that, I was silent for a few moments.
"Dr. Cullen, I know we still have a lot to talk about, but I'm tired." Dr. Cullen grasped my fingers gently and squeezed very softly, saying, "I understand Bella." Dr. Cullen's hand was cool, almost chilly, to the touch but I wondered if I imagined it because he stopped holding my fingers so quickly. "I think you should get some rest now Bella. Are you in any pain?"
"No. I'll call the nurse if I need anything."
Dr. Cullen and the nurse got up and left my room.
As I lay in my hospital bed and looked at the ceiling, I reflected on how familiar this pose was. Me, in a bed staring at the ceiling, thinking for hours. Classic.
My thoughts came fast and furious. How was it that I was alive? How had I survived? It was clear that Phil almost killed me. He was going to kill me that night. My own father tried to kill me. No matter how I said it, it was wrong. I felt ashamed...normal parents don't try to kill their children. I'd always felt that I disappointed him, even when mom was alive. After he killed mom, I told myself I didn't care how he felt about me because I knew what he was capable of, but the fact that my dad didn't love me hurt. He stopped being my father years ago and now that he was dead, I wasn't sure how to feel about him and what happened. My thoughts and feelings shifted. I felt guilty. Why was I still alive when mom wasn't? As soon as I thought of mom, I remembered my dream of us at the beach. The memory of my dream comforted me. It was weird because I'm not a religious person, but I sensed that mom was okay. I had been in a coma for four months. I didn't have memories of any other dreams or thoughts while I was unconscious. It was just black, then I had the dream of me and mom, and then I woke up. I felt so strange. My thoughts, my body...it was like everything was coming back on line but not quite the way it was before. Life had gone on just fine while I was unconscious in a hospital bed for four months. Talk about feeling insignificant. And then there were my legs. Would I ever walk again? "I'll take my recovery one day at a time," I decided. I hoped I would be able to walk and even run again one day. But besides running, what else did I want my life to be? For so many years, I had only one plan...graduate and leave both Forks and Phil. I had focused my whole existence on avoiding the danger that was my own father. This train of thought and the feelings it evoked were making me feel even more tired and overwhelmed. I didn't want to relive my constant fear and anxiety now. What would my life be like now? What did I want my life to be? Why was I alive? It was clear that everything I knew or expected about my life changed that night four months ago. Now I needed to catch up. With this final thought, sleep overtook me.
My first full day of being awake, the nurses got me out of bed and put me in a wheelchair, even before Dr. Cullen came for his rounds. I couldn't believe how weak my body was. They had to strap me in so I didn't fall out! I sat in the chair getting used to the feeling of it and trying to wheel myself forward and backwards a bit. My arms were so weak that if I moved the chair even a quarter an inch, I would be amazed. After awhile, I stopped, embarrassed by my wheezing at trying to move my chair. Instead, I sat and caught my breath. I had never been really sick before so I had to tell myself to have patience. I was weak now but wouldn't be forever.
I was only sitting for a few minutes before Dr. Cullen came in. He told me that he and the medical team would come in every day to monitor my progress. I learned that before I could be discharged to the rehabilitation center, I had to be able to eat, drink and "void" on my own without tubes. Void, yuck. Apparently, the eating and drinking would come pretty fast, but if my experience was like other patients, it would take me a little longer to build up enough strength in my abs needed for bathroom duty. I couldn't get out of the bed on my own so the goal wasn't that I be able to make it to the bathroom on my own...just that I wouldn't need tubes.
They wheeled me down to the MRI room, and I waited for about an hour and then it was my turn. I had never been in a MRI machine before. They asked me if I was claustrophobic. I told them I had never been in a MRI machine before but that I didn't like closed spaces. So, they gave me some valium and once it kicked it, they lifted me out of my wheelchair and laid me on the table. Soon, I was in the MRI tube. I was so glad for the valium because otherwise, I think I would have freaked out in that machine. But the valium made me so relaxed, my mind just wandered through random thoughts and before I knew it, the test was done. I was surprised that the tests had really taken an hour.
Relaxed from the drugs and tired from my morning excursion, the staff successfully strapped me back in the chair and soon I was back in bed. They had removed my IV tube for feeding out this morning and for lunch it was time to see if I could handle food. I started on a liquid diet, and never before had chicken broth and a cup of ice water tasted so good! The chill of the water on the back of my raw throat was divine! Sated, I leaned back on my pillows to watch TV.
I felt a weight on me; I was trapped and couldn't get up, and I couldn't breath. I was struggling to get the weight off me. I shoved with all my might, and the pain from moving my legs woke me instantly. I was sweating profusely and gasping for breath. I looked around and tried to calm myself down. I realized that I was in my hospital bed and had thrown my covers off. I must have fallen asleep and while sleeping somehow had moved my legs so that I was lying on my side. The pain from my lower body was excruciating, and I started to cry. As I pushed the nurse's button to get some pain medicine, I felt sick to my stomach.
"It was a nightmare," I told myself. "I'm safe now." But the sinking feeling in my stomach belied my efforts to reassure myself. I had remembered everything about that night.
When Dr. Cullen came into my room in the early evening, I was awake. I didn't have any desire to fall asleep again anytime soon. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Dr. Cullen?"
He stopped and reviewed my chart, and frowned. "Bella, I see you asked for a dose of pain medicine around 2:00 p.m."
"Yes, I had a bad dream and must have moved myself while I was sleeping. The pain woke me up, and it was pretty bad, so I asked for meds." I answered him calmly. While I liked Dr. Cullen, I wasn't about to tell him about what happened. That was my private business, my shameful secret. He gave me a strange look again, and even though he looked like he wanted to, he didn't ask me any more questions.
"Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow, Bella. Good night."
"Good night" I replied.
