Chapter Thirty-Four
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A/N- You will be confused and possibly upset when reading this chapter. Please read all of it before jumping to conclusions and/or plotting my demise. Thank you.
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The murky shadowland is my prison. I cannot see, nor can I call out for help. But doing nothing isn't an option. Ewar is about to make the biggest mistake of our lives. I have to stop him somehow.
As I consider what I should do, my lonesome existence is disturbed.
Pressure begins weighing on my chest, similar to when an astronaut is being rocketed into outer space. The instant the crushing sensation eases off, numbing cold sweeps in. It encases me in a burial shroud, seeping freely into my airways until I choke.
I can't breathe!
Is it possible to writhe in agony yet still be paralyzed? Before this, I would have said no.
My last threads of consciousness are snapped. I sink further into the abyss.
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I come to gradually.
The previously unrelenting darkness parts like a theater curtain, revealing a pleasant scene. A thatched roof is above my head. Sunlight filters into the room, bestowing a welcoming ambiance.
I can see again!
I'm up on my feet within seconds. How did I get here? My house is in better condition now than it was weeks earlier when we had to flee from the village. Baskets of food are stacked neatly in the back. The bed looks cozy with all those fur blankets piled on top. A fire burns cheerfully in the center hearth.
Best of all, Ewar is reclined casually by the fire. He is keeping tabs on a rack of meat roasting over the flames.
My last memory was of him carrying me to that God-awful cave in the Lake District. He was sending me back to the twenty-first century. At least... I thought he was. I guess I was wrong. He brought us home instead!
His eyes twinkle when he notices me across the room. It sets my heart to flutter. He shifts his head a little, signaling for me to come closer.
I do so without question.
I drop to my knees beside him, never once looking elsewhere. He smiles at my awed expression. "Why do you stare at me?" he asks.
"I'm sorry. You're just... so beautiful."
He chuckles. "That's not what you called me last night. You said I was a 'beast in bed'."
"And you are. You're both. You're everything."
He hums and leans forward, capturing my lips. Our kiss starts sweet but quickly evolves to sensual. He drags me onto his lap. My legs wrap around his waist. His hands roam my body, exploring my curves and teasing my most sensitive spots. At this rate, I'll be climaxing before I even make it out of my clothes.
His mouth wanders down my neck, leaving behind marks. "I hope you're hungry," he says while sucking my skin. "I have something long and thick for your throat, Damara."
Neither of us are prudes. In our years together, he and I have done nearly every intimate act a couple can do. But what he just said... Something isn't right.
"Damara? Why did you call me that?"
His answering laugh has a mocking edge to it. "Because that is your name. Have you forgotten, my Goddess?"
That voice doesn't belong to Ewar.
I shove the imposter from my neck. To my horror, I find Ora grinning from ear to ear.
He leaps like a tiger before I can get away, knocking me backward. I struggle and kick, but he keeps me pinned to the floor. He dips his head again. This time he isn't lavishing kisses. Ora's teeth sink into my throat. His tongue laps at the flow of blood like an animal drinking at a water hole.
He wants my soul. He's going to kill me!
I open my mouth to scream. Nothing comes out.
The scene changes without rhyme or reason. My house disappears. A dark forest springs up. Ora is nowhere in sight.
I have no opportunity to rejoice in my escape.
Jaihem bursts from behind a tree. I take off running; he gives chase. He howls with laughter each time I stumble over a root or rock. What a dick! I can't believe I ever thought he was just some weird but harmless guy.
I peek over a shoulder to check on his progress. Before my eyes, Jaihem dissolves into thin air.
A pack of wolves has replaced him.
A barrage of yips and howls assaults my ears. The wolves' teeth drip with saliva. I am aware they could catch me anytime they please. Once the thrill of the hunt wears off, they will stop playing games and I will become their next meal.
Movement off to the side draws my attention. Initially, I fear that a wolf is sneaking up on me. But, no. I discover that Alie is running alongside me now.
What the... How did she end up in this predicament too?! I would ask her, but my labored breathing keeps me from uttering a word.
All at once, my feet become heavier, as though weights have been attached to both ankles. I can barely pick them up. Alie yells for me to move faster, but I can't! It's like I'm running in slow motion.
I am dead meat!
I glance behind us to check on the wolves. They are much too close. In the time it takes for me to turn back around, a bow magically appears in Alie's possession. A quiver of arrows too.
What a godsend. I can defend us against the pack now!
She tries handing the bow and arrows to me, a difficult maneuver when you're on the run. I'm reaching for the bow. My fingertips make contact with the wood...
The weapon fades into nothing, gone in a snap.
Alie, the forest, and the bloodthirsty wolves went with it. I am alone once again. New terrors develop in their place, torturing me one at a time.
Ehmay has been captured by a band of Soul Eaters. She screams for me to save her. I can't move! My wrists and ankles are bound together by thick rope...
A cave lion enters our peaceful village, roaring with hunger. I pick up a spear so I can scare it away. As soon as I launch it, the spear morphs into a twig. It bounces harmlessly off the lion's back. The monster feline licks its chops and advances in my direction...
It's suddenly winter. From a distance, I see a human figure walking on a frozen lake. The ice breaks, sending the person straight into the icy water. I jump in after them. Just before my need for oxygen can no longer be suppressed, I find the drowning victim near the bottom of the lake. With an arm around their waist, I paddle us to shore. The light of day shines on the person I rescued. I receive a shock.
It's my own face I see. Pale white. Eyes open and unseeing. I am a corpse and nothing more.
An instant later, I am transported to an entirely different place, experiencing more unspeakable horrors. This happens again, and again, and again.
How many more times will I find myself being chased, or held against my will by some monster standing on two legs? How many more times must I watch someone I care for be taken away?!
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"Bella."
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A voice speaks from everywhere and nowhere, an echoing anomaly. The disturbing scenes around me shatter like glass. My name is called repeatedly. It guides me through the darkness and into the unknown.
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Whispers.
Sterile humming in the background.
This is what greets me as my eyelids crack open.
Blinding light forces me to slam my eyes shut again. I can't help but groan. My head is pounding. I'm pretty sure a death metal band is performing a concert inside my skull.
"Bella! Honey, can you hear me?"
The voice compels me to open my eyes a second time. I squint. My pupils adjust to the stimuli.
I look around in confusion. If I wasn't currently experiencing the worst headache of my life, I would swear none of this was real.
I am in a white room. Medical equipment is positioned around the bed. Various tubes run in and out of my arms, nostrils, and underneath my hospital gown. Wires attached to my scalp connect me to a machine. It produces wave after wave of squiggly lines.
Two faces are hovering over me. One is unfamiliar. The second person I recognize, even though I haven't seen her in years.
Crow's feet are developing around my mom's eyes. Her hair has blonde highlights, no doubt to hide the beginning stages of gray. Still, she looks great, at least ten years younger than the age on her birth certificate.
She lets out a gasp. "You're awake." She glances off to the side, waving to someone. "Look, Phil! Bella's opened her eyes!"
"That's great, Renee. I'll come check it out in a sec - just as soon as this inning is over."
Mom smiles indulgently and twirls back around. "You'll have to excuse him. Phil's favorite team is playing today, so he's keeping up with the game on his phone. You know how obsessed he is with anything sports related." She laughs. "If only you had woken up before the game started!"
The stranger standing by the bed speaks for the first time. "Mrs. Dwyer, I need to examine your daughter. Could you please give me some space?"
Mom backs away without argument. Cool hands begin poking and prodding me. The woman isn't unkind, though. As she continues with the exam, my eyes travel to the name tag dangling from her white coat. Doctor Mia Snow.
Snow...
Snow like the heaps we get every winter in the village. Whenever a blizzard passes through, Ewar and Jas make it a competition to see who can clear a path between our houses the quickest. It's dumb, but Alie and I enjoy watching the rivalry play out...
"How are you feelin', Ms. Swan?"
I blink, snapping back to the present. The doctor just asked a question, I think. Her accent isn't the posh Queen's English like Alistair uses. This is more warm and folksy, yet it's also unmistakeably British.
Even now, my mind wants to wander. I have to focus hard on answering her question before it slips away. It takes extra effort to put my thoughts into words.
"T-tired."
The doctor nods. "Any pain?"
"M-my head..." Naturally, I touch my temple. I find a bandage there.
"We'll adjust your pain medication and see if that helps." A flashlight is beamed into my already over-strained eyes. "Follow the light, please. There you go. Well done." She pockets the flashlight and her tone becomes more gentle. "Do you know where you are?"
"... hospital?"
"Correct." She mentions the name but it flies over my head. "Do you know why you're here?"
Her question stumps me for a moment. How did I end up here?
An influx of images comes crashing down.
The Soul Eaters. A terrible battle. Ora was after me. Ewar came to the rescue. Ora died by his hand.
My memories are spotty after that point. All I can say for certain is that something must have gone terribly wrong. Did I end up getting sick? No, they wouldn't put a bandage around my head if I was ill. I must have been injured somehow.
Another memory surfaces. I was in Ewar's arms. We were in the Lake District, and he was carrying me. I suppose he wanted to put me on that damn time-traveling chair. He and Alistair must have been successful at sending me back, because now I'm in the time and place I never intended to see again.
I can't believe they would do such a thing! I would've gotten better quicker if I had Ewar by my side. As soon as I get out of this hospital, I'm going straight back to the Ice Age to kick his ass!
Yeah, that's a lie. I'll be too busy kissing him...
The doctor clears her throat. "Ms. Swan, do you remember? Why are you at the hospital?"
"I d-don't know. M-my husband sent m-me."
The doctor frowns. She glances questioningly at Mom. "Husband?"
Mom shakes her head. "Bella's single."
"That's n-not true. I'm married now."
Mom giggles nervously. "Really, Bella! What a silly thing to say. We just talked on the phone two weeks ago. You don't even have a steady friend with benefits, let alone a husband!"
My breathing accelerates. Only two weeks ago? This is wrong. Nothing makes sense!
I seize the doctor's arm, fingernails burying in the sleeve. "No! I couldn't've talked to her then. I've been g-gone for years. You have to b-believe me!"
The doctor looks from me to Mom. After several rounds, she addresses me again. "Where is your husband now?"
"... I'm n-not sure. Home, maybe."
"I see. And where did you meet this man?"
"In the w-woods. He fought a m-mammoth for me."
Mom huffs and throws out her hand, doing an "I told you so" gesture. The doctor purses her lips before responding. "It's common for patients with traumatic brain injuries to experience memory loss and vivid dreams-"
"It wasn't a dream," I cut in irritably. "It was real. ALL OF IT."
"I'm sure it felt real, but-"
I don't wait for her to finish. This is bullshit! Mom doesn't believe me. The doctor doesn't believe me either. I'm getting on that chair and going home right this minute!
I sit up in bed. The room spins. While fighting off the dizziness and nausea, I concentrate on getting the fuck out of here. This is easier said than done. A multitude of tubes and wires hold me captive. They remind me of how Jaihem tied me up.
This doesn't help calm me down.
Heart pounding and head throbbing, I reach for the tube sticking from the inside of my elbow. Removing the tape proves to be tricky. What the hell happened to my hand-eye coordination? Every time I try to grab the tape, I miss it completely.
I am so confused by this discovery, the ambush comes out of nowhere.
Several hands force me to lie back on the bed. I resist but am easily overpowered. Someone is yelling their head off, cursing and thrashing around.
I think that someone is me.
Through my rage, I hear Mom begging me to "act like an adult" and do as the doctor says. I ignore her.
A cool sensation rushes through my veins. My eyelids start to droop. Belatedly, I realize they've outsmarted me. Sedatives must have been added to the IV drip.
I get in one last whimper before the darkness once again pulls me under.
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The story comes out in dribbles in the days following my breakdown.
"We don't want to upset you by revealing too much at once," they say. "They" being the doctors and nurses who care for me, in addition to my mother.
So, in doses small enough for me to bear, I am told what really happened to me. Or, at least, what the police have pieced together so far.
They say I was at work. I had been tasked to clean the Tuddleston House Museum after hours, a job I was not normally assigned. Up to this point, I can corroborate their claim. I do recall Mr Eleazar, the museum director and head asshole, basically telling me I'd lose my job if I didn't fill in for the caretaker that night.
Here's where our stories diverge. While I could swear on my life I was sent back in time, the official story is much more sinister.
At approximately nine in the evening, they say a power outage took out the entire city block. The museum had no backup generator, which meant the security system went down as well. Local authorities are unsure if this was coincidence or premeditated, though they're betting on the latter.
They say the intruder (or intruders) most likely entered the building by an unlocked rear exit. It's believed their target was the museum's extensive collection of rare art and antiques. However, before the thieves could plunder to their hearts' content, they must have discovered they were not alone.
What's a criminal to do when an innocent museum employee walks in while you're in the middle of committing a felony?
You knock her out and dump her unconscious body in the wilderness, of course. If you're lucky, the witness to your crime will be dead by morning.
I was found the very next day along a hiking trail, barely clinging to life. It had rained in the hours before dawn, soaking me to the bone. Water was in my lungs. If it had been any season other than summer, I likely would have succumbed to hypothermia long before help arrived.
Of more concern were the injuries. Some of my ribs were bruised. My head had a deep gash where I had been struck by a blunt object of some kind. My brain had swollen. The doctors decided that I should be placed into a medically induced coma so emergency surgery could be performed.
Approximately ten days later, the swelling had gone down and I was allowed to wake up.
I wish I hadn't.
How do you cope with news like this? To be told that everything you thought had happened was wrong ? How do you recover when the three happiest years of your life was only an elaborate dream?
The short answer: you don't. There's no getting over it. Not ever.
I go into mourning from my hospital bed. Regardless of what the doctors tell me, my heart insists I am a widow. I lost family and close friends too. Ehmay, Arl, Alie, Oza, Afrin, and many others. I love them all so much. How could there be a world where they never existed? It feels like blasphemy to even consider it.
A permanent dark cloud hangs over my head. I shut down, refusing to speak or interact with anyone around me. I cover my ears when the doctors try to discuss what they claim to have happened that night at the museum. I turn my nose up at the food the hospital staff delivers to my room. Doctor Snow threatened to reinsert a feeding tube in my abdomen if I don't start eating soon.
In response, I flipped on my side and went back to staring at the wall. I'm sure she'll make good on her threat eventually. But for now, I couldn't care less.
They say it's perfectly normal for someone in my condition to wake up agitated, confused, and delusional. My brain is still in recovery. It takes time for it to heal. As long as I continue with my medication and participate in intensive physical and psychological therapy once I am well enough, they say my depression will ease off. I will learn to adjust and can get back to living my life.
No one understands. My life ended the second I woke up.
Mom thinks she can cure my blues through cheerfulness alone. During visiting hours, she sits on the edge of my bed and chats about anything that pops into her head. This primarily involves gossip or memes she's dredged up from Facebook. It doesn't faze her that I never say a peep in return. Sometimes I wonder if she's noticed that she's basically talking to herself.
Every available flat surface in the room is cluttered with flower arrangements and cheesy get-well-soon gifts. I've recognized the surnames of only a handful of the gift-givers. Two flower bouquets are from distant relatives, and one is from the family of an old high school classmate of mine. The rest of the gifts were sent by Mom's friends and associates in Florida, people I have never met and probably never will. Due to the prevalence of stuffed animals being sent, I suspect most of Mom's friends are under the impression that I'm still a child.
Mr Eleazar, my boss, sent the largest bouquet so far - three dozen white and red long-stemmed roses in a crystal vase. Mom can't stop gushing about how gorgeous and expensive it must have been.
I inwardly tsk.
Those roses are nothing in comparison to the wild ones that grow in the forest outside of the gorge. Alie used the earthy pink blooms to decorate my hair at my very first Damara's festival celebration. I can still remember how Ewar removed the one from above my ear and caressed the petals, seducing me with a single smirk.
Then, I recall what the doctors keep telling me. All of that was a fantasy. None of it was real. There is no gorge, no Alie, and no Ewar.
Mom doesn't understand why I've suddenly burst into choking sobs. She calls the nurse to come deal with my outburst.
My stepfather has taken a different approach during my hospital stay. Phil is too busy playing on his phone to pressure me about getting better. He comes and goes during visiting hours with a simple "hi" or "see ya later." I could have a grand mal seizure and he probably wouldn't notice unless I was blocking his view of the TV.
Yesterday, that indifference changed. He decided to say more than three words to me in a single conversation (at my mother's urging, most likely).
"Hey, Bella. You're worrying Renee. Cut it out."
Silence was my response.
Sleep is the only escape from this bland existence. Ewar waits for me there. He doesn't criticize my lack of motivation to get better. He doesn't make me feel guilty for focusing only on my unrelenting sorrow. He allows me to hurt, to love, to mourn on my terms and no one else's.
He's almost as wonderful as the version of him I thought was real.
"Rise and shine!"
My dream is cut short by Mom's entrance into the room. I hold in a groan. Fuck. It's morning again - which means Mom has returned from her hotel room well-rested and eager to "cheer me up." Today, along with his phone and laptop, Phil brought a cardboard box. He sits in the corner of the room, in the area usually designated for another patient. So far, I haven't had any roommates.
Mom throws open the curtains. Bright sunlight streams in. "Come on, lazybones! Time to wake up. I have a surprise for you." She pushes away my tray of uneaten breakfast and snatches the box Phil carried in for her. She shakes it, rattling the contents. "Hear that? Guess what it is!"
If I had the mental strength, I would inform her that I give not one single fuck about what's inside that stupid box.
Mom overlooks my disinterest and promptly upends the box. Several objects fall on top of my blanket-covered thighs.
"Do you recognize it? It's the things you had on you the day you were found! The detective assigned to your case gave it to me just before Phil and I came up here. He said they couldn't find anything important. No fingerprints or DNA other than your own. The people who hurt you must not have searched your pockets. I'm surprised they didn't rob you!"
A troubled expression crosses her face as she continues. "That reminds me. The ER doctors cut you out of your clothes when they were getting ready to operate, so I'm sorry to say you won't be getting them back. I hope none of it was designer. I understand it was an emergency, but couldn't the hospital staff have been more considerate? For them to destroy a woman's outfit when they could have just as easily slipped it off and folded it up is outrageous!"
"Renee," Phil gripes from across the room. "I'm on an important call. Mind keeping it down?"
"Oops! Sure thing." She turns back around and winks. "He's preparing for the fantasy football draft and one of his friends is an expert on the subject. Now, where were we? Oh! That's right. You and I are going through your things. Doctor Snow said it might be helpful with recovering your memory! Isn't that exciting?"
She doesn't pause to gauge my reaction. That's probably for the best. She would have only seen my apathy.
"Look, honey. Your phone! Don't you want to check your messages? Hmm. It's out of battery. Don't worry. I'll send Phil to get a charger for you later. And... here's your earrings! Would you like me to put them back in? Err. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't. They're rusted in the back. Must be cheap. You should probably throw them out."
Without a moment's hesitation, that's exactly what she does.
Mom's nose crinkles when she picks up the next item on my lap. "What's this? Looks dingy. Maybe if we soaked it in bleach..."
My mother's yammering is pushed to the farthest corner of my mind. I'm staring at what's in her hand, too frightened to even blink in case it disappears.
It's a comb.
I snatch it from Mom's fingers before she can utter another word. She squeaks at my sudden spark of life. Most of the time I've been lying around like a dead jellyfish. For me to move at all comes as a shock.
Flipping the comb over, I examine it from all sides. The teeth are in perfect condition. None have broken. The shaft is slightly worn in places, indicating this comb has been used frequently. It's made from bone that has turned a pale brownish-yellow.
I can picture the hands that carved this hair accessory. It's the same pair that caressed my body countless times in the comfort of our bed.
Silent tears come, but this time it's from relief.
The need to protect this precious treasure consumes me. I fall back on the bed and curl myself around it, basking in its warm familiarity. This is proof. Ewar isn't some figment of my imagination. He was - is - as real as I am.
I run the comb through my hair, and up and down my neck, imagining it's him that's touching me. It feels glorious. My eyes flutter shut as I bring his creation to my lips for a kiss...
"Bella! What on earth are you doing?"
I freeze. Mom and Phil are staring at me like I've just bought a first-class ticket to Crazy Town.
Quickly, I wipe away evidence of my tears. My throat is dry after having not used it in several days.
"Ahem. This is my comb," I reply hoarsely. "I didn't think I'd ever see it again."
Mom's eyes light up. "You spoke!" She claps like a child who won a round of checkers. "I knew getting your stuff back would help! Didn't I say that, Phil?"
"Yeah, babe. You were right." He taps a finger against his phone, indicating that he's still on a call. "Sorry, Jim. What were you saying again?"
Mom twists her head curiously at the artifact on my bed. "It's a comb?" I nod. She inches closer. "It's... different looking. Smaller than usual, and it doesn't look like it's made of plastic either. Where'd you get it?"
It would be simple to tell her the unvarnished truth. Ewar made it for me. It was a gift, his attempt at impressing me enough to accept his offer of marriage. At the time, I wasn't aware this was his intention. His skill did impress me, though. I accepted the comb - and got a husband along with it.
But I'm not dumb. If I tell Mom where I got this, she won't believe me. No one would.
Claiming that I was transported to the Ice Age and later sent back to this time period by my caveman husband (along with the help of a crackpot inventor who's supposed to have died a hundred years ago) wouldn't be wise. My doctors would probably transfer me to a mental institution as soon as any of that crossed my lips. So, I'll have to behave the way everyone here wants me to, say what they want me to say. In order to get out of this hospital, I will have to play my part right.
I swallow. Inside my head, I'm scrambling for a decent explanation.
"Where did I get the comb? Uh. A craftsman made it. He specializes in making things out of stone and bone."
"Oh! Like an artist?"
"Mmm, yeah."
"Does he have a shop he sells from? Somewhere in London?"
My mouth moves hesitantly before I reply. "He... doesn't have a shop. He works from home. He usually trades his creations for things he needs or gives them away for free."
Mom makes a face. "That's no way to run a business. How will he survive in this economy? Tell him he needs to stop letting people take advantage..."
As she rants about the stupidity of "starving artists", I relax and run my thumb across the comb. It is my inspiration, my motivation.
I can get through this now.
Doctor Snow is pleasantly surprised when she visits an hour later. I'm sitting up in bed, hair combed, and eager to discuss how I can get better. She doesn't sugarcoat the truth: this will be the beginning of a long and difficult journey. Once I am deemed fit enough to leave the hospital, most likely I will need to be checked into a neurological recovery center for extensive rehabilitation. There, I will receive physical therapy to regain my balance, cognitive skills, and strength. She also recommends I talk with someone about my trauma, even though I can't remember much of what happened in the first place.
I agree with it all. Whatever it takes.
When visiting hours are over, Mom leaves the room riding on cloud nine, greatly pleased at my abrupt turnaround. Phil even gives me a thumbs up as he makes his exit. I made his wife happy, so for once in my life, I am awarded his show of approval.
The next morning is rainy. The sun from the day before is nowhere to be found. I don't allow the dreariness to affect me, though. In fact, I'm enjoying watching the raindrops fall from the sky. I have hope again. It brightens my soul despite the weather.
Mom and Phil breeze into the room while I'm finishing my breakfast. Eating is harder than it sounds. My stomach shrunk a lot during my coma and subsequent convalescence. I'm not hungry at all, but I'm aware that putting meat back on my bones is important.
Phil flicks on the TV, drowning out the sounds of the rain hitting the window with inane chatter from the sports network. Mom goes straight into a mostly one-sided conversation about some problem at their hotel. Apparently, the TV stopped working in their room and the maintenance department wouldn't be able to look at it until this morning. Phil was devastated. All he had for entertainment last night was his phone, laptop, and wife.
The doctor comes by on her morning rounds and checks on my progress. I notice Mom glancing at the clock on the wall. Mom continues this trend after the doctor leaves and throughout the morning, sneaking peeks whenever she thinks I'm not paying attention. As the clock strikes 10:30, I can no longer hold my tongue.
"Mom, do you have an appointment or something?"
Her gaze snaps away from the clock. She has the classic deer-in-headlights look about her.
"No... What makes you say that?"
"You keep checking the time. I understand if you need to go somewhere. You shouldn't have to be stuck in this room with me all day long."
She and Phil share a glance. He nods encouragingly.
Mom faces me again. "Ok, I need to tell you something. See, Phil and I were on vacation when the police called to say you were in the hospital. We had only been in Bermuda for a day. We had to cancel everything, hop on a plane, and fly all the way to England to find out what was going on. Not that I regret doing that. I knew you needed me at the time. But now you've gotten so much better! You're sitting up, eating. It's like night and day compared to how you were only yesterday morning.
"But to get back to the subject, Phil and I were talking last night. A business associate of his heard about how our vacation was ruined and wanted to make it up to us. He said Phil and I could use his beach house outside of Miami for the next two weeks - free of charge! You should see the pictures, Bella. The house is a-maz-ing. You name it, it's got it. So..."
I take up where she left off, holding back any sign of judgment. "So, you and Phil want to take the guy up on the offer."
"That's right. But I wasn't sure how to break the news to you..."
"When are you leaving?"
"This evening. I mean, we would be fools to pass this up."
I nod. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime offer."
"It is! I'm so glad you understand. You've always been such a strong, independent girl. You don't need me anymore. To be honest, I'm sure you can't wait until your mother is finally out of your hair!"
Hmm. Independent. Yeah, I'm so "independent" I am required to wear an adult diaper. A nurse has to help change me multiple times a day.
I'll be so fucking happy when I can walk on my own again.
Phil slaps his knees and stands up. "Well, since the cat's out of the bag, I say we should go ahead and check out of the hotel, Renee. The sooner we're at the airport, the quicker we'll get through security."
"Ooh, good point." Renee grabs her purse, gives me a quick one-armed hug, and heads for the door. "Bella, don't push yourself too hard. Remember to rest up every now and then. And if you need help, don't be afraid to ask a nurse."
"Sure," I murmur.
Phil has already left to secure a ride back to the hotel, but Mom pauses at the threshold. Did she hear the withdrawal in my voice just now?
"Is... is there anything you need me to do before we go, sweetie?"
"No, you've done enough."
It's suddenly so quiet, I can hear myself breathing.
She gives an uncertain giggle. "Well, you take care. I'll send you a postcard soon. It'll make you feel like you're right there on the beach with us!"
"Great."
She blows a kiss across the room. "Love you!"
"Same." As the door begins to close with her on the other side, I get the urge to say one more thing. "Hey!"
She sticks her head through the gap. "Yes?"
"Bye, Mom."
Her smile falters a moment but quickly returns to its prior state. If she noticed the finality of my goodbye, she doesn't comment. "Bye, honey."
Then she's gone.
An hour later, the nurse assigned to my room drops by. She finds me in bed, as always, staring out the window. The rain has picked up. The sky is a darker shade of gray.
"Hello! How are you doin'? You feelin' all right?"
"I'm good."
She takes my wrist and prepares to check my pulse. "Pity it's rainin'. We had such lovely weather yesterday."
"Yes, but I like it this way too. It's nice and quiet. Gives you the opportunity to think without distractions."
"Hmm." Her eyes search the room. "No visitors? I could've sworn I saw your mum comin' to visit this mornin'."
"Oh, she was here. She and my stepfather just let me know about a beach vacation they're looking forward to. They're getting on the plane today."
"And leavin' you here all alone?"
I shrug. It's not the first time I've come in second place on my mom's list of priorities. Isn't that how I ended up at my father's house after she remarried? Today is just another example.
The nurse opens her mouth but quickly snaps it shut again. It appears she is struggling with what to say. "Well, that's... It's too bad your family couldn't've stayed longer, especially considerin' your condition."
"It's fine." I smile at her. "I'll be going home soon anyway."
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A/N-
Did I scare you? Sorry if I did. You just experienced a hint of what Bella is going through. Traumatic brain injuries can cause extreme disorientation along with memory loss. Some TBI patients have reported that while they were comatose they had terribly realistic dreams, often incorporating the sounds going on around them as well as the pain of their injury. So, excuse Bella if she seems more out of it than usual. And, yes, there are a couple of big questions she has not yet thought to ask! It's going to take time for her to get her head straightened back on right.
In case you're still worried, I'm going to assure you that Ewar was/is real. Bella didn't just imagine him like Dorothy did the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. However, Bella will have to get her hands on that special chair again (this story's ruby slippers) if she wants to get back to her prehistoric home.
Thanks for reading. :-)