Chapter Fourteen

Four Years Ago

Bella

When the darkness finally began to fade, the pain set in. Unimaginable pain. Torment that radiated through my head and down my neck, through my arms and legs, pounding in my torso; this was an agony I had never endured before in my life.

Then there was the emptiness. I couldn't describe the feeling any further than that. A vast emptiness in my soul that couldn't seem to be filled and couldn't be placed; the loss hovered in my body, but I didn't know what caused the barrenness.

Opening my eyes, I blinked slowly at the room around me. Over my right shoulder, something was beeping incessantly, keeping time with my heart. I glanced left, my eyes landing on the sleeping form of my father, snoring in a chair beside my bed. I opened my mouth to call his name. Something hard and plastic pressed against my tongue.

Panicking, I reached up, my fingers traveling along a length of plastic tubing. I groaned, gagging against it.

Dad's eyes fluttered open, taking in my open eyes and fingers tugging at the plastic tubing.

"No, Bella, don't," he ordered, surging out of his chair to my side. Glancing over his shoulder he called out for help.

A twiggy nurse rushed into the room and made her way to my bed. "Well look who's finally awake. Good afternoon sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?"

I gagged again, pointing at the tube.

"Oh sure. Let's pull that out of there."

She set about removing the tube, chatting idly as she did so. I gagged as plastic slid out of my throat and left my mouth.

"Better?" Dad asked.

I nodded, pointing toward his cup.

"Drink?"

I nodded, waiting while he poured me a glass of water and unwrapped a straw. Bringing it to my lips, I took several long burning swallows.

"Thank you," I croaked when the glass was empty. "Where am I?"

"St. Mary's Hospital," Dad said taking his seat beside me again.

"How long have I been here?"

"Almost a month. Do you remember what happened?"

I closed my eyes as flashes flickered through my head at rapid speed. "I was in an accident. My car went down the embankment near the bridge by Jake's house." I looked around for some indication he'd been here recently.

Flowers lined the window sill and several bouquets spilled over onto the tables. A couple of balloons floated overhead, wishing I get well soon.

Dad's coat was lying on the corner of the couch, a folded up newspaper beside it, but no signs of Jake.

"He hasn't been here," Dad said. "Not since the night of the accident."

I cocked my head at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"He came in here after they brought you out of surgery, stayed for a few minutes then left. I figured he'd be back, but he never came."

I closed my eyes as a fresh wave of discomfort washed over me. "He took the job," I stated.

"What job?"

"He was offered a job in Portland. We got into a fight about him leaving so I left. That's how I ended up here. I was crying on the side of the road when that car hit me. He took the job anyway. That selfish prick."

Dad reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "Everything'll be okay, Bella. I'm pissed he just took off on you like that, but you'll be alright. We'll make this work somehow."

"I'm exhausted Dad. Do you mind if I take a nap?"

"No, sweetheart, go ahead. I'm going to run home for a shower. You'll be okay?"

I stared at my dad, noticing for the first time the deep lines etched into his face near his eyes and the dark hair at his temple fading to gunmetal gray.

"I'll be fine dad, go home. Shower, hell, sleep. I'll be here."

He collected his coat, kissed my forehead and left the room. I closed my eyes and leaned against the pillows, letting sleep overtake me.

Sleep didn't last too long. Shortly after I fell asleep, my doctor entered the room calling out a soft hello. My eyelids fluttered open, taking in the sight of an unusually short man staring at me, a silver clipboard clutched in his grasp.

"Hello," he addressed me. "I'm Doctor Saheere, how are you feeling?"

"I've felt better," I admitted. "Everything hurts."

"I would assume so," he said, referencing my chart. "You broke a lot of bones."

"What about my baby?" I asked hopefully. I was painfully aware the chances of the baby surviving were slim, but I had to know for certain.

Dr. Saheere cast his eyes down, scanning the chart. When he looked up, his black eyes were full of sympathy.

"I'm sor-"

I held up my hand cutting him off. I couldn't bear to hear the words, couldn't handle having him say it. I turned away as tears filled my eyes. Not only did I lose Jake, I lost the baby as well.

Jesus, was there no end to the agony?

Dr. Saheere consulted his clipboard, then set the chart down on the tray table.

"I'd like to take a look at your sutures, is that okay?"

I nodded, still staring at the wall, not meeting his eye as he parted my gown and began removing my bandages. He pressed my stomach, pressing firmly on the bruised skin, taking note when I winced and gasped in discomfort.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"A little, yes," I replied.

"Your ribs have healed nicely; your incisions are also almost fully healed. A neurosurgeon will be by later today to take you for some scans to check out your skull fracture and to make sure everything upstairs is working well."

"Super," I muttered. "Sounds like I got myself Humpty Dumptied and you guys put me back together."

"For the most part," Dr. Saheere replied softly. "I am very sorry about the baby. We fought like hell to save the fetus. The damage was just too severe."

"I understand," I said.

"Alright, well, unless you have any questions, I'll let you get some rest."

"Can you maybe turn that down?" I asked, pointing at the vitals monitor.

"Oh sure," he replied, making his way to the monitor and quieting it.

Silence filled the room as the doctor made his way out, shutting the door behind him. I lay on my back staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts went to Jake. I couldn't believe he would up and leave while I was in the hospital. I wasn't expecting him to stay indefinitely, he'd made it extremely clear he was taking the job regardless of my feelings on the job, but I was in the hospital, my life hanging in the balance.

I wondered if he even bothered to find out if the baby survived the accident. Turning slightly, I reached for the phone. Grasping it, I dialed his number and pressed the phone gently to my ear.

Three beeps sounded, then a robotic female voice said, "The number you dialed is not in service. Please check the number you dialed and try your call again."

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stared blankly at the screen. Was his number no longer in service? Seriously?

Rolling to my side, I placed the phone back on the receiver and, wincing, rolled back onto my back. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the tumultuous emotions rolling around my head and my heart.

Slipping back into sleep, my demons chased me, mocking and laughing at me as I tried to outrun them. A hand shook me awake, flooding light on the darkness.

"Bella, honey, wake up."

My eyelids fluttered open, landing on my dad leaning over the edge of the bed. "Dad," I breathed. "Hi."

"Hi honey," he chuckled softly.

"You were supposed to go home and sleep," I told him.

"I did, sweetheart," he murmured brushing my hair off my forehead. "Today's a brand new day. Did you sleep well?"

"I-what? No. I guess not," I stammered.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. Want me to leave so you can rest?"

"No dad," I said, reaching for his hand. "Stay, please."

"Of course honey," he replied, sinking down into the chair beside my bed. "So, what's new?"

I laughed, clutching my side as pain tore through me. "Absolutely nothing. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

I turned my head to face him. "What happened? That night, I mean. How did I wind up here?"

Dad sat back, crossing his legs. "Two teenage boys were headed to a party; they were speeding down Route 23, going way too fast for the weather. A deer darted out into the road, the driver slammed on the brakes; they skidded across the slick road and slammed into you, pushing your car down the embankment. The rescue workers said your car flipped at least once, but they think it was a couple of times, and landed upside down in the river."

"What happened to the other people? Did they survive?"

Dad frowned, shaking his head. "Unfortunately no. The passenger of the pickup wasn't wearing a seatbelt. The driver was, he was taken to the hospital but died later from his injuries."

I shook my head. So much tragedy and for what? What purpose did all of this serve?

"What's wrong honey?"

"I don't understand dad. I don't understand how the world works. I don't understand why teenage boys have to die, why my boyfriend can't just be happy with what we had. Why does everything have to be so goddamned complicated?"

A furious rage rose in me and I wanted nothing more than to rail against the world, to punch and kick something, to scream until my vocal chords bled with the injustice of the world we lived in. Most of all I wanted to hit Jake. I wanted to pummel him until he regained all his good sense.

"Jake disconnected his phone," I muttered. "The freaking coward disconnected his phone."

"I know," Dad murmured. "I tried to call a time or two."

"Why dad?" I pleaded. "Why does he keep doing this me? Better yet, why do I keep letting him hurt me?"

Dad shrugged, his shoulders bouncing under the weight of his sweater. "I wish I knew. I wish I could tell you why the people we love have to hurt us. Maybe suffering makes us better people, you know the whole entering the fire and emerging as steel. Maybe this is a test. Maybe this is just the way the world works. I really don't know."

I reached for his hand, wrapping my fingers around his and squeezing tightly. "I love you, Dad. Promise you won't leave me too?"

"I promise, Bella," he said squeezing back. "I promise."

Three weeks later I was discharged from the hospital. Dad loaded up the vases of flowers, the balloons, and the stuffed animals and drove me back to our house.

Most of my injuries had healed, but I was still in some discomfort. Dad helped me down the hall and into bed. After rearranging the pillows and making sure I was comfortable, he left me alone.

I flipped open my laptop and went through my email and social media accounts. My page was flooded with a plethora of get well messages and feel better soon comments. I closed the page after seeing Jake's account was no longer active, and skimmed through my emails.

After deleting the junk, I got to the bottom of the page and noticed an email from an address I didn't recognize.

Clicking the subject, I read the one line.

I'm sorry.

Angrily, I deleted the message and closed the laptop wondering briefly if it made him feel better because that sorry ass excuse of an apology sure as hell didn't do shit for me.

Life marches on, I soon realized. People moved on, forgot.

People. Not me. I didn't move on. I didn't forget.

Some part of me died in the river that night. Some part of me didn't move on.

I became rather exceptional at pretending I was fine. Talented at forcing smiles so convincing, even my father believed I was getting better.

But I never forgot, and I couldn't move on.

At least not until I got some answer. Answers I wasn't going to find out anytime soon.

Hell, probably ever.