Chapter 2
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"When the singer's gone, let the song go on
It's a fine line between the darkness and the dawn
They say in the darkest night, there's a light beyond."
- Chicken Little
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The first thing Cree became aware of was a steady beeping. It was soft, almost taunting, and she felt a sinking feeling of dread in her belly. She resisted the urge to open her eyes. Was she still alive?
Taking a chance, Cree slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the crisp, white brightness of the hospital room. The steady beeping she'd heard early was a monitor, monitoring her heart beats. The smell of medicine hung strongly in the air, though Cree suspected it wasn't for her, but from other rooms. And besides, hospitals always smelled like medicine. That was what she hated most about hospitals; the smell of medicine.
Pushing the thought away, Cree lifted her head a little, wincing. Her wrists throbbed—from her slashing them, no doubt—and her head ached. Her eyes slide down to where the IV was inserted in her arm. She moved her arm experimentally; the IV moved with it, causing pain.
Yep. She was definitely still alive.
Cree expected to feel disappointed, dismayed, determined to try again; after all, didn't she want to die? Instead, relief and guilt surged through her in one great wave. She realized she wanted to live. So she had screwed up… so what? Damn it, she had been given another chance! Wasn't that what mattered in the end?
"Cree?"
Cree looked up, and her heart soared into her throat. Her father was in the hall, peeking into her room. She trembled. "Daddy," she whispered, fighting the urge to cry; she hadn't called him Daddy since she had been five.
"Oh, thank God." Her father moved so he was sitting next to her on the bed; he pulled her roughly into his arms. She buried her face into his chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she choked out, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry…"
She didn't bother trying to control her tears this time, sobbing freely against her father's chest, releasing tears she had held back for months, and she realized that releasing them was even better then releasing her own blood. Her father gently stroked her hair.
"It's okay, Cree," he whispered, his voice thick. "It's okay. It's gonna be all right now…"
It was a lie. Things wouldn't be "all right" for a long time.
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(Sniffles) Aw, poor Cree. Why do I insist on torturing her?
... Because I want to, damn it.
Now you're probably wondering when Cree and Abby will see each other. It will be soon, I promise! Just not right now. Cree needs to have a nice little chat with a person who can help her (COUGHNextchapterCOUGH).
