ONE- WILLOW
I force my sluggish eyelids open, blinking at the harsh light. It seems to penetrate my brain like a hot knife, causing a searing pain to slice through my head. I grit my teeth and drag in a breath of air around them. I note that my mouth is so dry that I doubt I could speak if I needed to.
But why? Why the pain? Why the dry mouth? Why the nagging sense that something is terribly wrong, only I can’t remember what it is?
Braving the pain, I crack my lids again, holding them open until my eyes can adjust. As it turns out, the light isn’t that bright after all. In fact, my surroundings seem to be a bit dark.
I stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling with its white squares of dropped ceiling and long rectangles of fluorescent lights. It looks very austere and functional. Clinical almost.
Clinical.
Hospital?
Bits and pieces of the last things I can remember come tumbling back like boulders in a rock slide, bringing with them the emotions attached to each.
Darting across the street.
Urgency.
Hearing Sage’s voice.
Panic.
Seeing the flash of headlights.
Fear.
Absorbing the crunch of metal.
Numbness.
I had a car accident. And I must be in the hospital.
I lie perfectly still as I run an internal diagnostic and make a self-assessment. I need to know what kind of damage was done.
The first thing I do is wiggle my fingers and toes. When they move effortlessly, I sigh in relief. That’s a good sign. At least I’m not paralyzed.
Gingerly, I straighten my arms, reaching for my upper thighs. That’s when I run into my first problem. Only my right arm will move. My left seems…tethered.
I turn my head enough that I can glance down at my left arm. It is bent at a ninety degree angle and strapped across my ribs. It’s completely immobilized and held in place by Velcro cuffs that wind around my forearm and upper arm, attaching them to a band that circles my torso. When I try to lift it, a dull pain radiates through my left shoulder. But at least there’s no cast. No cast means no break. I hope.
I continue feeling my way around my body, raising my head and glancing down a couple of times to make sure I’m not sporting any other apparatus. It seems I’m not. And I’m not missing any “parts” either, which is comforting.
Content that I’m all in one piece, I relax my aching head onto the pillow. Even with my eyes closed, I still know the instant the nurse comes into the room. Although she makes no sound in her rubber-soled shoes, her solid form seems to somehow change the acoustics of the room, dulling the muted beeps and blips coming from somewhere outside my door.
I turn my head to look at her. The fifty-ish, steely-haired nurse raises her eyebrows and gives me an upbeat Oh! of surprise. “You’re awake.”
I nod.
She approaches the bed and starts checking lines and moving my blankets. “Do you know where you are?”
“The hospital,” I croak.
Intelligent blue eyes meet mine. “Need a drink of water before we talk?”
I nod again. She winks at me and turns to exit the room. Less than two minutes later, she returns carrying a clear plastic cup with black measurement lines up one side. It’s nearly full of pellets of ice and cool, refreshing water.
I resist the urge to smack my lips as she lowers it toward my face. She guides the straw to my mouth and I clamp down on it like a life preserver. I drink over half the glass before I let her take the cup.
She smiles at me and I smile back. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“So, let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?”
“Willow Masters.”
“And do you know why you’re here, Willow?”
“I think I had a car accident. I remember seeing the lights and then hearing metal crunching, but nothing much beyond that.”
“Well, I’d say that’s plenty. Sometimes it’s better not to know too much detail.” She pats my arm
I force my sluggish eyelids open, blinking at the harsh light. It seems to penetrate my brain like a hot knife, causing a searing pain to slice through my head. I grit my teeth and drag in a breath of air around them. I note that my mouth is so dry that I doubt I could speak if I needed to.
But why? Why the pain? Why the dry mouth? Why the nagging sense that something is terribly wrong, only I can’t remember what it is?
Braving the pain, I crack my lids again, holding them open until my eyes can adjust. As it turns out, the light isn’t that bright after all. In fact, my surroundings seem to be a bit dark.
I stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling with its white squares of dropped ceiling and long rectangles of fluorescent lights. It looks very austere and functional. Clinical almost.
Clinical.
Hospital?
Bits and pieces of the last things I can remember come tumbling back like boulders in a rock slide, bringing with them the emotions attached to each.
Darting across the street.
Urgency.
Hearing Sage’s voice.
Panic.
Seeing the flash of headlights.
Fear.
Absorbing the crunch of metal.
Numbness.
I had a car accident. And I must be in the hospital.
I lie perfectly still as I run an internal diagnostic and make a self-assessment. I need to know what kind of damage was done.
The first thing I do is wiggle my fingers and toes. When they move effortlessly, I sigh in relief. That’s a good sign. At least I’m not paralyzed.
Gingerly, I straighten my arms, reaching for my upper thighs. That’s when I run into my first problem. Only my right arm will move. My left seems…tethered.
I turn my head enough that I can glance down at my left arm. It is bent at a ninety degree angle and strapped across my ribs. It’s completely immobilized and held in place by Velcro cuffs that wind around my forearm and upper arm, attaching them to a band that circles my torso. When I try to lift it, a dull pain radiates through my left shoulder. But at least there’s no cast. No cast means no break. I hope.
I continue feeling my way around my body, raising my head and glancing down a couple of times to make sure I’m not sporting any other apparatus. It seems I’m not. And I’m not missing any “parts” either, which is comforting.
Content that I’m all in one piece, I relax my aching head onto the pillow. Even with my eyes closed, I still know the instant the nurse comes into the room. Although she makes no sound in her rubber-soled shoes, her solid form seems to somehow change the acoustics of the room, dulling the muted beeps and blips coming from somewhere outside my door.
I turn my head to look at her. The fifty-ish, steely-haired nurse raises her eyebrows and gives me an upbeat Oh! of surprise. “You’re awake.”
I nod.
She approaches the bed and starts checking lines and moving my blankets. “Do you know where you are?”
“The hospital,” I croak.
Intelligent blue eyes meet mine. “Need a drink of water before we talk?”
I nod again. She winks at me and turns to exit the room. Less than two minutes later, she returns carrying a clear plastic cup with black measurement lines up one side. It’s nearly full of pellets of ice and cool, refreshing water.
I resist the urge to smack my lips as she lowers it toward my face. She guides the straw to my mouth and I clamp down on it like a life preserver. I drink over half the glass before I let her take the cup.
She smiles at me and I smile back. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“So, let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?”
“Willow Masters.”
“And do you know why you’re here, Willow?”
“I think I had a car accident. I remember seeing the lights and then hearing metal crunching, but nothing much beyond that.”
“Well, I’d say that’s plenty. Sometimes it’s better not to know too much detail.” She pats my arm
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