RAISE YOUR HAND

Chapter 2

In daily living, there are different considerations for the definition of silence. Some people consider the absence of technological noise silence. Some consider whispering silence. Others, total absence of noise is silence as defined by the dictionary. But where there lives a heartbeat, can never exist true silence.

A heartbeat is a rhythmic sound. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. It's heard at the very door of the eardrum. That's why it's so loud. So clear. When all other noises are gone, such as television, music, animals, traffic, for example, the heartbeat is the loudest thing on the planet. It's so loud, it could wake a person. So it would seem.

That's what must have woken her from her slumber. It was the first thing she heard. Her own heartbeat. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Rhythmic, strong, steady. Then, the conscious inhalation of breath. A slight whistling noise dragging through the nostrils, disbursing into the lungs and exhaled on a sigh. Finally, the cold. But cold is silent. Silent until it causes teeth to chatter and limbs to twitch.

Trinity's arm jerked from the bone chill that coursed through her and tapped porcelain hard enough to cause her funny bone to zing. The rattle of the plastic blinds above her head caught her attention and registered with her brain the window was open. Cold air poured into the bathroom covering her like a blanket. The bathtub her bed.

He left her to freeze to death over the course of the night. In the fetal position, she flexed her feet to feel an inch worth of water swish under her body. The rest must have drained until her arm managed to form a stopper.

It was a wonder her heart was beating so amazingly strong and not frozen from the cold. Hell, it wasn't too late. Maybe pneumonia would settle in. Gingerly, Trinity uncoiled her body and struggled into a sitting position. She needed to get the window closed. She needed to get out of the blasted tub.

Hindsight was twenty twenty. She should have taken the good doctor up on his offer. She wouldn't be in this position if she had. Maybe, or maybe she already was in a good position. She was alive after all.

Summoning all of her strength, she hoisted herself up and managed to wrangle the window shut. Her fingers clung to the sash a moment before pushing away. She needed to assess her throbbing face. It felt raw and blistered. 

Closing her eyes and swallowing hard, she opened them to see her skin was in fact very red and blistered in a few areas. A slight tap to one blister caused it to pop open. A clear liquid trickled down her cheek. Trinity grimaced with a whimper, pressing her fingertips against the onion thin case the blister left behind.

There were five more blisters just the same, easily giving way under the lightest of touches. It was probably a bad idea to probe at them, but she had to. If David saw her like this, it would cause more problems.

Pulling open the cabinet drawer, she sifted through the junk and thanked the heavens when she found some antibiotic cream and a half empty tube of green goo normally used on sunburns. This would have to do. Perhaps later she could apply some cool packs. 

Cleaning up her mess on the counter along with the water on the floor from her dripping clothes, she realized David wasn't home. She could tell. It felt like mid-morning or early afternoon. Either way, she needed to get the house and dinner organized. It didn't matter her hand ached fierce, and her face burned like the sun kissed her far too hard. A few ibuprofen and ignorance would have to tie her over. There was work to be done. She had to go to the store as well.

She remembered she was going to make her homemade chicken soup today. Had she told him she was going to make that? Because she couldn't remember, she would have to. What would she need for it? One whole chicken, celery, carrots, onion, chicken broth, poultry seasoning, tortellini noodles. Also, an Italian bread with butter would be nice. Was there anything else?