The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25[dot]com
Prompt: Hospital
Pen Name: Mcgt
Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella
Rating: M
This will be a multi-chaptered story.
Photo prompts can be viewed here: thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts
A/N
Thanks toLittleRedScientist for helping beta this for me and Jenequilter for her prereader skills.
Chapter 10 – I Can See Clearly – Hospital Prompt
"Daddy?" I squeaked, my throat feeling like I'd swallowed sandpaper.
"Shh… I'm here," he whispered, stroking my hair as I continued to blink trying to figure out what was happening.
"Isabella! Welcome back to the land of the living," a short man with blondish hair called to me from the door. He was dressed in scrubs and sounding an awful lot like my angel, Alistair.
"Alistair?" I mouthed, fearing the pain that seared through my throat the last time I tried to talk.
He looked at me questioningly, "You know my name? So you were awake in there. Fantastic." He wandered over to a bank of machines before standing at the foot of my bed and asking me if I knew where I was.
The scene appeared familiar but I struggled to put a name on it, and was forced to shake my head. Which I'd regretted the moment I moved it as the dull ached throbbed uncontrollably near my temple.
"It's okay. You're probably going to be confused for a little bit but you're in the hospital. You've been in a coma for the last three days."
Coma?
At his words, I looked around the room and down at my prone body. My hand had an IV needle taped to it; tubing ran around my face and into my nose. I could hear a soft beeping coming from the corner and there next to my bed, was my dad beaming brightly at me.
Raising my hand I reached out to indicate for my dad to take it, needing his comforting touch while I tried to sort everything out.
"You're probably going to be tired and in and out of consciousness for a few days. Don't push it. You took one heck of a knock to your noggin there," Alistair continued as my mind continued to try and put the puzzle pieces of the last few days together, especially how different Angelic Alistair looked compared to the one standing in front of me.
"I'm going to go get your mother. I'll be right back," Dad said, kissing my forehead and rushing out the door to spread the good news of my reanimation into the real world.
Taking a sip of the water Alistair had just handed me, I relished relieving some of the thirst I'd been feeling.
"What happened to me?" I asked quietly, still digging into the depths of my memory to try and figure out what was real and what wasn't.
"You just barely missed getting hit by a car when you stepped out from between two parked cars. From what the witnesses have said, you stumbled back onto the sidewalk and cracked your head open on a fire hydrant. If it wasn't for Doctor Masen being right there you could have been much worse." Alistair sat down in the chair my dad had just gotten up from, and waited patiently for me to process his comment.
"Let me get this straight. I didn't get hit by a car, but still managed to get a head injury because I'm a clumsy, unlucky girl?" I sarcastically asked.
Resting my head back against the pillow I thought about all the memories, the visits and of course my mystery man. None of them were true. I wasn't visited by the ghosts of Christmas past or some angel. It must have been my imagination having its way with me.
"I wouldn't call coming out of a coma as unlucky, my dear," Alistair tisked, chiding my negative attitude.
Suddenly I had to know what had happened when I was unconscious and asked, "I heard you. You talked to me? Why would you talk to me when I was in a coma? What was all your nonsense about visitors? Did I die, or did I just dream everything up?" A string of annoyed questions came flowing out of my mouth as anger bubbled beneath my exhausted mind.
Alistair allowed me to finish my rant before answering, "I always talk to people in comas. I think you can hear us and from the fact you know my name, I'm not wrong. Other nurses just come in, check your vitals and move along to their next patient. I try to spend a little time opening the curtains, letting in some light, and chatter along as if you were as conscious as you are right now."
He held his hand up when I opened my mouth, telling me he wasn't quite finished.
"Will you tell me what you saw? When you feel up to it? I'm fascinated by the brain's ability to heal itself and would love to hear your experience, because from the questions you just asked me I'm assuming you remember something." He looked like a kid on Christmas with the joy seeping out of his pores at the prospect of my 'afterlife' tale.
As frustrated as I was about things, looking at Alistair's expression I couldn't refuse him. Nodding minutely I acquiesced to telling him what I could remember. But right now all I wanted to do was sleep.
I was about to close my eyes and drift off when a flash of purple caught my eye. Glancing over toward the glass wall that made up the front of my room stood not only my Mom and Dad but Emmett, Alice, Angela, Esme, and Jake standing in the far back. I lifted my hand slightly to give them a wave and a smile but it was all I could muster before descending into the darkness once again and succumbing to sleep.
~*00*~
"I'm not an invalid Mom. I can walk to the bathroom myself," I huffed, annoyed for the billionth time today at how everyone kept treating me like I was a two year old and completely incapable of doing things on my own.
She didn't pay me any mind and continued holding on to my arm as I slowly shuffled towards it. "I know your balance isn't right just yet, let me help you." She calmly spoke knowing the truth after seeing my dreadful attempt at walking a straight line during my rehabilitation therapy appointment today.
Walking me back to the bed she told me she'd be back later with some dinner before visiting hours ended.
I'd barely flipped on the television when I heard Alistair's voice, "How'd therapy go?"
"Fine," I grumbled flicking the television back off.
"Oh, come on Isabella. You're scheduled to be released Wednesday morning if all keeps progressing as it is. No need for the attitude." Grabbing my arm he pulled on a blood pressure cuff and began reading my vitals, again.
"It's been two days since I woke up but I still can't remember a damn thing about the accident. If I can clearly remember what happened when I was in a coma, then why can't I remember simple facts about that day? Or hell, remember what I ate for breakfast this morning." I was frustrated at my lack of progress over the last couple of days. But true to Alistair's word I was unconscious for a majority of the time, sleeping off a lot of the meds they had prescribed to control my brain's swelling. I'd visited briefly with my parents, Alice and Emmett, but up until today I'd been in the ICU, limiting my visits to only one person at a time.
"Your memories will slowly recover but I will warn you, the day of the accident may never reappear." Patting my hand he sat down in the chair and asked if I was ready to tell him what I remembered from my time in the coma. He was reminding me not too subtly that this was probably my last opportunity to share it with him before being moved to a regular room later this afternoon.
"Sure, I'll tell you what I can and perhaps you can tell me if it was my imagination or what. Deal?"
After agreeing to play the real or not real game, I told him almost everything I remembered.
My sandy beach.
My tap class and visit to the Forks Police Department.
All about my prom dress shopping mishap and the prom itself.
I told him everything in between up until my high school graduation where the lines between reality and my coma fantasy became blurred.
I withheld the information about my nightly visitor, fearing that perhaps my mind was making up the perfect man and I didn't want Alistair to ruin any hope I might have had that it was indeed real.
When I was done telling him what I wanted to share with him he just sat there silent, shaking his head back and forth and mumbling to himself.
"Do you realize that you heard everything that people spoke to you, but not anything that was said around you? You didn't mention the doctors who cared for you in surgery or anyone else who came in to check on you. Yet you remember the memories your friends spoke to you about… simply fascinating."
I looked over at him confused, "Why would people recall memories of me? Why not just sit and talk?"
"As your ICU nurse it's my job to monitor you and sort of act like a gate keeper into your room. When your mom and dad came after you were admitted I discussed with them my feelings about how coma patients are aware of their surroundings, and that sometimes the patient needs to be reminded that life's worth living."
I was about to open my mouth to refute his assumption when he held his hand up, silencing me before I'd even said a word.
"I'm not suggesting you were suicidal," he commented. "But memories are quite powerful and from the fact that you remember what happened when most other coma patients don't leads me to believe that perhaps my suggestion to your friends about walking you down memory lane, so that you would come back into the land of the living, seemed to have been effective."
"Let me get this straight. These weren't made up memories but ones spoken in my ear by my friends when they visited?"
"It would seem so."
He laughed unexpectedly, reminding me that he was definitely not an angel no matter what my imagination had turned him in to.
I sat quietly contemplating all that he'd said, and wished I knew the answer behind my mysterious stranger. With everything else having been real I wondered if perhaps there was a slim chance I might one day meet the man of my dreams.
I couldn't help but groan internally at my cheesy thought.
"Alright, I need to go check on my other patients. If I don't see you before they come to move you, it was a pleasure tending to you Isabella. And now that I know you own The Drowsy Reader, I'll have to stop by for a cup of coffee before my shift."
Giving him a hug, I thanked him for his help and hoped to see him soon.
It still amazed me how exhausted I'd get just by doing the simplest things like talking for twenty minutes. Allowing my eyes to drift closed, I opened my mind up to the encouraging prospect that perhaps I'd one day figure out the curious case of my mystery visitor, but in the meantime I could dream of his deep timbre voice and gentle touch. For now, it would have to be enough.
A/N
Well, there you have it. Did it live up to your expectations? Still need to figure out who the mystery man is and how he fits into things though. Stay tuned. Another post tomorrow & Friday!