HOSPITAL BEDS • Elounor •

3 | Ally

CHAPTER III

"Ally"

I spent the night awake. My parents tried to look after me but they were really tired. I was told to sleep too, but how could I? I had just lost my mobility... it was like if life had taken my essence my desire to live.

I did not care much about my health itself. My mind could not simply conceive the idea of me struck on a wheelchair for the rest of my life. I was a football player and I was about to become famous, a star. Obviously my plans were frustrated because of a sad mistake. It had been my mistake and I was just paying the price. A very high one.

That night was the longest ever, or at least it seemed to be. I never stopped crying. After my parents fell in the chairs defeated by their tiredness, my mind exploded. The anger left my body and conscious and the sadness invaded me. In the dark room, I heard the echo of my sobs. I felt as a child again.

My hands ached for hitting my legs, my knees and my feet. Of course it was in vain; violence made me feel nothing. And to make it worst, doctors had told me they were still trying to figure out my situation. If I would recover my legs as they were or not, was a mystery.

When the sun appeared in the sky, my parents explained to me they would go home to bring me some clothes and things I'd need. So I was left alone the entire morning. My arm started to ache greatly so a nurse came to give me some sedates. I felt groggy for a while and finally managed to sleep.

In my dreams, the only thing that was there was the mixed memory of me playing football with my car in front of a red light. Nothing I wanted to go over; still, my mind played it as a movie... again, and again, and again...

At lunchtime, the doctor brought me some food and checked my arm. It was as the day before, still in a cast. I ate almost nothing. I had no energy and no reason to get better...

"Do you need company?" Dr. Frederickson asked me looking at my lost gaze.

"No," I whispered. I felt embarrassed to be like this, depending on someone else to move my body.

"Hum, listen Louis, I know this is killing you but you need to get better. I am here to help you, your parents are doing all they can to help you... and you should do your best too."

I did not answer. I think silence was more polite than cursing him. How could he know what I was going through?

"Okay. You don't want to talk, I get it. Maybe you need the right person to open up with."

In that moment, I turned my head to my left. For the first time in days I noticed the empty bed besides mine. It was not a private room of course, but I'd been alone since I arrived.

When the moon was setting, I asked my parents to go home and to leave me. My sisters were alone with my aunts and uncles looking after them.

"Mom, you can go, really. The twins must need you. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Your dad can stay if you need to-"

"I don't. I will simply sleep. The only things I can do are eating or go to the..." I stopped talking. Reality hit me hard: I could go nowhere. I could not even stand up. I lowered my head and my hands became fists.

"Son," my father said, "it's okay. Cry, shout, do whatever you need to feel better."

Another silence. I did not want to face my situation, and not talking about it was the only way I found to deny it.

So after a lot of hesitation, my parents finally left the hospital. Loneliness was becoming my best friend. My best ally.

The rest of the evening was quiet. My arm did not ache and the dark room was even relaxing: just me and the soft moonlight entering through the window. Calm was all I needed; unfortunately, it did not last much.

In a rush, a couple of doctors entered the room. Apparently they thought I was sleeping because I was stiff in my own bed. Of course I was, I could not move. Without turning the lights on in order not to wake me up, they pushed a stretcher with a person lying on it. Two doctors lifted the body and placed it in the bed. In a low voice they checked the patient status. It seemed to be in critical conditions. After a few minutes, the doctors left my room. Well, mine and of the other person there.

Slowly, I checked the other patient. Under a soft light, I realized that it was a girl. She was covered with a blanket and she was stiff, exactly as me. Her face was pale, not well, yet it highlighted. Her curly hair rested on her sides and I could hear her heavy breathing. She looked as a statue, white and lifeless. I knew she was fainted because her chest aroused when breathing, otherwise, I would have sworn she was dead. Definitely she was not okay. And I confirmed that when I noticed all the machines around her bed. Her wrists veins were connected through needles to those machines, making her look so fragile.

When I noticed, I had been looking at her for long minutes that seemed hours. Her body, her face and her breathing made me forget about my own pain. Her condition made me realized I was not in the worst position.

I smiled to that girl, that ill girl barely breathing next to me; and I fell asleep feeling... worried? Maybe, since loneliness was not there for me anymore, now I had a new ally.

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