TWO
The tears had finally stopped. Dr. Martin has left Prue alone with her grief. He seemed to instinctively know what she needed. He must be a very good doctor. But Prue had also been thinking. After the initial shock of her sisters' deaths had passed, she began to wonder. How could Leo have died in a car accident? He was a White Lighter. Any injuries he sustained should have healed almost instantly.
She looked over at the phone. It was across the room, not next to the bed. She started to get up but the dizziness and weakness forced her back into the bed. Obviously she was not completely rested up.
Darryl would know what had happened. She could get some answers from him. Well, if she couldn't get to the phone, she'd bring the phone to her. She tapped into her telekinetic power and tried to move the phone to the bed. The phone didn't move. She tried again and still the phone didn't move. It was as if her power was gone.
"Trying to move the phone again?" asked Martin, standing in the doorway. "The first time you woke up, you mumbled something about being able to move objects with your mind. You were still pretty incoherent at the time. Obviously, you still think you can."
"And obviously it isn't working," said Prue.
"You know what I think?" asked Martin. "I think it's a fantasy induced by the head injury you received. As soon as you realize that no one can move objects with their mind, I'm sure it will go away."
"Maybe you're right," said Prue. "This is a lot to take in all at one time."
"I'm sure it is," said Martin, sitting down next to the bed. "And this is about the time you want me to explain Mr. Wyatt's death. It happens every time you wake up. You somehow believe he should have been able to survive the accident. Although you never explain why you believe that."
"Let's just say he has a very sturdy constitution," said Prue.
"Okay," said Martin. "That's what you usually say. Technically, the accident didn't kill him. Surprisingly, his injuries weren't that severe. But he was found with a crossbow bolt in his chest. Frankly, the police have never been able to explain that one. They just figure that, for some reason, you had it in the car. The force of the accident must have driven it into his chest."
"Dark Lighter," whispered Prue.
"I'm sorry, what?" said Martin.
"Oh, nothing," said Prue. "Is that what killed Leo?"
"It appears so," said Martin.
"So, it's okay if I make some phone calls?" asked Prue.
"Call whomever you want," said Martin. "Just don't overdo it. You're still very weak."
"Has anyone been to see me?" asked Prue. "Maybe a tall black man?"
"Inspector Morris," said Martin. "He came by every week the first few months. I haven't seen him recently. He said he was a friend of the family."
"Yes, he is," said Prue.
"Well, he was about the closest thing you had to family," said Martin, "so I let him come by whenever he wanted to."
"I appreciate it," said Prue. "What about my things? My clothes, jewelry, those things?"
"We have them stored for you," said Martin. "I'll have the nurse bring them in."
"Thank you," said Prue, rubbing the middle finger of her right hand.
"Do you feel okay?" asked Martin, noticing what she was doing.
"What?" asked Prue. "Oh, that. Just a nervous habit I have."
"Well, we all have those," said Martin. "I'm decreasing your medication. With any luck, you can be out of here in a few weeks."
"A few weeks?" questioned Prue.
"Your muscles have been unused for over a year," said Martin. "Even with the physical therapy you've been receiving every week, you're still very weak. We need to build you up before I can release you."
"Oh, okay," said Prue. "Thanks for everything."
"Now, get some rest and I'll be in to check on you later," said Martin.
The tears had finally stopped. Dr. Martin has left Prue alone with her grief. He seemed to instinctively know what she needed. He must be a very good doctor. But Prue had also been thinking. After the initial shock of her sisters' deaths had passed, she began to wonder. How could Leo have died in a car accident? He was a White Lighter. Any injuries he sustained should have healed almost instantly.
She looked over at the phone. It was across the room, not next to the bed. She started to get up but the dizziness and weakness forced her back into the bed. Obviously she was not completely rested up.
Darryl would know what had happened. She could get some answers from him. Well, if she couldn't get to the phone, she'd bring the phone to her. She tapped into her telekinetic power and tried to move the phone to the bed. The phone didn't move. She tried again and still the phone didn't move. It was as if her power was gone.
"Trying to move the phone again?" asked Martin, standing in the doorway. "The first time you woke up, you mumbled something about being able to move objects with your mind. You were still pretty incoherent at the time. Obviously, you still think you can."
"And obviously it isn't working," said Prue.
"You know what I think?" asked Martin. "I think it's a fantasy induced by the head injury you received. As soon as you realize that no one can move objects with their mind, I'm sure it will go away."
"Maybe you're right," said Prue. "This is a lot to take in all at one time."
"I'm sure it is," said Martin, sitting down next to the bed. "And this is about the time you want me to explain Mr. Wyatt's death. It happens every time you wake up. You somehow believe he should have been able to survive the accident. Although you never explain why you believe that."
"Let's just say he has a very sturdy constitution," said Prue.
"Okay," said Martin. "That's what you usually say. Technically, the accident didn't kill him. Surprisingly, his injuries weren't that severe. But he was found with a crossbow bolt in his chest. Frankly, the police have never been able to explain that one. They just figure that, for some reason, you had it in the car. The force of the accident must have driven it into his chest."
"Dark Lighter," whispered Prue.
"I'm sorry, what?" said Martin.
"Oh, nothing," said Prue. "Is that what killed Leo?"
"It appears so," said Martin.
"So, it's okay if I make some phone calls?" asked Prue.
"Call whomever you want," said Martin. "Just don't overdo it. You're still very weak."
"Has anyone been to see me?" asked Prue. "Maybe a tall black man?"
"Inspector Morris," said Martin. "He came by every week the first few months. I haven't seen him recently. He said he was a friend of the family."
"Yes, he is," said Prue.
"Well, he was about the closest thing you had to family," said Martin, "so I let him come by whenever he wanted to."
"I appreciate it," said Prue. "What about my things? My clothes, jewelry, those things?"
"We have them stored for you," said Martin. "I'll have the nurse bring them in."
"Thank you," said Prue, rubbing the middle finger of her right hand.
"Do you feel okay?" asked Martin, noticing what she was doing.
"What?" asked Prue. "Oh, that. Just a nervous habit I have."
"Well, we all have those," said Martin. "I'm decreasing your medication. With any luck, you can be out of here in a few weeks."
"A few weeks?" questioned Prue.
"Your muscles have been unused for over a year," said Martin. "Even with the physical therapy you've been receiving every week, you're still very weak. We need to build you up before I can release you."
"Oh, okay," said Prue. "Thanks for everything."
"Now, get some rest and I'll be in to check on you later," said Martin.