Behind every mean girl...there's a tragedy

Persona Non Grata

Blinding lights are shining on me. I can feel them burning through my eyelids. An incessant beeping next to me makes me want to claw my ears off. I try to open my eyes but my eyelashes feel like bags of rocks. None of my extremities are cooperating with my brain. I'm trying so hard to move but nothing happens.

Am I dead? Is that where the lights are coming from? Am I in heaven? I highly doubt that. After everything that I've done, my soul is a more suited guest for hell.

I can't believe that's how I died. After years of cutting and suicidal urges, my life ends by the hand of a stupid truck driver. Well, it could have been worse. I could have spent days with extreme physical pain before going on the other side.

I hear the soft swoosh of a door opening, then the tapping of someone's heels on the tile floors.

Huh! Maybe this is in fact hell. I hardly think that God would force his angels to wear uncomfortable high heels.

A warm hand touches my forehead, then my wrist. Everywhere she touches my icy skin holds on to the warmth even after the angel's hand is gone.

The door reopens and a strange voice says, "How is she?"

"Her vitals are strong. She should be able to wake up anytime now."

"She's a lucky one," continues the other voice as she approaches me. "I don't know many people who survive an accident like that without any life-threatening injuries."

Wait – survive? I'm alive? Seriously, I'm alive. I thought if anyone's life would be cut short, it would be mine. Apparently, I was wrong.

"Try telling her mother that. The woman was in hysteric. Four nurses had to hurl her off the girl so they could transport her into surgery. But the odd thing was that neither the father nor her husband tried to calm her down. They both stood, the father in tears but the step-dad, him, he gave me the chills. He had an expressionless face and a phone stuck to his ears as if he couldn't care less about what was happening."

"I'm sure he cares a whole lot. Some men are simply not accustomed to showing their emotions publicly."

I snort. Emotions! Like Steven has any of those.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The noise, it came from her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I heard a noise coming from her." She places her warm hands on my skin once more, "Rachel! Rachel, can you hear us?"

I attempt to lift my eyelids but they're too heavy. I move on to my fingers. Still no responses.

"It was probably nothing. I don't think she's ready to wake up, yet. Her vitals might be good but her body still needs more time to completely recover from such a shock."

"I think you might be right." Then I hear their heels clicking away from me.

I assemble all of my energy to let one word slip between my chapped lips. "W-wa-ter," I croak.

My voice comes out as barely a whisper. I hope they heard me because I don't think I have much energy left to speak louder.

When I hear the door opening, I almost cried. I'm stuck in a hospital room by myself with my throat as dry as the Sahara desert.

"Rachel?" One of them says.

I heave a sigh of relief. They have heard me. Thank God, I won't have to waste away in this room with only the sound of a heart monitor.