Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 12

Voices echo. Male? Mature. I'm floating? No. Pain. Yes! Yes, pain. I'm moving. Sleep. I need sleep. Eyes open. Light? It's gone. No light. There's blue. And red. Flashing. Light. Floating? Yes.

A voice, "Everything's going to be alright, miss." Man? Yes, man.

Touch. Cold. I'm cold. Hands. Firm. Pain. Eyes closed. Bumpy. Moving. Siren? Slam. Thud. Moving. Faster? Yes. Scared! Dizzy. I'm dizzy. Head hurting. Touching. Hands touching. Cold.

More voices, "Heart rate is dropping. We're losing her!" Woman? Aurora? "Charge at 100. Clear!" Tingly. Pain.

"Nothing." Man.

"Charge at 200. Clear!" Woman. More tingly. "She's back!"

Can't think. Mind foggy. Pain . . .

* * *

My eyes flutter open and it takes a long moment for my vision to sharpen. I feel stiff. I try turning my head, but quickly discover that doesn't work. It feels like someone has their hand wrapped around my neck, preventing me from moving. Since I can't move my head, I instead try to move my eyes. I'm glad to see that those still function correctly.

After a quick scan of the area, I realize that I'm in some sort of room, a small room. The walls are white and the floor is this gray speckled color. There are two rows of cabinets next to me with a stainless-steel sink built into the countertop. Pieces of paper are taped to the cabinet doors and have notes written on them. The ink is a deep blue, black maybe, but the handwriting is sloppy; I can't read what any of them say. A single window is at the end of the room near the corner. No light is coming in from outside. It must be nighttime.

What happened to me? Where am I? Where's Aurora?

I shift my eyes to the other side of the room; my vision falls upon a familiar face—mother! Her eyes are shut, head resting against her chest. Father is sitting next to her. His fingers loosely grip mother's hand. His eyes are closed, too. They look uncomfortable sitting in those chairs. They're both wearing different clothes than they were at the cookout. Father's square chin is dark from a steady growth of stubble, which I find strange; he's never kept that much of beard before. Mother's hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she isn't wearing any makeup. Her face is pale, almost a sickly green, like she's been on edge about something, and her brow is in a permanent state of depression.

I try to speak, but it sounds more like a drunkard mumbling. I try again—the same result occurs. I'm suddenly hit with an excruciating pain in my head. It sends shock waves of pain from my brain down to my fingertips. I can't help but to jump just a little with each painful wave, my breathing choppy as I gasp for breath. I'm exhausted.

Movement shifts in my peripheral. Father lifts his head, rubbing his forehead as he wakes. His eyes flutter open a tiny bit as he turns to me, then they burst open fully. "McKenize! You're awake. Thank you, God!" He shakes mother's shoulder excitedly. She stirs, then has the same reaction as him. They rush to my side. That's when I realize something else—I'm lying down in a bed.

Mother rests a hand on top of mine. "Oh, sweetheart, you're okay. I'm so glad you're okay." She keeps repeating those words, stroking the side of my face each time she says it. What's got them so passionate?

There's an annoying beeping sound coming from behind me. It's rhythmical, like it's monitoring something, beeping at set intervals every second or so. I attempt to move my head again. I do so, not much, but I do so. It hurts, so I stop, but not before seeing a computer screen with a bunch of squiggly lines and numbers being displayed.

Is that a heart rate monitor? But that doesn't make—no, that makes perfect sense!

I feel my heartbeat quicken as if it's trying to escape my body. The beeping becomes more frequent.