Sisters [book one]

Chapter Five

Dedicated to @Otterprints because she's just so awesome and is always so supportive.

Chapter Five

I'm lulled from my sleep. Dad's face is the first thing I see. "What?" I say, because I'm incapable of constructing a coherent sentence. The digital clock on my bed-side table reads 3:03. In the morning.

"We need to go to the hospital," Dad says, "Michele's been in an accident."

I sit up and Mom's head pokes around the door. "Is she okay?" I say.

"We'll explain in a minute," Mom says. Her eyes are red. "Just get dressed."

I grip the side of the bed. I feel sick.

Mom and Dad leave the room and I get dressed. I think of the last time I saw her. She was getting into the backseat of a cab with her friends to a nightclub somewhere. A thousand possibilities whir around my brain, each one sounding likelier than the next. Was there a stabbing? Did she drink too much? For a split second, I picture my life without Michele and I feel a physical pain in my chest.

Mom and Dad are waiting for me by the front door; Mom's sliding on her coat and Dad's putting on his shoes. Together, we step into the cold night.

"What's happened?" I say.

"We got a call from the hospital," Dad says. He rubs his hands together in the drivers' seat. "Michele was in an accident."

We pull out of the driveway. "What kind of accident?" I say.

"She got hit by a car that skipped a red light," Mom says.

But what does that mean? I know that if you're hit by a car that's driving at thirty miles an hour, then you'll have an eighty percent chance of surviving.

However, I also know that if you're hit by a car that's going at forty miles, then you only have a twenty percent chance of surviving.

"What was she doing out on the streets?" I say. Michele should've either be in a nightclub or in a taxi. She shouldn't have been wandering around. "Was she with anyone else?"

"We have no idea," Mom says.

I feel lightheaded so I put my head between my knees. I breathe the capacity of my lungs.

"Is she going to die?" I whisper.

Neither Mom nor Dad hear me (or they don't want to hear me) and so the car's overcome with an excruciating silence. I manage to look out the window. Not a single light is on in any of the houses we pass. I'm sure we don't meet another car on the way either.

We pull into the hospital's parking lot and the floodlights cause me to squint. Mom, Dad and I run to the entrance. The reception is guarded by a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and square glasses. We say who we are and we're directed to Michele's room. The hallways and stairs are empty. It smells like disinfectant.

We get lost in the Physiotherapy Department and Dad has to ask for help from a person we meet along the way.

Finally, we arrive at Critical Care. I hesitate before I follow my parents into Michele's room.

Her limp body is attached to every machine. One of them beeps, a moniter of her heartbeat. She wears a hospital gown. Doctors and nurses examine my sister; they take notes and talk in low voices about things that are beyond my knowledge.

A doctor ushers us out of the room; he tells us to sit down.

"When can we see her?" Dad says.

"Michele's sedated right now, which is the best thing for her as her body has endured heavy trauma," the doctor explains. He's middle-aged, experienced, and in a way I feel like my sister's in good hands.

"When will she wake up?" Mom says.

"When she got hit by the car, her head received most of the impact. Over the next few weeks, we're going to keep her sedated and try to ease her off it as time goes by. Unfortunately, I have to warn you now that she might not wake up."

Mom starts to cry. I look at Dad and his pupils have glazed over. "We have to wait?" I say.

The doctor nods. "Yes, for a little while. She's is lucky to be alive."

Lucky? How is this situation in any way lucky?

Mom lets out a sob and Dad puts his arm around her. "What was she doing out and about anyway? Where are her friends?" Dad says.

"Do you know who she was with?" the doctor says.

"Steph," I pipe up, because I remember her saying. "Stephanie Morgan."

The doctor nods. "Anyone else?"

"Jennifer Jackson and other people I don't know."

"When can we see her?" Dad says.

"Soon," is all the doctor says, and I put my head in my hands.

* *

Twenty minutes pass before we're allowed to see her again.

I'm the first inside this time. I run to her bedside and collapse at the knees. Her makeup's been rubbed off and she's not longer wearing her hair extensions. I'm scared to touch her, scared to hold her hand in case she stops breathing.

"Michele?" I whisper, and my eye well with tears. "Please wake up, please."

How can something like this happen to someone who hasn't done anything wrong?

Heavy footsteps pound up the corridor and three girls burst into the room: Jennifer, Steph and Sam, the three girls whom Michele went to Australia with. Steph and Jennifer are still wearing their skimpy dresses from the nightclub.

"It's my fault!" Steph says. "We had an argument, she left the nightclub and I let her. I thought she'd got a cab and had gone home, I didn't think she would get hit by a car!" I believe her because I know she would never hurt Michele. They've been best friends since elementary school.

"Ladies, I'm sorry," one of the nurses says, "Family only."

The three girls leave. Mom comes to my side and touches my shoulder. I drown in a pool of tears.

* *

It's a long wait through the night.

I take a trip to the cafeteria and I buy myself a coffee from the machine. I have to add five sugars to it to make it sweet enough for me to drink. I think it will give me a boost to stop me from falling asleep, only to find I can't sit still. I pace up and down the corridor outside Michele's room for at least an hour.

Mom and Dad want me to go home and sleep but I know won't be able to. All I can think about is Michele and how, when she wakes up, I have to be the first person she sees.