Picking Up The Pieces

1. Coming home

Elias's POV

"Oh sweetie..." I hear a woman's voice seep into my consciousness. Her quiet sobs and sniffles fill the silence. I try to open my eyes, but a bright light forces me to shut them again.

"Did you see that, Mike? His eyes moved. I saw it!"

I start to recognize the voice. That's my mother. What is she doing here?

"He didn't move, Susan. You probably just imagined it." This time a man speaks. His voice is soft and deep and belongs to my father.

"No, no, I saw his eyelids flutter," my mom insists.

"Susan, stop it! He isn't waking up! Now get your purse. We're going home."

After a few moments of silence, I hear the scratching sound of a chair being pushed back and the jingle of my father's keys, followed by the sound of a door opening.

No don't leave me. Please, I don't want to be alone.

I open my mouth to protest but all that comes out are raspy sounds. It seems to be enough though because I hear my mom rush to my side again.

"Nurse! Doctor! Come quick! I think he's waking up!" my dad roars while my mom squeezes my hand.

"It'll be fine, baby. I'm here," she whispers.

I push myself to finally open my eyes and blink until everything comes into sight. I'm in a hospital room and my mom is standing over me, stroking my hair while my dad's calling for a doctor in the hallway.

"Mom," I croak.

"Yes, baby?" A tear rolls down her face.

"Wh-what happened?"

She is about to speak when a smiling man, seeming to be in his mid-thirties, enters the room and walks toward my bed. He's wearing a standard military combat uniform and has a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

"Sergeant Elias Sanders, my name is Dr. Gilbert."

I nod.

"Judging by the look on your face, you have no clue what's going on. Am I right?"

"I-" I clear my dry throat. "Y-yes."

"Alright," says Dr. Gilbert, the smile he had upon entering the room fades from his face. "What is the last thing you remember?"

I close my eyes, thinking and when I open them again, I tell the doctor about how I remember Michael coming to rescue me.

"So, you don't remember anything after that?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Well, you lost a lot of blood. You blacked out while your platoon was rushing you back to base. The doctors there couldn't perform the necessary surgery, so they stabilized you and got you on the next ambulance plane back home."

"So, I'm back in California?" I ask.

"Yes. You're in Courtdale Military Medical Center."

I guess that explains why my parents are here. I attempt to sit up but a sudden pain in my side makes me fall back down.

"Easy there," warns Dr. Gilbert. "You don't want to put any more strain your ribs. They're cracked and if you put too much pressure on them, they could break all the way and potentially even puncture your lungs."

I nod understandingly and let my head fall back onto the pillow. "When can I go home?"

Dr. Gilbert chuckles a little as he flips through my chart. "If everything goes well, you'll be out of here in less than four weeks. We just have to keep you here a bit longer for further monitoring and checkups."