Aaliyah woke with a jolt to the sound of a phone buzzing. Her first thought was to let it ring. However, it stopped for a few seconds and proceeded to buzz one more time. Jason moved groggily in bed next to her, but she was pretty sure it was his phone, not hers.
"Baby, your phone," she mumbled tiredly.
"Let it ring," he muttered sleepily, his eyes still closed as he wrapped his arm around her and nuzzled her neck.
The phone buzzed once more.
She let out a small groan and wriggled out of his grasp. She grabbed her silk robe off the hook on the wall and shrugged into it as she switched on the light and staggered across the hall to the living room, where the phone was squalling like a baby. She picked it up to shut it up.
"Hello," she said weakly.
"Aaliyah." It was Sylvia, and it sounded like she had been crying. "Aaliyah, where's Jason?"
"He's asleep," she was more alert now. "What's wrong?"
"It's Samantha," she sniffled. "She was in an accident. She's here at the hospital. They are working on her now."
"What?!"
Jason appeared behind her.
"What's going on?" he asked, rubbing his face tiredly.
"It's Samantha," she answered, turning her tear-filled eyes to him. "She's been hurt."
***
Aaliyah stared at the flames, mesmerized. They danced and weaved bright blazing orange with tips of cobalt blue in the fireplace in the hospital waiting room. And despite the heat pumping out of the fire, she was cold. Bone-chillingly cold.
She was aware of hushed voices, many hushed voices. But they weaved in and out only in the background, nothing but a distant buzz. She didn't hear the words. All she could hear, all she could focus on, was the soft hiss of the gas from the fire.
The flames shimmied and flickered, holding her captive, keeping her numb. She focused solely on their flaring, scorching beauty. They were hypnotizing.
She wrapped her arms around herself, and the world fell away from her and reality bled into her consciousness. The creeping emptiness inside expanded some more. Samantha was terribly hurt.
Sylvia sat across from her on the larger-than-large U-shaped couch, holding hands with Matthew. They gaze at her, pain and anxiety etched on their lovely faces. Sylvia looked older—a mother worried for her daughter. She blinked dispassionately at them. She couldn't offer a reassuring smile, a tear even—there was nothing, just blankness and the growing emptiness. She gazed at Jason and Lucas, who stood in the corner of the room, all serious faces, talking quietly. Discussing something in soft subdued voices.
Jeffrey was talking to the authorities who were drip-feeding them information. Evidently, Samantha was a victim of a hit and run. Unfortunately, the diner had no cameras posted outside and authorities were unable to get a lead on who had hit her.
She closed her eyes in silent prayer, rocking gently. Please let Samantha be okay. Please let Samantha be okay. She repeated it over and over in her head—her mantra, her lifeline, something concrete to cling to in her desperation. She refused to think the worst. No, don't go there. There was hope.
Jeffrey was suddenly at her side, or had he been there a while? She had no idea.
"Samantha's strong. She'll pull through," he said quietly.
She nodded and clutched Jeffrey's hand. She couldn't speak—she knew she would dissolve if she did, but the warmth and gentle squeeze of his hand offered her no solace.
YOU ARE READING
SECOND CHANCES (ORIGINAL WORK)
Romance[COMPLETED] When Angeline married Nathan Snyder, it was supposed to give her the perfect life. Her dream was shattered the first time her husband laid a hand on her, showing her that the life she'd married into was going to be anything but perfect...
