Held [Completed]

Two.

Two. 

My eyelids flutter before slowly opening to a blinding light. I have to squint to shield them from the radiating light seeping into the room. Wait, light? Is that sunlight? From the angle of the sunlight dancing on my skin, I conclude that the window is to my left. So it is sun. I can't turn my head but I can feel the sun kissing my olive skin. Being in the basement so long makes me appreciate the sunlight.

After a few moments of rapid blinking my fuzzy vision clears. I'm able to see that I'm in a room. A white room with white walls. The first sound I notice is a beeping noise coming from a machine. It makes my head throb worse so I try to lift my hand to clutch my pounding head but I can't move it. What is wrong with my arm? 

I hear faint talking on my right side so I assume that there's another bed in this room. Looking from my peripheral I can see that a blue curtain separates me from the other person.

Before I can ask any questions a lady with light pink scrubs walks in.  Her curly blond hair flows down her back in a high ponytail while her posture indicates exhaustion. She holds a clipboard in her manicured hands and once she's finished writing she smiles at me. I try to sit up but realize that I can't move my legs either. What is wrong with my head, arms, and legs? 

"Her stitching went well and everything else seems to be fine now Mr.-"

"Thompson. Richard Thompson but you can call me Rich." the voice replies casually. It's an unpleasantly familiar voice. 

"Oh okay. Well Rich, your daughter...wait, are you sure you're her father. You look-"  she gives him a skeptical look before being cut off again.

"Yeah, her mom and I had her young- very young. We were 14." he lies.

I open my mouth to tell her the truth but I can't move it. I notice my arms lay limp and my efforts to move them are still futile. Even kicking my legs has become a difficult task. All of my energy is put into trying to move so I'm not surprised when I start to sweat. Swallowing heavily, I wince when my throat starts to burn again. 

"Still trying to fight?" he laughs at my weak attempt to move. His lips spread wryly while my eyes travel to where the nurse stood. My face mirrors disappointment when I don't see her anymore. 

And even though she's out of the room I am determined to get help so I keep trying to exert my muscles. It's like trying to move a tree. My entire body feels stiffer than a board while my forehead is drenched in sweat. The more I try to move the more my raw neck aches. The only good news is that my migraine has dulled down to a faint throb.

"Are you alright sweetie?" The same nurse, Patty walks over to me. My mouth, arms, and legs can't move but my facial muscles can. 

I try to show how afraid I am but the man, Rich steps in. He's beside her, glaring daggers at me.

"She's just trying to adjust to the temporary paralysis." 

Temporary? So it won't last? My eyebrows furrow while I'm in thought.

"You're paralyzed from the car accident. Pieces of broken glass slit your throat and hit a few nerves, remember?" She speaks slowly, as if I can't understand English.

He asks her how long it will last and she tells him I'll be moving around in thirty minutes. 

"You know Rich, you're not that bad looking." She smirks flirtatiously with her hand on his arm.

"Yeah, I've heard that before." he mumbles whils staring at me. 

"If you want, I could give you my number and we could-"