Cry For Me

Chapter 22

Why on earth is every part of mine aching, particularly my stomach? And why can’t I move? Why can’t my eyelids open? Those were questions swirling around Andrea’s subconscious as she laid on the hospital bed, not even aware what state she was in. There were voices all around her, but they were not clear, and she couldn’t force herself to decipher the words or distinguish them.

First, her fingers twitched, and she heard a gasp as someone came to hold her hand. “Andrea?” the person asked with a sob, and it was definitely a feminine voice. This time, she voluntarily squeezed the hand before the rest of a body came to. Slowly, she opened her eyes and was met with blurred vision.

“Finally, you’re awake,” her mother, Dolores, cried in joy. Andrea was in a state of confusion, not remembering how she had ended up there. And why was her stomach so darned painful? Reaching down, she was flooded with much relief when she felt her bump, meaning that it wasn’t the worst. Her baby was still alive, so that was good.

Next, her father came into her line of vision, face as frigid as ever but eyes softened tremendously. “You gave us quite the fright, Andrea. I’m glad that you’re now okay,” he muttered in his signature cooperate tone, but with a smidge of compassion and reprieve.

She tried to speak, but her throat was incredibly parched. From the foot of the bed, Ximena, who she hadn’t seen until then, moved over to pour some water in a glass from a pitcher. Walking over to Andrea, she helped her sit up and drink the water. She refused to look her in the eye, but Andrea saw her eyes were outlined with red circles. She had been crying, that was obvious.

“What happened to me?” Andrea said, sitting up straighter but the sharp pain that came to her abdomen had her wincing. “Why does my belly hurt? Is the baby okay?” 

A doctor walked into the room, middle aged male with square rimmed glasses. “The nurse notified me that the patient has finally woken up. How are you, dear?” he questioned her, friendly smile on his face and stood beside her next to her father.

“My sister is fine. What we would like to know is how the hell did this happen?” Salvador grumbled from the chair he was seated on, very far away from the bed. He was hunched over, voice groggy and his hair was disheveled like he’d run his hand through it multiple times.

The doctor cleared his throat and began to go through the medical report he had brought with him. “Well, it seems that she so happened to ingest something that didn’t agree with her, which resulted in a comatose state and if you hadn’t reached here in time, death. Now, the diagnosis alludes to it being an unidentified substance, that we cannot exactly pinpoint due to its quick break down in the body. However, the lab found out that its main target was your digestive tract, which would have harmed the fetus had we not pumped it out of your system,” he explained and Andrea held her mouth in shock. How had she ingested something so harmful?

“So, you’re saying that she was poisoned?” her father ground out, his hardened glare set on the doctor, who gulped audibly.

“It’s a possibility, or the food she ate wasn’t well prepared,” he trailed off, unsure of how to break the news as delicately as possible.

Dolores hugged her daughter. “Dios mio! Who would want to poison my sweet angel and the little miracle she’s carrying?” she exclaimed in disbelief. Salvador, clearly ticked off by what was going on, abruptly stood up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut on his way out.

“We will be keeping her under observation for the next twenty-four hours, after which she will be discharged and free to go home. I’ll be back routinely for more tests. Excuse me,” the doctor uttered once more before taking his leave.