When Death Falls

Waking Up Is A Good Thing

"What the actual fúck! Mira you nearly died! You shouldn't be sitting up! You'll tear out your stitches!" Hannah's voise rose to freaked out chipmunk level.

"I didn't nearly die! Calm yourself woman!" I yelled back. It was the only way to get through to her. Seriously, a little stab wound was nothing. Right? People get stabbed all the time! Okay, not ALL the time, but it's not like I got shot!

"Uh, yes, you did. Something about a nicked artery, or something. B*tch! You'e been in a coma for three days!" Well, that shut me the fúck up. I've lost three days of my life. Three days! Oh, crap! I was so fired!

"That sucks. Did I get fired yet?" I had to know. Chocolate didn't buy itself. Yeah, and the other important bills. Like rent, and food. Yeah, they were important too. Did my job suck? Yes. Yes it did. But it payed well. Now, it may not. I probabaly lost my weekend shift. Damnìt. That pervy boss of mine only gave me that shift cuz I looked cute in the uniform.

"You've been attacked, nearly died, and were in a coma. You're actually worried about your job?" Hannah threw her hands up. Well, we couldn't all get our dream job straight out of college, she did. I didn't. So my crap job was definitely a concern.

"Yes." I bluntly said. She looked at me crazy before rolling her eyes.

"No. I called him. He says get better fast." She may not like my job. Hello, I didn't either, but a job was job.

I was a bartender. A bartender at a bar whose claim to fame was good looking bartenders in very little clothing. Think short shorts and crop halter tops. Joy. Like I said though, the tips were very good.

"Well, that's good." I said placing my hand on my stomach, not even wanting to think about what the wound looked like. "Where's my phone?"

"Here. She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to me. I was so grateful I could have kissed her. Sober. She had kept my little addiction charged. Swiping it, I saw about 50 messages, and my missed calls were astronimical. Probably had a full voicemail too. Damn. I hated checking it. Took forever. I ignored them all and went into my favorites and punched my Dad's pic in the face. It didn't ring more than twice before it was picked up.

"Hannah? Why are you calling from Mira's phone?" My dad's deep voice came on and I nearly cried. Why is it that when you're hurt or scared you never cry until you talk to your parent?

"Cuz I'm not Hannah." I said, hating the small voice coming from me. I was an adult, promise! His end went quiet. I thought I heard a sound come from him. If he started crying. I was going to lose it. Gauranteed.

"Zitomira baby, thank god." He whispered. Seriously going to lose it soon. My dad was as tough as they come. Ex marine, marksmen, hunter, macho male extrordinare. Andre Evans was a serious dude. Half Ukranian and half English. Which was how he got his name. Also, how I got mine. Thanks Gran. Not that I didn't dig my name. I do now. When I was a kid, I hated it. So I decreed that everyone call me Mira. Much cooler.

"Hey Daddy." I said, a little more like an adult. I could hear my mom sobbing in the background. My mom was Italian and proud of it. While her husband was serious, Ilaria Evans was boisterous and outgoing. She was also an amazing cook. I thank her everytime I look in the mirror for my dark hair, high cheekbones, and my figure. Everything else was my dad. Blue eyes and pale skin that burns easy. Not that I was into tans. She was also very smothering. And emotional. I always said Hannah was her daughter she had in secret.

"Baby, we're on our way." He hung up at that. Great. Just what I needed. My dad standing over me and my mother sobbing on me praising saints in Italian. I set my phone down, already exhausted just thinking of it.

"They're on their way." I said very cryptic and looked at Hannah. Her eyes widened, then she shrugged.

"Well, I guess it could go two ways. Either way she will bring pasta and since you can't eat it right now, I get too. Win win for me. I just hope she doesn't get medicated again like the last time you were in the hospital." Hannah grimaced as she sat in the chair adjacent to my bed. I groaned at the memory of last time. I had broke my leg when I was 14 and you would have thought I was dying the way my mom carried on. During the surgery to fix it, the docs had to sedate her. It was that bad. It was also extremely embarassing for me as they wheeled me away.

"I wonder if they could put me back in the coma." I said half serious. Hannah reached over and smacked my arm, thankfully not the one with all the tubes in it.

"Stupid! Waking up is a good thing!" Hanna shouted. Just when I thought the same as her, a nurse walked in. The following tests made me not believe that. The resulting arrival of my parents though brought my gratitude back. Waking up was definitely a good thing I thought as I was hugged by my mother.