When I wake up, the immediate pain I feel in my head is overwhelming. I let out a groan, and try to roll over. My eyes can barely open, as the stark white color of the room surrounding me is too bright for the throbbing behind my eyes.
"Up her dosage of morphine and codeine," I hear someone say. "She's waking up, we don't want her in pain." Through the slits in my eyes, I see someone in a white coat, probably a doctor, come over beside the bed where I lay. He picks up the chord to an IV and flicks a little wheel. I feel cool medicine coming into my bloodstream, and it goes into immediate effect of making me feel better.
I allow my eyes to adjust, slowly opening them wider and making out blurry figures that seem very far away. My dad sits in a chair next to me, and there are two nurses walking about the room checking various dials and buttons. A fourth blur comes into focus... Kristy?
"Kristy?" I mumble. My words sound garbled, since my lips feel so numb. Kristy smiles and relieved tears come to her eyes.
"She hasn't gone and lost her memory, thank goodness," Kristy whispers. "How do you feel, Becky?" Her question makes me feel sick. I feel like hell, as if I got run over by a bus. I'm afraid to look at my leg, it hurts as bad as my head, but I'm not ready to accept the injury. It was my fault, I never should have rushed into a stall where the horses rump was facing me. An amateur mistake.
"Fine," I lie, attempting to sit up. A sharp pain shoots through my leg, and I collapse back onto the bed, grinding my teeth to keep quiet. "Okay, maybe a little less than fine. Did you find Indie?" Kristy looked surprised.
"No, we didn't," she answered. "Not yet. Becky... that was two days ago. We lost her fifty six hours ago. We've lost heart. Nobody has found any signs of her, and we think it's best to move on." Unexpectedly, I felt completely crushed. They gave up on her. In less than two days, they had given up hope on finding their beloved animal. When my dog had gone missing in fifth grade, I spent three months looking for him. When everyone else had given up on Jesse, I kept searching. Then, one day, I was walking home from another day in the woods, I came across him laying beneath a bush. He had been injured, but he was okay. I carried him all the way home. I'll never forget the shock on the face of my father when his ten year old daughter walked in the door, three months after losing their dog.
Disappointment boils in the pit of my stomach. I can't believe they have given up. Why is it that nobody cares enough to try? I've known Indie for a week, and I've already fallen in love with her. How can Kristy possibly believe she should give up?
"We're glad you're all right," my dad jumps in, noticing the thoughts racing in my head. "You had quite a scare when you fell. You'll heal, but one of your ankles is badly broken. Horse hooves can do more damage than I imagined. It doesn't help either that you have a concussion from hitting your head. You're lucky you didn't fracture your skull."
I think about how much my dad must resent horses. Everyone he loves in his life has been hurt by their love for the animals, and he has told me many times that he doesn't understand why we go back to them. I feel bad for him; he must have been quite frightened when he got the phone call saying that his fifteen year old had a broken ankle and a possibly fractured skull.
"I'm sorry, dad," I whisper.
"I know you're sorry, sweetheart, it's just... I think we should take a break from horses for awhile." The look on his face tells me he knows what's coming, but I let it happen anyway.
"What?" I yell, which causes my head to pound even harder. I grind my teeth until the pain fades into tears. "Dad, you can't do that!"
