Concerning Chance ✔

TWENTY-ONE

The entire time I'm unconscious I hear my name whispered. Sometimes it's my parents, sometimes it's Lilia, sometimes it's Max. Most of the time, I hear Chance. All of them urging me to wake up.

When I finally regain consciousness, the putrid, bleached-clean aroma of a hospital overwhelms me. I rush to sit up, my hands almost slipping off the edges of the narrow bed as I scoot back and lean against my pillow.

I have no concept of time or day; the hospital's blinding-white beams above me make an irritating slight humming sound and make my head throb even more than it already does.

My head... I reach my hand up to find a bandage covering my temple, where I hit the ground.

"Shit..." I groan while rubbing my face with both hands.

"Rory?"

I look up to see Max standing in front of me, clearly having just re-entered the privacy curtain around my bed, holding a disposable cup of coffee in his hand and his phone in the other. The sounds of the ward flood into focus, though it's fairly quiet.

"Max... What happened?" I shake my head as Max walks over to my bedside.

"You found her, Rory," Max tells me, his mouth twisted in a forlorn half-smile. "You found Chance."

"Where is she?" I ask desperately, swinging my legs off the bed to get up. "Where's Chance?"

It turns out I'm wearing a flimsy hospital gown, which has ridden up around my waist while I was sleeping. Thankfully I'm still wearing underwear.

That doesn't stop Max from blushing and stepping away from me.

I've loved you for ages — that's what he told me.

Ignoring him and the memory of that night, I stand up — only to experience a rushing sensation that makes me unsteady. I sway on my feet and then stumble a step forwards, only to end up sitting on the edge of the bed again. To say I'm not in the best state would be an understatement.

"You've got a concussion, Rory. You shouldn't be rushing around anywhere."

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday evening. The bonfire was the night before last," Max responds promptly, settling down in a seat beside my bed.

I refuse to believe the fact I've been unconscious for two full days. Yet as I glance across at the clock on the table beside me, I see the date reads TUESDAY. I don't know the exact time; the numbers are faded and barely give out any neon glow.

"Where are my parents?" I frown; I would've thought they'd be here.

"They've gone home to get some sleep — they've been sitting with you since you were brought into A&E," Max explains. "I stayed because... because, well, we didn't want you waking up with no one you know around you."

Once I've let the information sink in, I repeat my question, "Where's Chance?"

"She's in the hospital too," Max hesitates, clearly holding something back from me. He scrunches his hair back with a hand before it flops down over his forehead again.

"Tell me, Max. What is it?" My heart is creating a racket in my chest, banging against my ribcages, and demanding that I find out if Chance is okay.

"She's not doing too well, Rory," he explains slowly. "They're treating her for exposure and mild hypothermia... And then the doctors ran some more tests, and it turns out she has a brain injury."

I suck in a breath, guiltily thinking about how lucky I'd been in comparison to her.

"She's in the ICU now... They, um," Max clears his throat uncomfortably. "They had to put her in a medically-induced coma and—"