Waking Up
Dark.
Floating neon blue squares and fluorescent pink circles floated behind her eyes. The patterns were addictive. She thought about watching them forever, but her body wanted more. Green circles embraced the blue squares, hugging orange triangles into white balls of light.
She couldn't feel anything but a happy hazy warm feeling. The kind of feeling she felt when she drank one too many and was a little past her limit but not quite stumbling drunk. Pieces peeled back, like the skin of an onion, each layer revealing a cleaner, clearer layer.
Her foot.
It hurt, she thought, or maybe it didn't.
Where was her foot, again?
She had one, or two?
Two she thought, as she tried to remember, something that seemed hazy and difficult, when she knew that it shouldn't be.
Her chest hurt too. Breathing in and out, each breath drew a wisp of pain, still covered under the haze, but still enough to make her realize that consciousness was seeping back into her body.
The worst pain she felt by far was centered behind her eyes. It was a shooting pain, irritating. She wanted it to stop.
She wanted it to stop.
She wanted to tell someone to make it stop.
Her eyes flickered open.
She looked at the ceiling above her.
She didn't know that ceiling.
Slowly, she wondered where the hell she was.
She tried to move her head, but there was so much pain. Her whole body rocked with it, and her open eyes only made it worse.
She closed them.
She waited.
She opened them again. This time, the pain was there, but she could see something. Blurry images.
Things were moving. The tiles. The confusion. Her eyes closed again.
The third time, she heard her name. Her eyes opened and she looked for what happened.
How did they know her?
Where was she?
Her eyes were blurry.
Nothing. Nothing looked familiar. She felt them grabbing her toes.
She wanted to scream at them.
She wanted them to leave her alone.
"Grab my hand," someone said, and she did.
Maybe she was dead.
Her eyes drifted closed.
And then open. One blink. Two blinks.
The face of an angel.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes.
Alex.
She smiled.
She tried to talk.
"Alex," She whispered in her own mind, her mouths moving to words that her body didn't produce.
Alex reached out to her. "Shhh," she whispered. Don't try to talk baby. You were in an accident. You and Elliot."
Elliot.
Oh God.
What happened to Elliot?
"He's okay," she said quickly.
Thank God.
"He's fine. You know how hard-headed he is." Alex joked.
She smiled.
Olivia doesn't remember what Alex is talking about anymore. She's just so pretty.
Against her will, her eyes shut again.
She hopes that her angel will be there when she wakes up.
To Be Continued…