The news hits me like a ton of bricks. Thoughts fly through my mind. I missed the rescheduled graduation, I missed my head start program for school, I missed my dad's birthday, I missed Molly's funeral. Her real one. My heart drops and the ever constant hurricane of anxiety that thrives in my stomach intensifies. I begin to sweat again and my doctor reaches her hand out.
"I know this is difficult to understand. I'm here if you have any questions."
I blink and go to open my mouth, but my thoughts leave my body and I find myself sitting there, my mouth a gaping hole to nothing. I lift my hands and run fingers through my hair. I flinch the second my fingers brush it. It's course, rough, it doesn't feel like my hair at all.
I look down at it, noticing the dryness of my hands, the length of my fingernails and suddenly my body no longer belongs to me. It feels different, like I'm stuck in someone else's reality, like I've been violently thrown into another life.
I look to my doctor, she's waiting for me to say something, but I literally cannot think of what I want to know most. Why? Since when? How? What happened? My thoughts slice through one another, each one demanding more attention than the last.
She clears her throat, it snaps me out of the tornado of my mind. My eyes flutter as I try to focus and I feel my bottom lip quiver. I fight back tears, but they push their way over my lower eyelashes. I use the sleeve of the holey sweater I'm wearing to wipe it away. Instantly, my cheeks heat up. My doctor looks away for what seems to be respect. I thank her in my mind, no one has ever taken that kind of consideration for me into account. I cry for a short while, my stifled sobs filling the room around us. I look up to the window and can see my parents watching intently, reading to pounce past the doctor at the door at a moments' notice to get through to me.
I give them a small smile and return my gaze to my doctor. I meet her eyes and I suddenly feel a little more confident and able to ask her about my condition.
"I'll go first," she says before I can get a word out.
I slouch. I hadn't realized I had straightened my back.
"First of all my name is Mel," she laughs. "Short for Melissa, but only my dad calls me that when he's complaining that I don't visit home enough."
I smile, feeling more and more comfortable by the minute. She taps her chin with her finger.
"I just finished up my residency and have been working here for a little over a year now and I specialize in helping our coma patients return to their day to day life."
I feel a cold wash over me when she says that word again. I feel my body cave in on itself. The idea of me being out of existence for three months makes my skin crawl.
"Don't worry that's normal," she explains. "It's always weird to hear, but I can help you understand what happened."
I push myself up in my bed, trying to pretend I'm not scared. I arch my back and put my hands in my lap. I raise my head, signalling I'm ready to listen.
"Take it easy," Mel says as she pushes the button behind my bed to raise it to a more sitting position. I open my mouth to explain I have it, but my muscles adjust to being upright and I'm appalled by how sore they are.
Mel tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her hair looks so soft, nothing like my cringey, old lady hair. "You were brought in here after a very traumatic event as you just said. You fell, when the cops arrived to the scene. And you hit your head. And when you did, your body freaked out and shut down. Your heart stopped for a moment, but we were able to bring you back to a conscious state."
I process what she's telling me. I died. Just like Jake's mom. Just like Molly. All those times I told my therapist it should've been me, not Molly. The moment Jake pushed me away like I was poison. For a moment, I got what I wanted. What I deserved.
"Should I continue?"
I nod. It's all I can do.
"You were okay for a few minutes and then you just gave out. Like your body was tired of existing. Failures erupted everywhere, your temperature spiked, so we put you to sleep and gave you time to heal. And now.... well... now you're awake."
I blink again.
"I know it can be a lot to take in," Mel whispers. She starts to stand up, her voice is so calming, "I can give you a minu-"
Panic engulfs me.
"No," I croak. I reach out, my reflexes acting for me and grab her wrist. She winces and I feel a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, I-"
The panic subsides.
"It's okay, Scarlett," she sits down, closer to me this time. "I can stay if it'll make you feel better."
The ripples of panic begin to fade. I feel more and more normal every moment.
I give a half smile. "Thank you."
She returns it and looks down at my hand. I realize I'm still gripping her wrist so hard my nails are probably going to leave marks.
"Shit, sorry I-" I begin to freak.
"It's okay," Mel assures me, her voice is so soft, it calms me instantly.
"Okay, thanks, yeah."
There's a brief pause.
"I actually do have a question though," I start. "Are dreams normal in comas?"
She scrunches up her nose and I fear something is wrong with me. "It's hard to say. Some say they remember weird glimpses of reality, some turn those glimpses into something they can see in their minds. What did you dream about?"
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I saw all the people I've known who have died die."
She turns her head. "How many is that?"
"Two, but," I pause, not wanting to sound crazy and stupid.
"But what?" She's curious.
But a light goes off in my head. A thought that came to me on the edge of consciousness. A thought that could be solidified by what I'm going to say next.
"Did they charge me? For Jake's mom's death?"
I notice a cop walk by. He pauses by my door. Mel shakes her head, he continues on. I raise an eyebrow at her and push away. She notices.
"No Scarlett, luckily your parents provided security camera footage of you in your room at the time of death. Your name was cleared."
I feel a wave of relief wash over me. I find that most of my panic was rooted in the fact that I could've been sent to jail for the murder of someone that I would never harm. I nod my head and swallow hard, relieved to hear that I was freed from this connection.
"What was it you were going to say?" Mel says, leaning towards me.
"I feel like people are at risk around me. Like everyone I know will die because of me. I feel like," I pause, "Like I'm haunted by death."
Mel purses her lips and stares at me. I see sadness sprinkled in her eyes. Is she pitying me?
"Forget it," I say.
She apologizes.
I nod my head but don't meet her eyes. "Can I have another glass of water? Then, I'd like to take a nap."
"As you wish," she replies and walks out of the room. I make eye contact with my mom through the window. She signals to the door and I nod. I need them right now. The on guard doctor steps aside and allows her entry. My mom looks back to make sure my dad is following her, but he's not. He's watching Mel carefully. She pulls on his jacket sleeve and he turns to her. They share a smile and enter the room. I smile too.
