athazagoraphobia // c.h.

now

"what was the point of being able to forgive, when deep down, you both had to admit you'd never forget?" - jodi picoult

now - march third, two thousand fourteen

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the first thing i hear when i wake up is a constant beeping sound. my eyes open slowly, and i look around at my surroundings with blurry eyes. i'm in a hospital room, cliche white walls and a heart monitor and wires and needles going into me, and i'm lying in a huge hospital bed - compared to the ratio of my height - with white sheets and blankets pulled up to my torso.

"hey angel, how are you feeling?" my mum asks from beside me. i turn my head to look at her, frowning when i see the dried tear tracks on her cheeks.

"okay, what happened, mum?" i ask, my voice hoarse.

"someone pushed you down the stairs at your new school, honey. your father rushed you here right away, and i flew down here immediately. you've been in a coma for about two weeks, and calum and i have - " i cut off my mum's rambling.

"wait, new school? dad? and who is calum?" i ask my mum. her eyes fill with tears, and she quickly looks away.

"what's the date, mum," i ask quietly, horrified at what the answer might be.

"march third, two thousand and fourteen," she replies. i look up, gawking at her.

"you must be joking, right? just yesterday was july sixth, your birthday!" i exclaim, wincing at how sore my throat is from not talking.

"i brought you coffee, ms. kathy - amaranth! you're awake!" a stranger crows from the doorway. he hands my exiting mum a cup, what i assume is coffee, before he takes her place beside me.

the first thing i notice about the stranger is his eyes. they're beautiful, a hypnotizing, beautiful, rich brown color that seems to pierce through me. i notice studs in his ears and one in his eyebrow; tattoos cover his arms, his biceps defined and showing through his black nirvana t-shirt.

"i brought you a pair of clothes when you woke up, that way you would've comfortable," he tells me, gesturing to a bag on the floor. he takes my hand in his and gently rubs soothing circles on my pain. i gingerly pull it away, resisting the sparks that flood through my body.

"who are you?" i ask softly, not wanting to hurt the tattooed angel in front of me. it seems i have though, because his expression changes from joyous to troubled.

"what do you mean, mar? it's me, calum. do you not remember me?" he asks, his eyebrows frowning. i shake my head sadly. calum stands up, tears in his eyes, and storms out, hitting the wall outside the room.

"how long will she be like this? when will she remember me?" he yells at a doctor about to enter my hospital room; i flinch.

"she may never fully recover. i'm sorry, son, you'll just have to wait," the doctor says softly. calum howls in anguish and whimpers, giving me one last look before walking down the hallway. i shake with silent sobs, wondering why i'm so affected by a stranger.