One Last Star

1.3

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.
- Mahatma Gandhi

22/04/18

When I woke next, the pretty nurse explained that I had been heavily sedated to stop the panic attack from getting any worse. She also told me that my family had become extremely distraught. They had come all the way to the hospital because I had woken up only to discover that a severe panic attack had forced the doctors to sedate me into a slumber for twelve hours. My mother had almost fainted in the lobby of the hospital whilst my father and brother had held onto each other for support. As if they were the only people keeping each other sane. The nurse told me of the horrible noise that my mother made as she cried and the terrible tears that ran down everyone's cheeks. She told me of the awful scene they made and the hearts that broke as they made it. I wanted to ask why but the nurse just said,

"Rest, Kayla for your family is too emotionally unstable for them to see you right now. I don't want another panic attack. I don't need them becoming a regular thing. Rest, now. I'll bring you some food."

I reached over and picked up the water bottle on the table and took a swig. My hands looked bigger. My fingers were longer and dainty.

Soon after finishing the questionable hospital food, the pretty nurse came in again. This time, three people were behind her. "Oh baby," the lady said, "my baby girl is awake!"

"Mummy," I cried and she swooped down and fiercely hugged me. Her tears wet my shoulder but I couldn't care less. I was back with Mummy and nothing was going to change that.

Ever again.

Next came my brother and guilt suddenly enveloped me. "Kayla," he whispered gently and stroked my jaw with a finger. Tenderly, softly he framed my face with his hands before his face exploded in a smile so very wide. "I've missed you, baby sister."

What was his name?

Tim. It came to me in a flash. A scream. The sound of scraping metal on concrete. Tim! A voiced screamed, Timmy!

Then as quick as lightning, the girl's voice was cut off with a crunching sound and a sickening gurgle. I felt sick but I needed a few questions answered.

"Why are you like this? Why am I here? What happened?" I asked. The look on my fathers face terrified me and I almost blocked my ears.

"Kayla," he said softly. I started to squirm. No, no, no. This was the voice he used when my bunny, Bessie died when I was four. This was the voice he used when telling me bad news. "Kayla, you've been in a coma

for nine years."