Matt & Doe | Complete

Chapter 20

"O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror." Psalm 6:2
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Doe's POV

I groaned aloud, waking up after what seemed like days.

I painfully forced open my eyes to see a white, tiled ceiling. There was a blinding light above me and I squinted to notice the bulb. I rubbed my sore eyes. The place smelt of disinfect and old rubber. I heard a variety of voices outside the room, as I looked around to notice the machine beside the bed.

I was in a hospital.

It took a while for me to acknowledge the sting in my back, shoulders and knees. I was stiff, my body feeling battered and bruised. Worst of all, I had the taste of vomit creeping up my throat.

There was a loud, squeaking sound coming from the other side of the room and I slowly turned to see Matthew shifting on an office chair. Our eyes met and he flashed a cheesy smile, rolling over to my bedside.

"Rise and shine," he laughed shortly, shooting his brows up, "Thank goodness you're awake."

Matthew was holding a small cup of neon-green jello and ate some before sighing.

"Wait..." I sat up cautiously, after he reached out to help me, "What about...the fair?"

He fixed a cushion that was rested near my lower back. His bare hands slid across my skin doubling the immense pain I already had. I winced loudly and he apologised.

Everywhere hurt, an intolerable pain.

And I had trouble recalling why.

"...What happened?" I croaked.

"You got into an accident. Did you forget?" Matthew spoke with a sarcastic tone and I frowned.

I frowned, mainly because Matt's reminder was a huge blow to the face. Gradually, it all came back to me.  Now, if my memory served me right....

The taxi driver and I had been getting along quite well. I was in the front seat while his wife was in the back. All three of us were fighting to follow Matthew's poorly written directions to his mom's home, when we had stopped at a gas station. That had taken nearly twenty minutes.

Once we got back on the road, the atmosphere in the car was different. Minutes had gone by, then suddenly, the wife reached from behind me, unbuckled my seatbelt and tried to hold me down. It had caused such a commotion, and the driver tried to focus on the road, all while trying to grab my purse and phone. I had fought back, obviously, and with the spark of the drama, the driver lost control of the car.

We had slammed into another vehicle, I believed, or maybe a light pole. The memory blurred.

I remembered practically flying to the other side of the car and banging my head against the window on impact.

I had woken up on top of the driver whose head was scratched up and hanging low. I had opened the car door, crashing to the ground in a yell. Then I tried to stumble away, looking around for help. My assumption was that I had passed out eventually, since I woke up in the hospital.

I explained it to Matthew to make sure I made sense, and he nodded sympathetically.

"It adds up with what some people said so you're not going crazy," he added, "It was another car, not a pole. And they recovered your purse so don't worry."

"...And the driver?"

"He and his wife are dead."

Those words made my stomach churn. I lurched forward, vomiting into my own hands.