nefelibata (n.) | ✔️

thirty-two.

Present. February 1st, 2019.

I feel like I've been asleep for days. My thoughts are so groggy, where am I? I can't open my eyes. It's scary. Are they open? I can't tell. My head feels like someone's been smashing a bowling ball on me for years and years. Everywhere hurts, some parts feel numb, but for the most part, everything hurts. Something is touching my hand, maybe a person? I squeeze to find out, but it hurts, so I stop. 

"Lena?" I recognize my father's voice as I try to squeeze his hand again for yes. I am successful because my dad starts cheering quietly and racing out, probably to get the doctor, I assume.

I hear many feet shuffling into my room. My mother's perfume fills my nose, and my father's heavy boots were hitting the floor. The third pair I can't quite figure out, I believe it's the doctor.

Please help me. I want to say, but nothing will come out — so much pain.

"Lena, dear? If you're awake and listening move both your pointer fingers up and down once." The older man says, and I oblige, doing as told.

I can hear my parents crying; I hope they didn't let Carson see me this way. He's going to think it was his fault and I can't let him believe that.

"Sweetie, you suffered numerous blows to almost every part of your body. Your spine is surprisingly intact, but you've seemed to have broken two ribs, so repairing them may take some patience. Your jaw is going to feel tight due to the neck brace we've given you, so talking is possible but may be difficult." I move my fingers to show I'm listening and he continues. "Your eyes are currently swollen shut, and since you've been asleep, it'll be hard to open your eyes for the next couple of days."

I nod my head and wince as the pain overwhelms me. "As for the head," The doctor continues, noticing my pain. "You've got a major concussion and a fractured shoulder. We're going to keep you here for a little longer than a week to make sure everything is healing and well. Understood?" I moved my fingers again, slowly this time.

Can't they give me something for this pain? God, it's unbearable.

Wait. The Gallery! What day is it? I'm not going to be able to make it. I wrote my speech and everything. My artwork. This is my shot. My one shot.

"Lena?" My mother says quietly. I point my finger in the direction of her voice. "You know I love you, right baby?"

I nodded my head, fighting the pain. I winced and felt a tear roll down my cheek.

"Can't she get something for the pain, doc? She looks to be in so much pain." My father said, practically reading my mind.

"Since the majority of her pain is in her head and then a little pain in other places, medication may not be as beneficial as you would think. But yes, I can give her something. She's not on any former medication, correct?"

My father must have nodded because the doctor made his way out of the room, hopefully, to fetch me some good painkillers.

"Sweetie," My mom said, her hand reaching for mine. "Carson is in the waiting room. Do you want to see him?"

I took in a sharp breath at his name. Carson. He can't see me this way. He just can't. I shook my head, and my mother patted my hand twice in understanding.

"Okay. Let me go tell him." I wanted to see him, I wanted to tell him that I fucked up and this was all Brooklyn's plan. To get me to break his heart and then hospitalize me. I bet she planned to kill me. Who brought me here?

I know the doctor said that it will hurt to talk, but I have to try, I've got to know.

I try my best to muster up some power to talk. I cough a bit, my throat screeching. "D-Dad?" I manage, quiet and faint. It hurts, but I need to know what happened.