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Hospital Stays

  A steady beep filled your ears as LED lights flooded through the lids of your eyes. You squinted as you willed yourself out of your slumber, inhaling a sharp breath. You blinked steadily as your eyes took in the halogen lighting in your environment.

  The room was overly bright, white, and light blue on nearly every surface. You turn your head to the right and see Sherriff McKay sitting next to you with his head in his hands. You tried to speak out his name but all that came out was a croak. It was enough to catch his attention though, as he tilted his head up to you with a signature crooked smile. You follow suit and give a soft smile, in turn, reaching up to brush hair out of your face. As you did that you finally noticed the I.V. attached to your arm, drawing your attention to the rest of the room. Another man was sitting next to the Sheriff, staring at a notepad that you assumed contained important information. 

  "Y/n, you're awake! Thank God." He stood up, sliding his hands off his knees and reaching out towards you as he came closer. His brown uniform was still neat, but his graying hair was slightly disheveled on the side as if he had been pulling on it. The exhaustion in his eyes was evident and you couldn't blame him; nobody likes when their granddaughter is in the hospital. The concern in his eyes was genuine as he hugged you tightly. A grimace grew on your face as you noticed the pain in your back for the first time without adrenaline. As your grandpa stepped away he saw the pain on your face and answered your silent question.

  "No broken bones. But a helluva nasty bruise if I do say so myself. You got a couple of scrapes and bruises elsewhere but nothing that'll leave any lasting marks. The only thing that might scar is that cut on your neck. An inch deeper and it would have severed your vocal cords and larynx." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, shooting another concerned look in your direction. 

  "I hate to interrupt sir, but we do have another purpose." Your gaze flicked to the man who had been silently reading his notes and immediately grew concerned. You knew this man. He was the one who interrogated all suspects in murder cases. For him to be here, you were able to conclude what other business they were here for. Your grandfather cleared his throat at the sudden intrusion and sighed.

  "Y/n, this is Peter Macher, our famous lie detector. He wishes to speak to you about what happened yesterday-"

  You jump as your grandfather speaks, cutting him off midsentence. "Yesterday? What do you mean? How long was I out?"

  Your voice rose to a shriek as you questioned your grandfather, bolting upright in your bed. This sudden action elicited a groan from you as your hand raised to your neck. The outburst had drawn pain towards the slash on your neck, pulling on the stitches you didn't realize you had.

  "Today is Friday, you were attacked at 5:53 on Thursday morning; yesterday." Your grandfather answered you, using the calm voice that he reserved for when you were upset. He smiled at you as he took your hand, continuing his thoughts with the same tone. "You don't have to do this right now, it can wait until you feel better. Interrogation can wait."

  "No, it's fine gramps. Really." You turn to face the detective standing behind your grandfather, giving him a gentle nod. His brown hair was combed back neatly, and if it weren't for the wrinkles around his eyes you wouldn't have guessed older than thirty. His hazel eyes had a sincerity in them that told you he didn't want to ask you any questions, which you return with a thanking look in your eyes. 

  "This won't take very long, I only have a couple of questions for you to answer, then I would like a detailed account of the event." His tone was clean and even, sympathy laced behind the words as if his tongue couldn't control them. You nod at him to tell him you're ready, to which he presses record on his voice recorder.