Disclaimer: Its called FANFICTION for a reason people!
Warning: The following work of fiction contains scenes of violence, nudity, coarse language, and mature subject matter that some readers may find offensive. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
In other words: This is a pile of complete and utter bullshit. I know it, you know it, and if you don't like that then you should probably find something else to read.
On with the show.
Oh and by the way, to the anonymous reader that posted a review to this story, I only have a couple of things to say to you: First, if you're going to review, have the balls to at least sign in, and 'twagic' is most definitely not a word. Second, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, get over yourself, you obviously missed my disclaimer. And third, if you're reading this message… why are you still here? You obviously don't like it, so why are you wasting your time?
Anyways. To those who want to read, enjoy.
Pain.
So much pain.
It hurt to move, it hurt to think, it hurt to breathe. Why did it hurt so bad?
It felt like forever for her senses to return to her. First was scent: the odour of old sickness and harsh chemical antiseptic assaulted her nose, few places smelt like that. Like a hospital. Why was she in a hospital? When her hearing returned and she could discern the world around her, the beeping of machines and the sound of voices paging doctors over the intercom confirmed her suspicions along with the sensation of rough cotton sheets beneath her fingertips.
It took her forever to open her eyes, her lids must have been weighed down with bricks or something. But when she finally got them open she was greeted with the view of an unfamiliar ceiling. It was one of those industrial metal grid ones with the floating panel inserts. Easy to damage, easy to replace she thought idly. Something shifted near her left hand and she turned to look, her neck muscles screamed at the slight movement. It was someone's head.
Somebody was resting their head on the bed next to her hand… Wait a second… She knew that head, she knew who it was. Who was it?… Who was it?… Then it came to her.
Dominic.
She reached out to touch him, her hand shook from the effort to lift it a few inches. Why was she so weak? She settled her palm on the top of her brothers stubbly scalp, moving it back and forth feeling the prickles of at least a weeks worth of hair growth. She was curious, he never let it get that long, it made his head itch. She let her hand drop back down to the bed.
She was brought out of her musings when her sleeping brother woke up, shifting to lean back in his chair. It looked awful stiff and uncomfortable to sleep in. She watched him stretch and rub one hand over his face, scratching idly at the growth of beard forming along his jaw. He looked directly at her, and it amused her when he had to do a double take to realize she was awake.
"Rosa?" there was disbelief, shock, hope and concern flitting about on his face.
Who's Rosa?
"You're awake?" Dom was out of his chair in an instant and was stroking her face so gently as if she were made of glass, like she'd break or disappear of he pressed too hard. There were tears in his eyes. "Oh god. You scared me so bad Rosa. I thought we lost you." he pressed his lips to her forehead, "Thank god. You're awake, you're awake, you're awake." he whispered over and over like a mantra.
"Mia! She's awake!" he turned his head and her eyes followed to look over his shoulder at a couch the color of lumpy oatmeal except for a swath of black on one of the armrests. "Mia!" he said louder and the black area started to move, rising from the armrest, then parted to show a pretty face that looked so achingly familiar. She knew her.
The girl on the couch locked eyes on her and a strange expression crossed the girls face. Pain, hope, happiness all rolled into one. "Rosa?" she whispered. She knew that voice.
Mia.
She mouthed the word. Her sisters name.
Mia crossed to the bed she lay in, her hands joining with Dom's in stroking her hair, touching her face and her arms. She could see the love in both their faces. Dom's eyes glittered fiercely while Mia let her tears fall freely down her cheeks.
"Rosa." they said, "Oh god, Rosa."
"Sweet little Rosie. You're ok"
Was that her?
What that her name? Rosalie?
…It was.
Her head was foggy, but she remembered. She remembered them. Her family. Her life. Living in New York with Aunt Tessa and Uncle Carlos… The long distance phone calls to L.A. every Sunday… School… Being accepted into Juilliard… Practicing every day… Rehearsals with her classmates… Performing onstage. The last production before graduation… The creak of the old wood stage beneath her bare feet, the scent of floor polish… Her and her fellow performers disgust at the cigarette butts lying all over the floor in their change room from stagehands sneaking smoke breaks… The slight smell of something in the air backstage, almost like engine oil. Nothing to be worried about, they had been told…
The smell of smoke… The heat… The screams… The noise.
Deafening noise…Pain!
Panic started to rise up as memories flooded into her mind. Distantly she heard beeping and alarms going off, her sister calling her name and her brother shouting for a doctor. She struggled, she was being held down. She had to get out, had to get the wooden beam off her chest. The place was on fire! The smoke was burning her lungs, making her cough and her eyes water. The sound of fire crackling nearby made her struggle more, crashes could be heard as debris settled and fell over. She needed to get free, she refused to die like this, among the splintered remains of wood, twisted metal, shattered glass and broken plaster. She could hear people screaming. Screaming for help. From pain. She could see Jenny a few feet over, her eyes were open. She wasn't moving. She was still, so still. Jenny was never still, never ever. She had to get to her, get that metal spike out of her chest. Jenny?.. Jenny!… Jenny!
Rosalie woke slowly, her head hurt. God, everything hurt. Where was she, at the theater? No. The hospital. She remembered seeing her brother, Dom. And Mia was there too. She looked around the room, it was empty. Where did they go? The door opened and she turned to see an older man dressed in a white lab coat, a doctor she assumed.
"Ah, miss Toretto, you're awake I see. How do you feel?"
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hurts." she rasped. Was that her voice?
"Well that's not surprising." said the doctor, "with the extent of your injuries, you'll probably be hurting for quite some time." She looked at him startled. How badly hurt was she?
She must have said this out loud because the doctor reassured her that while her condition was serious, none of the injuries she sustained were life threatening and were quite minor if separately. He explained to her that she had been in a coma for almost two weeks. Dom and Mia chose that time to enter and they sat beside her while he checked her vitals and examined her injuries. She had a hairline fracture along the right temporal bone of her skull, a concussion and a small subdural hematoma, cuts and abrasions everywhere, whiplash to the anterior and posterior aspects of her neck, as well as several fractured ribs, a broken ulna on her right arm, and a sprained ankle.
Apparently, she was one of the lucky ones.
It didn't feel like it.
One of her friends from the drama unit stopped by later the next day with a vase of flowers and a huge card signed by people a Juilliard. Some of the signatures she knew, most she didn't, but it was good to know people were thinking about her. Dom and Mia left to give them some privacy to talk and it was then that Sara broke the news to her.
Rosa was told that of the dancers that were at the theater that night, seven had been killed in the blast. Four more passed away as a result of their injuries a little later in hospital, and nine including herself were on the road to recovery, although two would probably never dance professionally again. Greg was now a paraplegic and Michelle had to have her right leg amputated at the hip.
Rosa cried herself to sleep that night. And many nights thereafter. Her aunt and uncle were killed in the accident too.
Well there's chapter two, I wanted it to be longer but the wording wasn't coming out right so I cut it off for the next chapter, same thing with the dialogue. I hope the part where Rosa's having a Post-Traumatic-Stress flashback made sense and was believable.
Later
Skarlet Rayne