All This Time by Marie Wathen

Author:Marie Wathen [Wathen, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marie Wathen
Published: 2014-01-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty -Eight

January

“If you can hear me hold up two fingers,” a voice from far away echoes this statement so many times that I can’t stand hearing anymore and try to yell at it to shut the fuck up, but my yell sounds like a moan to me.

“Good, you can hear me,” the voice says again and after a few seconds I manage to grunt.

“I need you to come back,” another voice whispers.

“Can you open your eyes?” I understand the question, but for some reason I can’t make my body do anything. What happened to me?

“It’s okay,” the voice sighs. “At least I know you’re in there.”

“I’m going to give you something for the pain.” I think it’s one of the voices from earlier asking, but I don’t know.

“I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

“Miss?” a sweet voice singsongs, “You have visitors here to see you.”

“Sam?” I know that voice, is it my brother? “God, I’m so sorry.”

“I know you don’t like this part, but I need to take you down for another CT Scan.”

Darkness invades every thought. Sometimes in the moments when I hear the voices I can feel a slight touch against my hand or my face. I understand that I must be in the hospital, but I don’t understand why. Sleep will help. I’ll just rest until my body is better.

“You have to wake up,” a deep voice rumbles. “I want you to come back for me.” I know that voice and I need him.

I literally have to force my eyes to obey when I command them to open. It takes several tries, but finally I am successful. The light piercing through my tiny slits is excruciatingly painful to my head. I lift my hand to block the light, but it doesn’t respond. I shift my gaze down and see that my left hand is lying beside me covered with a cast, but the damn thing isn’t moving. I blink a few times and finally my lids don’t feel so heavy anymore.

“Well good morning,” a pretty young nurse says, hovering over my face. “It’s about time you woke up.” I’ve been dreaming? She runs a light across both of my pupils and I groan at the relenting pain the brightness inflicts. “I’m sorry sugar. I just need to check you over real quick.” Her southern accent is thick so I know I’m still in the south. I just can’t be sure if I’m in Georgia or if my grandparent’s flew me home.

“Good morning Ms. Johnson. I’m Dr. Vincent,” a tall middle-aged man informs me. “I’m glad to see you awake. You’ve suffered a minor concussion and have several fractured and bruised bones. We had to do surgery on your left arm due to the severity of the injury. Except for that, your other injuries should mend over time.” Dr. Vincent smiles down at me while checking the bandage on my head. “This may sting a little. Your hair is stuck to the tape. Hold still just a moment.

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