The Light Within [Completed]

Burning Dreams

"Wh... what do you mean," Sol's voice came out small.

Dr. Hendrickson gave a deep sigh, "Right now the swelling around the occipital lobe is preventing the signals from getting from the eyes to the brain."

"But... but once it goes down she'll been fine?" Mom asked, her voice shaking, "Why would it be permanent?"

Sol could almost feel the doctor shaking his head. "In cases of such extreme swelling, the nerves can become permanently damaged," Dr. Hendrickson paused for a moment, "I've seen many cases like this, and only very, very rarely have the nerves survived undamaged." Mom sobbed and Dad caught his breath, but Sol couldn't even comprehend what she was hearing.

"I hate to be the messenger of doom, but I have to be honest with you. There is little chance that your daughter will regain her sight."

"But isn't there anything you can do?" Mom was crying harder now.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Winters, but with this kind of damage there is nothing we can do."

The chair squeaked as Dad leaned forward. "You said you didn't have a chance to take a closer look. Isn't there a chance you could be mistaken?"

"Of course, but I'm almost completely certain. We will conduct the necessary tests to confirm it today," Dr. Hendrickson replied, his voice heavy with regret. For a long time the only sounds was the beeping of the monitors and Mom crying.

Solveigh felt a thousand miles away, so removed from the situation that she felt nothing. This could not be happening to her right now, but yet it was. She couldn't be blind, but yet she was. Her parents were clinging to the hope that the doctor was mistaken, but Sol didn't doubt him.

Dr. Hendrickson wouldn't have said anything if he didn't honestly believe in his diagnosis. "Can we do the test now?" Sol asked quietly. No sense in delaying the inevitable. If she was blind she wanted to know for certain... without a shadow of a doubt.

"Are you sure Sunny?" Mom asked, "Don't you want some time to... to let it ... to."

"No, Mom," Sol said, "I want to know." Right now she was distant, numb. If she waited, if she took the time to think it over, she would begin to feel something. And if she let herself feel anything, she would start crying and Sol didn't know if she would ever stop.

"I'll tell the nurse to start prepping the test," Dr. Hendrickson murmured and slipped out of the room.

Mom tried to take Sol's hand, but she pulled away. "Please, just don't... don't say anything." Solveigh knew all her parents wanted to do was help, but she couldn't take their pity. The wall between her and reality was too fragile. Eventually, the doctor came back in and Sol's bed was wheeled away.

Sol zoned out while they were taking the scans and running the tests and a whole bunch of other things. The only thing that really made it through the fog was the doctor saying that the scans confirmed what he thought.

The only test left was to take off the bandages. Solveigh sat stoically while the nurse carefully unwrapped the bandages. "Keep your eyes shut after I take 'em off, sweetie," the nurse said gently, "I'll tell ya when you can open 'em."

"Yeah," Sol sighed, "Sure." You could have cut the tension with a knife when the nurse pulled away the last bandage.

"All right, sweetie, you can open 'em."

Sol took a deep breath. She had shoved the pain down all day, but now it came clawing to the surface. Now or never. Slowly, cautiously, Sol opened her eyes. Blackness, like the darkest depths of night pressed down on her from all sides. No... She was blind, her dreams nothing but a burning heap of ashes. The tears Sol had held in came pouring out, and she sobbed like her heart had been torn out.