I woke up with a start; a sudden chill running up my exposed arms caused goosebumps to spread across my skin.
'Why is it so cold?'I furrowed my eyebrows as I blinked rapidly, trying to adjust my stinging eyes to the harsh brightness. The pain in my head was still there, intensified to a degree I hadn't thought possible. I tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down.
"No, no. Lay down, mi amor." Mom's quavering voice reached my ears, sounding as though she'd been crying and was completely worn out. Her hands instinctively cupped my face and head, and she murmured a few things the doctor had mentioned, which I tried to listen to.
"How are you feeling?" Her voice cracked slightly at the end, a dead giveaway that she was either emotional or on the verge of breaking down.
"I feel like my head is split open," I groaned, adjusting my head on the pillow. As my awareness returned, I began to take in my surroundings. I spotted the now almost-empty IV bag hanging nearby and noticed a few nurses making their rounds.
Looking up at Mom, I saw her standing from her seat next to my bed, clutching Angela's raincoat that I had been wearing this morning. Her knuckles were white from gripping it so tightly, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Mom, who was usually so put together and neat, looked disheveled and scared out of her wits. Her dark hair, usually kept in a neat bun, was now down and starting to frizz. Her wrinkled scrubs, which she prided herself on keeping immaculate even after a long day at work, now bore the marks of her distress.
"Where's—" I began, but Mom cut me off, gently touching my face. Her hands were soft and warm as she examined me with a meticulous tenderness.
"Angela's at home with Isaac. Is the light bothering you?" she asked. I mentally rolled my eyes, recognizing her unwavering concern for our health.
"It's not so bad," I replied, but she gave me a tired look, her eyes full of concern that she hadn't yet voiced. It was as if she knew I was lying just to reassure her. Her hazel eyes locked onto mine, unwavering and filled with worry. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it turned into a grimace as my head throbbed again. She returned the gesture with a sad smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"We have to wait for the doctor to get the results. So just lay down and rest, okay?" she instructed. She rose from her seat, leaving Angela's raincoat draped over the armrest. Her unrelenting gaze studied every inch of me before she walked away.
Despite her departure, I felt her worry linger in the air. Determined to sit up, I moved slowly, wincing as my head protested with a wave of dizziness. I gritted my teeth and continued, managing to prop myself up slightly.
The room swam for a moment before settling into a stable blur. I took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the hospital room seep into my bones. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils, mingling with the faint scent of the raincoat. I glanced around, taking in the beeping monitors and the rhythmic footsteps of nurses as they passed by my room. The pale fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare on the white walls, making everything seem even colder. I felt the weight of the situation pressing down on me.
My mother's worry, the pain in my head, and the cold reality of the hospital room all merged into a heavy blanket of unease. I leaned back against the pillows, trying to find a comfortable position, and closed my eyes, hoping for some respite from the relentless ache.
I caught Bella's eye as she sat on her own hospital bed, positioned to the left of mine. She gave me a small smile and a wave. "How long have we been here?" I asked, my voice sounding groggy.
Bella shrugged, glancing at the door my mom had just walked through before turning back to me. "A few hours. Are you okay? You fainted right when Angela grabbed you. She screamed when you went down." Bella's words made my face heat up with embarrassment at the thought of a hysterical Angela.
"My head is killing me, but I think I'll survive," I whispered, trying to sound reassuring. I wasn't lying per se, but my head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. I groaned, placing my hand on my forehead and closing my eyes against the intensity of the pain.
"Ellie, are you okay?" I heard Tyler's concerned voice nearby.
"She hit her head pretty hard," Bella responded bitterly, her tone sharp with residual anger.
I kept my eyes closed, doing my best to stave off the waves of nausea washing over me.'Maybe I should have just listened,'I cursed myself for sitting up after mom advised not to.
I heard the door open again and assumed Bella's dad had arrived with my mom. Mom's voice, tinged with annoyance, filled the room as she recounted the details of the accident. She focused on Bella's condition, indicating that Bella's dad hadn't been there when we were initially checked in.
Gathering myself, I took a few deep breaths, waiting for the nausea to subside and the pain to become more bearable. Once I felt reasonably sure I wasn't going to be sick and the pain had dulled slightly, I opened my eyes again. This time, the light didn't bother me as much, and I sighed in relief. The room was still bright, but now I could focus better.
Bella's bed was surrounded by medical equipment, and she looked pale but alert. Bella was still watching me, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. I could see Tyler standing awkwardly by the door, his face pale and guilt-ridden. My mom was talking to Bella's dad near the entrance, her gestures animated as she explained the situation.
The sterile scent of the hospital was overwhelming, mingling with the faint antiseptic smell that clung to everything. I took in the beeping monitors, the white walls, and the rhythmic footsteps of the nurses passing by.
"You okay?" Bella's voice was soft, not really expecting an answer since she could tell I wasn't wincing or puking anymore. I managed to give her a small smile, though it felt weak and forced.
"I think I'm okay," I murmured more to myself than to anyone else. I glanced at Bella again, who was still looking at me with that small, reassuring smile. It was comforting in a way, knowing that despite the chaos, we were both still here, still alive.
I noticed Bella's dad, Sheriff Swan, dressed in his usual black Sheriff's jacket and matching hat, speaking quietly with my mom. Bella, meanwhile, had her eyes fixed on Tyler, who was doing his best to get both of our attention. Over Bella's shoulder, I could see him mouthing continuous apologies. His dark hair, usually styled in long braids, was now in tight coils, and his left eye was swollen with scratches and bruises from the accident. I could only imagine how disheveled I looked. Compared to Bella, who looked relatively unscathed, I knew I must have appeared a mess.
'How's that even possible?'I wondered sourly, trying to make sense of it. I attempted to tune into my mom's conversation with Sheriff Swan, but Tyler's persistent apologies kept distracting me. Despite my irritation, a tinge of sympathy crept into my gut. Sheriff Swan, clearly fed up, yanked the curtains closed to shield Bella and me from Tyler's view.
He proclaimed that he would revoke Tyler's license for this incident. His declaration didn't bring much comfort to Bella nor me, but my mom seemed to appreciate the gesture. She gave Sheriff Swan a faint smile before making her way over to me. The exhaustion and worry were evident in her eyes, but her presence brought a small measure of relief.
"I heard the Sheriff's daughter was in—" Doctor Cullen paused as he walked through the doors, his golden eyes scanning the room until they landed on Bella and me. "—as well as Miss Weber."
The blood rushed to my cheeks as he shook hands with my mother and Sheriff Swan. Doctor Cullen was nothing like Edward. While girls swooned over the teenager, his adoptive father was even more striking.
The nurses nearby were clearly distracted, too captivated by his presence to focus on their tasks, confirming my thoughts. His blonde hair was styled neatly, and he towered over the Sheriff. His piercing golden eyes, though tired, radiated genuine care for the townspeople. While his adoptive children looked like models, he resembled a movie star—a weary one. The dark circles under his eyes were more noticeable under the bright ceiling lights, suggesting that the recent string of deaths my dad had mentioned was weighing heavily on him.
Chills ran down my spine as the gruesome images flashed through my mind. Sensing my discomfort, my mom wrapped one of the hospital blankets around my shoulders, mistaking my shivers as a response to the cold rather than the vivid nightmare I'd experienced.
"How are you feeling?" she murmured, rubbing soothing patterns on my back. I blinked a few times, the throbbing pain in my head coming and going.
"Like I'm hungover," I muttered, wincing as she pinched me in reprimand. Her eyes were serious, not in the mood for jokes.
Doctor Cullen seized the opportunity to check on me, the one who seemed on the verge of puking, while Bella appeared perfectly fine.'
Lucky duck,'I thought bitterly as the assault of light hit my eyes.
"My apologies; I should have warned you. Try opening them again," Doctor Cullen advised. I tried, but the pain in my head returned with a vengeance, and the heavy feeling in my gut became more pronounced.
"I don't think I can," I croaked, doing my best to comply. He hummed to himself, his cold hands examining my head gently but thoroughly, making me shiver and tense up. He angled my head to the sides, checked the back, and tapped on a particularly tender bump.
"Just as I suspected," he said, pausing to retrieve something that sounded like files. "The scans indicate that Eleanor has received blunt force trauma to the back of her head. It's difficult to determine if she has a concussion. I recommend she stay home for a few days to rest and ensure she isn't—" I tuned out the rest of the conversation.
The throbbing in my head made it hard to focus, and overthinking only added to my exhaustion. My mom's face was a blur of concern as she listened intently, and Bella gave me a sympathetic look from her own bed.
Despite everything, having them there brought a small measure of comfort in the midst of the chaos. I yawned, tugging the hospital blanket closer to me. The chill in the small hospital was not helping my situation. I heard my mom respond quickly with understanding to something the doctor said. I could feel Bella's gaze on me, but I was too weak to do much about it.
"It could have been worse if your son, Edward, hadn't been there," she said. My face scrunched up in confusion.
'Edward was there?'I cursed my sensitive eyes, wishing I could have a silent conversation with Bella about this.
'That's not possible. He was across the parking lot. Wasn't he?'Before I could convince myself that he wasn't anywhere near us—which I knew to be true—I promised myself to discuss it with her later when we were alone and in less pain.
I winced, feeling the sudden urge to throw up. I quickly laid back on the bed, the coolness of the sheets easing the nausea. I adjusted my head to avoid putting pressure on the tender bump, trying my best to listen to the conversation. I could hear the squeaking of boots as someone shuffled around. Was it Bella's dad?
"Edward? Your boy?" Sheriff Swan asked. I couldn't catch the rest of the conversation as they moved farther from my bed, and I began to doze off. I didn't know how long I had been napping until my mom came back. She kissed my temple and patted my back gently.
"Let's go, mija," she murmured, helping me out of bed and into a wheelchair. A nurse came to assist as well. It felt awkward at first being wheeled around by my mom, but I was too weak to walk on my own.
The exhaustion and the pain made every movement feel monumental. As Mom stopped at the nurse's station to grab some paperwork and my medication, snippets of a conversation floated to my ears from a nearby group of nurses. They stood clustered around, clutching their coffee mugs and water jugs. Although they weren't too far away, my blurry vision prevented me from distinguishing their features clearly. One of them seemed disinterested, sipping her drink while still listening to the conversation.
"I heard they found more bodies in the woods. Do you know who?" one nurse asked, her voice tinged with fear. Another nurse's grip tightened on her mug, indicating she might have more information.
"They found Maddison. Her throat—" I lost track of the conversation as Mom abruptly started wheeling me towards the exit, cutting off the nurses' discussion.
"Do you think you can walk to the car?" Mom asked, assisting me out of the wheelchair. I nodded silently, afraid to speak for fear of vomiting.
'Are there more dead bodies being found in the woods?'I wondered, my mind drifting to the potential predators lurking in the forest. A sickening feeling crawled up my spine as the words sank in.'Or perhaps a person.'Suddenly, the image of the striking redhead intruded into my thoughts, unwelcome and unsettling. I mentally shook my head, digging my nails into my palms to refocus on the present moment.
"Thank goodness it's just your head and nothing else," Mom sighed with relief as she helped me into the car. Too exhausted to respond, I remained silent, my mind too foggy to contemplate questions about my health.
Mom started the car, quickly handing me a bag of prescribed medicine and her purse. I kept my eyes shut, hoping to alleviate the queasiness creeping over me. It was a rare moment of silence in the car; usually, Mom blasted her favorite Spanish music or listened to audiobooks. The gravity of my near-death experience seemed to weigh heavily on her, more than I had initially realized. Guilt gnawed at my chest, a relentless rock hammering against my ribs for causing her worry. Licking my dry lips, I leaned against the cool window, trying to soothe my guilt and nerves.
Upon arriving home, Mom hurried to my side, helping me up the stairs and changing me into sweats and an old t-shirt before tucking me into bed. Although I was capable of managing these tasks myself, I knew Mom needed this. During the car ride, she had repeatedly rubbed my head or touched me, seeking reassurance.
"Duermete, mija," Mom murmured, stroking a few strands of my hair as if I were a child again. Her gentle massage avoided the tender bump on my head.
"Doctor Cullen said you could sleep as long as I check on you. So, I'll occasionally wake you up to check how you're feeling. Then we can get you something to eat before taking some medicine. Okay?" She kissed my cheek, and as she left the room, closing the door behind her, I knew I should try to rest. But rest was elusive.
The chilling thought of my near-death experience had nestled itself firmly in my mind. I had almost died today, crushed between two cars. Fear surged through me, chilling me to the core, and every fiber of my being froze in response. Sitting up slowly, I glanced at my sister's occupied bed. It was past 1 in the morning, the moon's light giving me a clear view of Angela's sleeping face. A few hours ago she had tended to me, fussing over me with juice, medicine, and food. Yet, she had been remarkably quiet, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her usually neat appearance now as crumpled as Mom's, if not more so. Unwanted tears welled in my eyes as everything that transpired overwhelmed me. I had tried to pretend that the nightmares and today's accident hadn't affected me, but it was a futile facade.
I had always strived to appear strong, fearing the burden of others' worries. But after today, my body and mind were at odds with each other, unable to reconcile the events that had transpired. As I heard the soft murmurings of my parents downstairs and the muffled cries of my Mom, I realized how close I had come to death.
Wiping away tears, I cried quietly to myself, pulling the duvet closer for comfort and to muffle any sound. I didn't want anyone, especially Mom or Dad, to feel worse than they already did. If only I had known what would happen, I would have opened up more to my parents or cherished their worries and embraces. Maybe then, I wouldn't have felt the overwhelming need to pretend I was okay. But the truth was, I was losing control, emotionally unraveling.
"Everything will get better," I muttered to myself, hoping that repetition would make it true. Little did I know how wrong I was.