"You're good to go," the Doctor said.
It was more like two weeks before life resumed as normal. And it was two weeks without any communication with Tig. While she still worked her shifts at the hospital, she was assigned a lighter load.
She harbored insane hopes of seeing him at the hospital again, looking down the corridors, looking up when doors swung open, heart in her throat. One night when she looked up and saw a dark figure approaching the desk, her body shook from the involuntary flutters in her stomach. When she realised it was just the security guard, she figured it was time to admit that she was starting to develop feelings for an outlaw she didn't even know. Perhaps starting was still not honest. She was way past started already.
She slammed her locker, disgusted. I'm in lust with a criminal. My mama would be so proud.
Leaving the hospital, she eyed the dark clouds overhead as she climbed into her VW Beetle and prayed it would start first time. It was old and temperamental. But until she completed her internship, she needed it to run smoothly.
Just another year baby, come on, she coaxed. It started raining and she sent a message of thanks as the Beetle sputtered but started first time.
By the time she pulled out of the lot, the rain was coming down in buckets, visibility almost zero. She drove carefully, turning on her headlights and turning down the stereo. She loved the rain, the smell and the sound. But the downpour was dangerous and scary. An shiver of unease danced down her spine and she shivered. The heater didn't work, so she pulled her jersey closer as she navigated down the road.
Getting to a four-way-stop, she squinted and looked left and right. She saw no lights, no vehicles and couldn't hear anything besides the staccato sounds of the rain as it pounded the earth and her car. Carefully, she accelerated and moved to cross the road. She saw the mini-van a second too late. A silver vehicle, it was practically invisible in the sleet. No lights, no hazards, nothing. The van barreled into her car, hitting the little Beetle on the front passenger side.
She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Terror, cold and bone numbing seized her. She felt her safety belt groan, but it held her in place as the little car skid across the intersection, spinning twice before hitting the pavement, bouncing over it and charging into the barrier.
But the belt was old. And the force was just too much. It snapped and Morena felt her body jerk forward, her torso hitting the steering wheel before being thrown sideways, her head hitting the window. The pane shattered from the force. Pain exploded in her head. She felt hot, sticky blood immediately blur her vision. She would have checked where the bleeding came from, but she didn't have the energy.
All she kept thinking was, please don't let me die. Please don't let me die. She fought the waves of nausea, rumbling, curling, threatening to eject from her throat. The smell of blood drowned out everything else. She fought it hard and fought the panic too. But it was inevitable. She slumped against the steering wheel and didn't have the strength to lift her head. It was easier to just close her eyes.
In the distance she heard the roar of something. Thunder? She couldn't be sure. The rain was still as relentless as ever, soaking her through the broken window, washing away the blood that kept flowing freely from the gaping wounds on her face.
Her head swam and it was really tempting to succumb to the dark. Unbidden she thought about how she really would have loved to kiss him. Just once. An odd thing to ponder in a moment like this.
She moaned and fought to remain conscious. Pain sliced. Everywhere. It was still raining and she felt cold and knew she was wet. But she heard voices. It was disjointed, a collage of sounds that didn't make much sense. She wanted to call out but couldn't get anything to work.
"Call 911!"
"Fucker who drove into her took off."
She moaned when hands, firm but gentle pushed her backwards, her head lolling to the side as her back hit the seat. Pain exploded everywhere.
"It's alright, sweetheart. I got you."
That voice.
She was sobbing. She was sure of it. But she didn't know how that was possible. Maybe it was a dream. The same hands scooped her up and her head hit something hard. She was being carried. And then the rain stopped. Or at least it seemed to. She wasn't getting wet any longer. A heavy jacket.
She tried to open her eyes but her lids were too heavy. More voices.
"Ambulance is here."
"Put her on the gurney, Sir."
She was on a flat surface when she started to convulse. It was so cold. The nausea she tried to contain earlier would no longer be suppressed. Bile mixed with her lunch lurched up her throat and she was turned onto her side as she vomited, her body twitching in reaction to the heaving.
"Jesus Christ."
"Are you a friend? Sir? Are you a friend?"
"No. Yeah. Yeah."
She didn't even feel the needles being stuck into her. But there was a burning sensation. She wanted to moan again but it required energy. She had none.
When she was flat on her back again, she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked rapidly, the lights too bright. She whimpered.
Someone lifted her eye-lids and flashed a penlight back and forth.
"Pupils are responsive. Her name?"
"Morena. Morena sweetheart, open your eyes."
That voice again. It was so familiar. And yet the tone... So soft, so concerned. It soothed.
Her lids were heavy but she tried again. For the voice. The pain ensured that darkness threatened again, but she opened her eyes and her head lolled towards the side closest to the sound.
I know those blue eyes, she thought. But they weren't cold or detached, the emotions she was used to seeing. They were concerned and… afraid.
Did he take my hand and kiss it? Her fingers were enveloped in warmth, but she couldn't be sure.
And then his image began to swim, fading in and out. She closed her eyes as she felt her tears race into her hairline.