Chapter Two:
For a while, nobody answers my questions. The doctors and nurses walk in and out, hardly paying me any attention at all. Even more despairing than being ignored, is the fact that I have not seen any familiar faces the past few hours. They could have at least poked their heads in, at least acted like they cared. Another part of my brain tells me to stop putting doubt in my parents' love for me. Well…at least one of them. It says I am alone, scared, and probably under heavy medication. For all I know, people could have come here many times, but I have been asleep.
I also wonder where Lyddie is. Nobody has told me anything of her, and my fear grows with every passing hour. Anxiety overtakes me, and I desperately want to run until I find her. However, my body is in no condition to do much more than the walk to the bathroom, let alone down hallway after hallway.
The staff is avoiding me, I know it. Just as fast as they say hello and goodbye, they are gone. The only conclusion I can come to is that they don't want to answer my questions. Bustling about their business, they avoid my gaze. Deductive reasoning has never been my forte, but I am no idiot either. Something bad is happening, or has happened, or maybe even will happen. This thought does nothing to help ease my worrying.
Finally, I feel as if my body, mind, everything, might break from stress. I call a nurse into my room. The door creaks as she opens it. A blonde girl in her mid-twenties steps through, closing it gently behind her.
"May I help you with something?"
I take a gulp before answering "Yes, I was wondering about my friend, Lyddie Ferfield. Where is she, is she okay?" I see in her eyes that she had been hoping she wouldn't be the one to tell me what someone eventually must.
"She is in surgery, I'm afraid to say."
My heart falls heavily into my gut. I instantly forget what she has said and my mind goes blank. My words are new to me; it is as if I haven't spoken in years.
"What?"
"Lyddie is in surgery. She got the worst injuries of the crash."
It could get worse? Here I am, with only God knows how many broken bones, and Lyddie has it worse? How is that even possible? The nurse is shifting from side to side. She wants to leave, so I dismiss her.
I have hardly two seconds to grab a hold of myself before my mother and father walk into the room. My mom strides over to my bed without any flaw in her step and perches herself on the edge. My father -being the most anti-emotional person there ever was- takes the furthest seat away from me. I shoot a glare in his direction, but he pretends not to notice. I don't understand what is that is so bad that he can't even look at me.
"Honey, how are you feeling?" my attention snaps back to my moms voice.
My tongue feels heavy as it tries to move. "I'm alright mom…how's Lyddie?" Her face falls.
"Seph, sweetie, she's been in surgery for four hours, and they haven't even come halfway to finishing."
Though I don't know why, my eyes immediately fill with tears. I manage to croak "What does that mean?" I know mom's hand is stroking my hair, but I can no longer see anything. In a rush, tears stream down my cheeks.
"There, there. It'll be okay, you know that. Seph, honey, come on now. Shhhh…"
Quickly, I pull myself together and wipe away my last few tears. A sudden weakness overtakes my body, and I have to lie back on the pillows. I hear a faint male voice.
The pathetically small voice sort of sounds like a mouse who could just barely pass as a father in today's society. In ever little squeak, you can hear his disdain for his own daughter. He is the sort of disgusting mouse someone would find in their kitchen and almost instantly jump on a chair to avoid it. Who wouldn't kill that mouse? My mouse is standing and pushing my strong mother to leave so nobody sees them departing the hospital. God forbid anybody thinks he has a deathly ill child, for whatever reason he may have. She finally gives in, and kisses my forehead before leaving. The mouse doesn't even look at me as he walks out.
My eyes drift open. I could swear I'm in a dream, because everything going on seems far away. People are running around and yelling things I can't understand. I want to know what's going on, but I can't get out of this godforsaken bed. Minutes tick by, but the craziness does not slow. My heart is practically jumping out of my chest. I am so scared, and I can only sit there and take the stress. As consciousness returns, I pick out words that my ears strain to hear over the incessant, wild beeping of a heart monitor.
"She's crashing!"
"Get a cart in here, stat!"
"I need a doctor over here!"
"Nurse!"
The fear that overtakes me is intense an inescapable. I feel as if there is not enough oxygen in the room. Then I hear it, that fateful sound that ends a person's life. The whole world seems to stand still, and everyone takes a moment to grieve. Someone shuts off that tear-jerking sound, but the room outside is not as it was ten minutes ago. Some sort of force sweeps through the wing, and everyone hit by it immediately feels some sort of lack of will to continue.
"Call it."
"Time of death, four sixteen."
Four sixteen, four sixteen. That sounds familiar for some reason, but I can't put my finger on what it is. A sudden chill spreads throughout my body. I pull the blankets up to my chin, and settle in for another long nap.