Chapter 24

Of course, all things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just taking my turn in her sandbox...

The darkness had been slowly receding for a while, but I wasn't sure for how long. Time had become completely immaterial to me...blending and morphing around the echo of voices which murmured low at times or uncomfortably loud at others, depending on how clear my mind was at the time.

Life wasn't very comfortable right now. I felt my lungs expanding and contracting, but I knew somehow that I wasn't causing it. The steady ache in my lower chest remained; I knew that there was a reason for this pain, but I couldn't remember what was making the pain radiate outward.

My throat hurt; it was terribly dry, and it burned. So badly. It was actually my most constant source of pain. I hated it.

My side also ached, a pulling sensation raking through me at times.

And my head hurt. So badly.

Ugh...

The one thing I had gathered was where I was.

In a hospital.

Forks Hospital.

And Carlisle was taking care of me.

His clear, melodious voice was my lifeline, tethering me in the painful, red reality and keeping me from slipping into the black darkness that attempted to swallow me at every turn.

I had no will to remain in painful reality...except for the sheer beauty of Carlisle's voice. His love and concern was like nothing I had experienced since my mother's death.

And he had been there, too, caring for us all, comforting and amusing me.

He made me feel special, even as a small child.

Now I clung to his voice mentally, pushing away the darkness for as long as I could each time until I eventually succumbed into the painless blackness.

I heard him praying over me, over and over, and telling me to fight...to fight hard.

And I was fighting, just as Carlisle told me to. As hard as I could.

I was not going to let the darkness win.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

I emerged from the darkness slowly, as usual. Gradually I became aware of Carlisle's gentle voice murmuring quietly.

Perhaps he was praying again? He did that a lot during my time here. And, oddly, I didn't mind. I sensed the earnestness behind his prayers, the force of his supplications, as if he were begging God to return me safely from the darkness.

Despite the pain that invariably exhausted me each time I endured the redness of reality, Carlisle made me want to return to my life.

He made me strong.

But today was different.

I felt different.

I felt more determined to return to reality. And stay there. Despite the pain and agony that I would be forced to face. And not just physical pain, but emotional pain, too.

The pain of what he had done. What he had taken from me.

But I would be strong, and I would face the reality, the pain.

I was ready.

And, for the first time in who-knows-how-long, I opened my eyes.

"Bella?" Carlisle's voice was urgent and excited. "Bella, can you hear me?"

I tried to speak, but I couldn't; something was preventing me from even whispering.

"Don't try to talk, sweetheart. The tube from the ventilator makes it impossible to speak. Just nod if you understand me, all right?"

I stared toward the sound of his voice, my sight blurred, unfocused. Ever so slowly, as I blinked and blinked, my eyesight began to clear, and I was able to make out Carlisle's smiling face bending over me.

"There you are," he breathed in relief. "Welcome back, Bella."

I tried to move my hand, but even shifting that one body part caused a shooting pain down my arm, through my shoulder, and into my upper chest. I moaned around the stupid tube in my mouth and throat.

"Stay still. You're going to be in pain as you regain movement, so let's not make it worse for now."

I nodded minutely, and he smiled.

"It's wonderful to see your eyes open; it's been quite a while," Carlisle said, his voice an odd mixture of excitement and concern. His eyes looked weary, as if he was exhausted; I remembered that same expression from my childhood when Carlisle had cared for my mother during her illness.

He cared so much. He must be a great father to his kids.

A pang struck me hard, but it wasn't physical. I wanted my own father right now. A parent. Someone to comfort and care for me.

I felt the heat of tears beginning to well in my eyes; I sniffed, trying to force them back before Carlisle noticed.

He turned away for a moment...and I used the moment to regain my composure. Carlisle spoke to the nurse, "Marcy, I think we can safely remove the intubation; Bella doesn't need the ventilator any longer. Please assist me?" Carlisle softened the order to a request; I appreciated his treatment of the nurses on his team.

"Certainly, Dr. Cullen," a cheerful voice chimed, and a lined face joined his in my scope of vision. Together, they worked, untaping the tube from around my mouth and doing other stuff that I couldn't see until Carlisle's face appeared very close to mine.

"We're ready to remove the tube from your throat, Bella. We need you to help us, all right?"

I nodded, so ready to get rid of this annoying thing that I would do anything he asked of me.

He continued, "When I say 'three,' I want you to blow out as hard as you can. Can you do that for us?"

I nodded again.

"Good girl," he responded, apparently satisfied. "I'm sure you're more than ready to get rid of this nuisance."

I winked, and he laughed gently.

"Let's do this. All right, Bella, breathe in deeply as I start counting, then blow out hard on 'three.' Ready? One...two...THREE!"

I blew out weakly while he slid the tube out of my lungs, scraping against my very painful throat, then out my mouth. I coughed hard several times as I sucked air into my lungs on my own power at long last. Marcy wiped my mouth with a damp cloth, smiling.

"You did great, Bella," she encouraged, nodding her head, making her short gray curls bounce. She raised the head of my bed slowly until I was actually sitting up, then arranged pillows behind me.

The sitting up was nice, but I felt the pulling sensation in my side again, and my throat was horribly sore.

And I was hungry. So hungry.

Carlisle finished disposing of my tubing and moving the ventilator near the door for removal from my room.

I blinked a few times, adjusting to the feeling of sitting up. I had no idea how long I had been laying down, but I had the feeling that it had been a while.

Marcy bustled around the room as Carlisle picked up my chart and scribbled on it. "Anything else, Dr. Cullen?" she asked, standing beside me after finishing her clean-up duties.

"No, that will be everything for now, Marcy." Carlisle looked at me, then added, "Could you bring Bella some chilled Jell-O for her throat? I think it will help."

"Sure thing. I'll be back in a few minutes, Bella. You hang tight, okay?"

I nodded, then the nurse left the room.

Carlisle and I were alone.

I had a million and a half questions, but Carlisle must have seen them all bubbling up in my eyes as he raised his hand, palm toward me. "Please don't talk, Bella. Your throat needs to heal after you've been intubated for such a long time. I'll tell you everything, and you may whisper if necessary. But please attempt to refrain from talking as much as possible. All right?"

I nodded, my eyes boring into his, waiting to hear everything that had happened.

Carlisle took a deep breath, as if the memories he was retelling were difficult for him. His uneasiness and obvious pain somehow comforted me.

He cares for me...the way a father cares.

That thought warmed me, and I felt a wave of thankfulness that Carlisle had been there for me throughout the who-knows-how-long that I've been in Forks Hospital.

Carlisle sighed, then took a second deep breath and began speaking in a measured, detached voice. "Sam and Emily brought you here to the hospital after...what happened at the beach. Apparently they had tried the clinic in La Push first, but it was closed. So they came here, and we brought you in. You were bleeding profusely from a couple of facial and scalp lacerations. In fact, the bleeding was so profuse and with your right eye swollen shut, I didn't recognize you at first."

I noticed how carefully Carlisle was avoiding saying his name. And I was grateful. He was dead to me, and I would be thrilled to never hear that name as long as I lived. He was now nothing to me. Nothing at all.

Carlisle continued more slowly now. "But the real damage done to you was internal. We got you into the ER and did a quick ultrasound. When you were repeatedly kicked in the side, three ribs were broken, and one of them lacerated your liver, causing you to bleed internally. It was life-threatening. We rushed you to the ER, but on the way, your heart stopped from the blood loss. I did chest compressions until we got you into an OR. We shocked your heart back into a normal rhythm and tried to keep transfusing you to keep your blood levels up long enough to perform surgery and repair the liver laceration."

Carlisle sighed, then continued, shifting his gaze away from my face to the monitor above my bed. "Your heart stopped twice more while you were on the operating table. The third time...it took us over five minutes to regain a normal rhythm."

I blinked, then whispered, "I was dead for five minutes?"

Carlisle looked back at my face, and the pain was evident in his expression. "Technically, yes. We did compressions and bagged you throughout our attempts to revive you, so we hoped that there wouldn't be any brain damage. But we weren't really sure that you were all right until a few days ago when the brain scans came back with normal brain activity."

Wow. I had been dead. He had technically killed me. Beating me and nearly raping me wasn't enough; he killed me, too.

Bastard. I felt a surge of anger fill me. I truly hated him.

And I would never forgive him. Never.

Carlisle continued, "We put you in a medically-induced coma after the surgery and kept you on the ventilator until just now, allowing your body to rest and recover. You just started breathing entirely on your own a few hours ago, so I was hopeful that you would awaken today."

"How long was I in the coma?" I whispered.

"The surgery took place two weeks ago yesterday."

Shit. Two weeks. I had lost two weeks...

"The good news is that most of your bruises have healed while you were unconscious, especially the ones on your face. We had a plastic surgeon come from Seattle, a specialist who drove in as a favor to me, who stitched your facial lacerations so that you shouldn't have any scarring; I removed the stitches four days ago. Our preliminary scans showed only a slight diminishment in brain activity, normal for a coma, so we assumed that you would have come out of the medically-induced coma about a week ago. But apparently your body needed more time to recover since you only came out of the coma today."

He looked at me closely then asked, "How are you feeling, Bella?"

"Like I died a couple of weeks ago," I grouched in a hoarse whisper, and Carlisle smiled.

"Welcome back, Miss Swan," he congratulated me. "It's nice to see the real 'you' again." Then he became more serious. "You still have a good month of recovery ahead of you. You'll probably need to remain here in the hospital for another five days or so."

"Then what?" I rasped.

Carlisle looked uncomfortable for the first time. His gaze skittered around the room, landing everywhere but on me.

Hmmm. What's going on?

"Well," he started awkwardly, "you're not returning to the Blacks' home. Mrs. Fairfield removed you permanently from the custody of Mr. William Black. He is no longer your legal guardian."

Wow. I wouldn't ever have to go back to La Push ever again. Thank god! But...

I looked at Carlisle, fear filling me. He saw the naked fright in my eyes and took my hand consolingly.

"What would you say," he spoke very deliberately, looking into my eyes to assess my reaction, "to coming home with me and recuperating in our home?"

I looked at him blankly, wonderingly.

Carlisle hastened to explain. "You won't be able to return to school for at least a month. My wife Esme works from home, so she can care for you when I have to be here. Our kids can bring home your assignments from school so that you can catch up with your classes. And they can also help to keep you entertained." He paused, smiling. "Alice is quite excited about having you join us, and she's hoping very much that you will accept, and Esme has already redecorated a guest room on the first floor for you so that you don't have to bother with the stairs."

"But...the others?" I croaked.

Carlisle took my hand in both of his cold ones. "We are all looking forward to having you stay with us," he assured me warmly.

But I shook my head, remembering the dark eyes glaring at me with malevolence from that too-perfect face. "Not Edward," I whispered. "He hates me."

So that's Chapter 24! I hope you liked it!

Please drop me a review and let me know! :)

Next update: Saturday, unless my schedule magically clears.

Love to you all,

Cassandra :)