And the sun will rise again

Chapter 2

I felt a gentle touch on my hand, jolting me from my fragmented thoughts.

"Hey, dear," a voice whispered.

"Mom, are you back?" I asked, exerting immense effort to open my eyes slightly.

"It's me, Monica," the voice replied.

Anxiety surged through me. I struggled to remember who Monica was. My mother had mentioned her before I drifted off to sleep.

"My dear Josephine," Monica sobbed, "It's me, Monica, your best friend. Doctor Stevenson mentioned that you might have some memory gaps."

"I'm sorry. I must be experiencing them," I admitted, my eyes drooping.

"I just want to tell you how much I love and miss you," Monica continued. "You know, Philip told me he'll find that bastard who did this to you and beat the crap out of him, even if it means going to jail himself. His heart shattered when he saw what happened to you. Same as mine."

Monica's words threatened to break me further, but at least Philip was alive.

"Is Philip okay?" I struggled to speak, my brain functioning chaotically.

Who was this girl claiming to be my best friend? Did I even have one? My memories were fleeting, but I held onto fragments of my mother, Philip, my sister, and my little niece, Lily. That was enough to bear for now.

"Philip is in the hospital, but he'll be alright. I just wanted a moment with you, to support you as much as I can," Monica explained.

Support. How could she possibly support me? Did she possess a magic wand? Could she turn back time? I didn't need pity or false gestures of comfort. I longed to be left alone, to grapple with the depths of my anguish in solitude. Yet, I couldn't muster the energy to argue. I silently pleaded for everyone to depart. My soul wept, but my eyes remained dry. This was my personal hell. But I vowed to reclaim myself, or rather, an upgraded version of myself. Summoning all the strength I could muster, I uttered the words:

"Please leave. I need some time alone."

"Sure, love. I understand. I'm leaving. I hope you'll recover soon," Monica acquiesced, departing from the room.

Thank goodness she left. I didn't know if I would ever open my eyes fully, let alone tolerate her presence and her words.

Once Monica was gone, a disconcerting thought invaded my mind. Had I been sexually assaulted? Every inch of my body was in agony, and I couldn't discern the source of the pain. I tried to press the nurse call button, desperately seeking answers. Within minutes, a young, blonde nurse entered the room, her voice oozing warmth and compassion.

"Is everything alright, Miss Parker?" she inquired.

"Tell me the truth. Was there any sign of sexual assault?" I trembled, terrified of the answer I couldn't bear.

"Miss Parker, I'm unable to discuss such matters with you. Only Dr. Stevenson can provide that information," she hesitated before continuing, "But alright, Miss Parker. I'll tell you. Please promise not to share this with anyone. There were no signs of sexual assault."

A flicker of relief washed over me upon hearing her response.

"I won't tell," I assured her, experiencing a small measure of solace.

She left the room, offering a sympathetic smile. Emotions surged within me once again, but the physical toll prevented tears from falling. It was a torment to feel so deeply without release. I hoped that one day I would rise from this bed, liberated from the clutches of suffering