Secrets Inside Me

Miracle Case

     I wake up in an empty room. The air is thick and there are needles attached to tubes plugged into both of my arms and another tube of some sort no doubt to help me breathe and not die is attached to my nose. I notice that there is a black boot on my leg and my forehead feels stiff. I reach up and feel stitches from my right ear to the middle of my hairline, I wince from the pain but quickly get over it.

     All I hear is my heart monitor and I don't know if it's day or night because there's no windows in my room. I try to move and I feel fine but I accidentally hit a button that was right under me. Almost three seconds later a man walks through the door, no doubt my doctor according to what he's wearing. He looks about forty to forty-five with brown hair that was graying on the sides.

"You're awake. You weren't scheduled to wake up until approximately eight o'clock. You're still on sleeping medication." His eyes shifted up to my hand that was still near my stitches. "The stitches are fresh." I look up at him and give him a confused face. He acts as if I was supposed to know that. I already know where I am. Why I'm here. But what I don't know is why or how I'm even alive after something traumatic like that.

"Why am I able to be here, alive. Something like that should've killed me. And where is my dad?" Calling Robert my dad makes me want to throw up. It feels so wrong, like I'm lying (and not the good type). But I don't know how I'm supposed to identify him to other people. If I were to call him "Robert" or "Foster Dad" or if I even said that he's not my dad, it would raise questions like "What connection does he have to you?" or "What happened to your parents?" belonging to nosy people. And I hate those questions. So no matter how much I hate it, I suck it up and call him dad when I talk to people I don't know... which is pretty much everyone.

"Well, honestly we are very confused as well. When you and the other car hit impact, your head hit on your headrest, causing you to get simply a bruise."

"Ok..."

"It should have cracked your skull based on the speed the car was going at. Now I'm no mechanic, but when you tumbled down that hill your car should have had a gas leak, started a fire, and eventually exploded... There was no sign of any leakage." He looked at me as if he wanted me to say something. Luckily I have never had a problem with opening my mouth.

"So you're saying that I'm some sort of miracle case?" I asked.

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying." I scoffed at the idea that anything involving me could be a miracle. "Caroline. You should have died in that accident. But you came out with a broken leg, three bruises, and a few stitches. You should be praising God." He huffed out a sigh. "Unfortunately..." he started, "Your father was not as lucky. He died in the accident."

I didn't know what to say. Sure, no doubt I hated the man, I even wanted to kill him myself after he slapped me. But I never really meant for him to die. And who am I to get off so lucky? But I'm not going to lie. The bastard deserved it.

"Do you need anything at all?" He asked me breaking me out of my trance.

"Food."