Page 79 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

The room is dim, but I still squint at the light, then stare up at a tiled ceiling with confusion. If I could turn my head, I would, but I can’t. It feels braced, held tight. I can’t tell if the brace is real or just a figment of my imagination.

“You’re okay, Emma.God, he’s going to be so happy,” the voice says, sounding relieved. The voice’s warm hand embracesmine, giving me a firm squeeze that I realize I’m unable to return.

And then her face comes into view. She’s pretty, much like her brother.

“Brit?” I rasp out, feeling a level of dehydration that I didn’t know allowed for life to continue existing.

“Yeah, Em. We’re so happy you’re awake. He’s on his way, I promise. He’ll be so mad he missed this.” Alex isn’t here?Where is here?

“Where are we?” My voice sounds brittle, maybe even muffled, and a slight edge of panic creeps up at my seeming inability to move.

“The community hospital. You’ve been…asleep. I’m going to call the nurse, okay?”No!I muster everything I can and squeeze her hand, not wanting her to leave. Brit’s eyes widen slightly, but eventually she understands.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper softly.

She nods and begins stroking my hand.

I feel my breath quicken, and then the beeping grows louder and more frequent.

“I-I don’t understand,” I whisper to Brit, confusion and fear radiating off my words. Britain’s eyes fill with tears.

“You don’t have to worry, I promise. Everything will be okay. Let’s just try to relax, okay?” She tightens her grip on my hand, then brings her fingers up to my forehead, stroking gently, nearly lulling me back to sleep.

“Em?” The tears come involuntarily at the sound of his voice. I open my eyes to find Brit gone, replaced by Alex. And a woman wearing scrubs.

“Hi,” I manage to eke out.

His eyes seem sullen and tired. His gaze filled with…guilt? An immense sadness and weight seem to bore down on him. I don’t like it.

I can’t see, but I can hear other people in the room. Another man, maybe older, is talking about “TBI,” and occasionally, another man replies or asks a quiet question. The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it.

Alex doesn’t move away. He hovers over me, a hand in mine, the other wrapped around my upper arm like he’s holding on for dear life.

“I’m sorry,” Alex eventually manages to say in a tight voice that cracks at the end. My eyelids fall closed at the confusing words.

“Sorry for what?” I ask in between what feels like long blinks. Maybe even cat naps.

“Everything,” is eventually whispered back.

“That seems unnecessary.” I almost try to laugh, but the pain in my ribs halts me, and I wince instead.

“She still needs to rest. We need to wait for her to regain full consciousness before proceeding.” The man’s voice sounds a mile away and grows further still with every slow inhale and exhale.

I awake, seated on the bed in an inclined position. My eyelids flutter, feeling less heavy than the last time I’d done this. I’m still tired. Bone tired. But somehow it’s a little better than the time before.

A gentle tug on my hair pulls at my scalp, and I tense as the soreness in my neck makes itself known.

“Ouch,” I whisper.

“Em?” The brush sliding through my hair stops.

“Yes?” I can’t turn my head to look, but this time, when I command my hand up to rub the sleep out of my eyes, my limbslisten, and tingly fingers rub against my eyelids. It feels out of body in a way. Like I’m me, but this hand is not mine.

Looking at the backs of my hands, it’s obvious they belong to me, but they seem lifeless. Slight. My skin has lost its color, but I don’t understand if the fluorescent lights are playing tricks on me or if I’ve somehow changed.

“What’s wrong with me?” My hands flop down beside me in defeat, the weight of gravity greater than the strength I possess.

“Nothing, nothing at all. You’re going to be fine.” He brings his face into view, and I smile, but he doesn’t return it.