Looking For Hope (Sequel of TB)

A Merry Christmas?

Nickii's POV

It's been a month since my mother has been in a coma, and i'm finally 21. I walked into the dark room that had barely any light as I saw Medusa and Marie sitting next to my mother's unconscious body as she lay with her long growing hair dangling over the black couch, her left arm rested on her stomach as she wore a hospital gown with a needle through her arm and alot of other mechanisms.

"Any movement?" I asked as I sat down next to them while they shook their heads. They both stood up abruptly. "We haven't hunted for a while, so before we drink that pouch that is saving your mother, we are going to go eat." They quietly closed the door, barely making a sound.

I looked back at my mother and squeezed her hand as I said, "Happy Christmas Eve, mom." as I got up and walked out, taking my hands and rubbing away the stray tears that come across my cheeks.

Martha's POV

*2 days earlier*

"Coma?!....No......why.......revenge?.....Caesar!.." I heard bits and parts of people talking outside the room I was in, in my coma. Everyday I tried my hardest to even move a finger, but it failed. My chest seared in pain as I still replayed the memory of the bullet entering my eternal wound.

"Angel... I heard that it is good to talk to people in coma's. I just want to say, if you can hear me, that Nickii is now 15 and becoming more smart then us." He chuckled quietly, as I felt my hand being squeezed, as I tried to squeeze back but failed.

I always remembered this one scene from Hamlet as I replayed memories of me and Medusa fighting. 'To be or not to be, that is the question. To die, to sleep. To sleep; perchance to dream, Ay there's the rub. A dread of something that dies, puzzles thine will. Thus making thy mad.' As if reading my mind, Caesar started saying something.

"I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round. Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier:

Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn."

I remembered that paragraph from the play 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' as the player Puck said it. 'If I was't in this coma, I'd be crying from thine words.' I tried to tell him that, and I think her got it when he gasped and squeezed my hand. "Thine words make thee cry? Nay, then dos't not cry, but thy talk with thine grace for speech." He let go of my hand as he closed the door while I tried to move again but only managed to flicker my eyes.

Blast thy coma, thine be inclined to it, but has't not like to be. If I want to get out of this blasted coma, i'll have to try harder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I felt my eyes flicker as I tried to slightly move my pinkie just by a little. I succeeded as I then tried my thumb, then ring finger, then middle, then index. I then moved my whole hand just by a twitch as I forced myself to open my eyes.

They opened halfway as the light burned my pupils, making them dilate in fear, but then noticed no lights were on, so it must've been just a little lighter then my subconscious, since i've been stuck in it for a month. I blinked a few times as my vision was blurry, so once I opened my eyes all the way I tried to move both of my arms and then tried sitting up.

It hurt so bad I felt like giving up, but I refused. After what my daughter said yesterday that it was Christmas Eve, I defiantly was not going to skip this first Christmas with a child and a husband. My head lolled back as I strained to use my neck while I was still getting the hang of my arms back in motion.