Isabel tripped over the worn rubber lip of her sneakers as she too hurried towards the door; in her rush, she lost her footing and almost careened into the doorframe. At the last second she caught herself on the molding of the door; her faces inches from the patient chart that protruded from the wall. Her eye caught the bright red lettering as she righted herself. Roberts, Summer Aabish Mahrukh.
As Isabel opened the door, another piercing shriek assaulted her ears.
"Isabel, thank God!" Her best friend, Mary Gregson, was the head nurse and general go-to gal on the fifth floor. Mary was struggling with the patient, who was bucking wildly across the weary mattress, against the best efforts of not only Mary, but two other nurses and two resident doctors.
"Grab her leg there," Mary nodded towards the end of the bed and Isabel used all of her upper body strength to pin the girl's leg down, her weak arm muscles protesting. Isabel could now hear the girl babbling, sobbing hysterically.
"What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I see? Aren't my eyes open? Why can't I see?"
"Calm down, honey," Mary grunted as Summer continued to fight. "You have to calm down, sugar, or I'm going to strap you down."
"Don't even think about tying me down, you bitch!" Summer hissed, wrestling and leaping against the weight of her oppressors. She fought harder, jerking her head sideways to try to bite her captor. Mary ducked away easily and twisted Summer's wrist back, making her cry out, this time in pain. "Tell me why I can't see anything!" Summer demanded again, hoarse.
In the meantime, Mary was watching carefully as one of the residents, Kasey Bell, was desperately trying to prepare a sedative syringe, fumbling with the needle.
"Today, Kasey," Mary snapped finally. Kasey locked the needle and grimaced as she stabbed it into the patient's perfectly-tanned thigh. Another scream erupted; Isabel winced. "What the FUCK!"
Within a minute, the struggle had stopped, and Mary proceeded to pull the leather restraints over the side of the bed and strap the patient to the bed. Isabel sighed heavily, stepping back to get her first good look at the girl. She found herself breathless by the beauty of Summer Aabish Mahrukh Roberts. Her mahogany hair was sticking against her sweat-slicked skin, her body both toned and lush. Her now-drooping eyelids obscured eyes so dark they were almost obsidian; her lips were the crimson color of fresh blood.
"What's wrong with her?" one of the younger nurses asked, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room.
"Well, she broke three ribs in the accident, and I'll have to talk with the doctor about her eyesight. This is the first time since she's been awake since they brought her in a week ago."
"She's blind?" Kasey asked hesitantly.
"Apparently," Mary answered dryly. "How much did you give her?"
"She'll be out for a half an hour, tops," Kasey answered efficiently, straightening.
"I'll call the doctor."
I want to be here with her when she wakes up," Isabel spoke up.
Mary turned to her, surprised; their eyes locked for an endless minute.
"Ask if she's in pain," Mary instructed brusquely after a moment's pause, before brushing past Isabel on her way to the door.
Isabel turned back to her patient, stroking a bound hand tentatively, gently. Summer Roberts.
Summer awoke with a start, immediately noticing the apartment was too quiet. The air-conditioner had shut off with a click, the wall clock had inexplicably stopped it's monotonous ticking. Three stories from the ground and in a good part of town, she couldn't discern the distant sound of traffic or emergency sirens. She couldn't even hear the comforting roar of Kurt's snoring from the next room.
She hated waking up in the middle of the night, she never knew what time it was, and though she had never felt unsafe in their little loft, the still silence nevertheless made her a little uneasy. As a child, she had always hated the dark, and now she was condemned to live in it forever.
It was always during this time, in the darkest hours of the night, that her mind leapt, unbidden, back to Seth Cohen. Sure, there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think about him; but it was in the deep silence of these hours that she couldn't escape from him, from the memories that haunted her. They played to her like a grotesque film, a slide show of snapshots from a happy life.
Hot tears sprang to her eyes, unwanted, but instead of wiping them away, she let gravity take it's course; rivulets twisting down olive cheeks. She thought she had gotten over asking herself why anymore. Why did this happen to me, why am I destined to be unhappy? But in the witching hour, she found she always drifted back. She thought she'd run out of tears long ago as well, but these late night cries always proved her wrong. She must have done something awful in a previous life to have deserved this.
Or maybe you just did something awful in this life. Her idle brain sent her spinning through a montage of drunken nights at parties; making fun of Seth Cohen; being cruel to anyone and everyone that wasn't just like her. All those years she had ignored him, never knowing that he was her true love. Why had she wasted so much time? She could have been with him, all that time, enjoying one another while they were both still healthy, and young, and ... not blind, her restless mind filled in the blank.
Why, God? What did I ever do? I was a good person, wasn't I? I volunteered at the hospital, and I did fashion shows to raise money for the battered women's shelter, and I gave my sartorial opinion to any of the girls at school who needed it. I was like, a friend to mankind.
She ordinarily didn't like to wallow in self-pity; Anna had come along and reminded her how smart and strong and independent she was. But when Summer was alone, in the dark, and her heart couldn't take anymore, she would cry. Cry and think about Seth. She wondered where he was and what he was doing.
Were he and Ryan still together, brothers and best friends? Did Seth have a new life, a new love? It had been long enough—almost three years—he surely could have found another girl that would put up with him the way Summer had. But would he love her the way that he had loved Summer?
Would he want to give this new, mysterious woman his children? Would he take her home to Sandy and Kirsten, would they love her as much as they had loved Summer? Summer wondered what she looked like…short and dark and svelte? Or more like Anna; tall and thin and pixie-like? And would she be like Summer? Shallow, but not stupid? Or would they have a million and one things in common, like Seth and Anna? How would he ever be able to look back and remember Summer as the girl of his dreams when he had Mrs. Wonderful in his bed?
Not that Summer wanted him to look back. She didn't want him to think about her at all. She had given Seth Cohen his freedom, she wanted him to enjoy it. Marissa always told her that letting Seth go was the most selfless thing she'd ever done, but in the most secret part of her heart, Summer knew that it wasn't selfless at all. Despite all his bumbling, and fucking up, Seth was truly a good guy. He would have stayed with her until she ruined his life, made him miserable. He would have stayed with her even though his heart had grown cold; he would have stayed with her until he hated her.
But that's not really what you were afraid of, was it? You were scared he wouldn't stay. That even the love he felt for you wouldn't have been enough to make him stay. After all, what are you good for now?
When she really was honest with herself, she deserved to be left on the shore when Seth sailed away to Santa Barbara, or Catalina, or Tahiti, or wherever he went. She had ignored him for six years, she played him hot and cold, hurt his feelings, treated him cruelly.
And all through that, Seth had loved her. He'd always loved her, even when he sailed away on that stupid boat and left her with a stupid note. Boy she hated him for that. She had fancied herself unleaveable.
He had worked so hard to get her back, and she just rubbed it in his face that she was with Zach. It was so frighteningly easy to remember all of the good things—
A broken sob escaped her aching throat, she brought her hand to her mouth, in a fist. She bit into the skin there, desperate to feel anything but the tightness that was filling her chest.
She reached beneath the blanket, tensing almost painfully against her own touch. It had been a while. More tears leaked down her beautiful face. She sobbed, stroking herself until her back arched in a long-awaited climax...
…At that exact same moment, eight blocks away, Seth Cohen awoke with a start.
To be continued…