Two
"Hey, are you okay?"
The blackness had fully enveloped me, and my body was numb, but I had a slight sense of what was going on around me. I couldn't feel, but I could hear a few muffled voices, as if some people were talking under water.
"Call an ambulance!"
The sky, a mellow crimson colour, was darkening as the sun set on the horizon, night falling over the beach we were on. I stretched out my arms and legs as I lay in the sand, grinning up at the sky. "It's days like these that I'm happy to be alive," I say simply.
Beside me lay my best friend, Zara, who, even as a twelve year old, always looked at peace. She let out a sigh of contentment and propped her hands behind her head. "You should always be happy to be alive," she said, speaking wisely. Rolling onto her side, Zara turned to face me. "Life is a gift."
"Gosh," I said chuckling. "You sound like Yoda."
She places her hand on her chest, rolling back over onto her back and pretending to look hurt. "I'm much too attractive to be yoda," Zara says dramatically.
"Sure..." I say, shaking my head. Though I was only twelve, I could tell the difference between being rude and joking, and with Zara there was never anything rude said.
She scoffed, scooping up a pile of sand and throwing it in my direction. I narrowly dodged it, laughing.
I opened my eyes, the world around me blurry. It felt as if I was riding in the car again, moving along. Realizing I was being pushed on a stretcher, I tried my hardest not to panic at the fact that I couldn't move my arms or legs. My body felt paralyzed, tingling in all the wrong ways.
Looking up, my gaze settled on a shadowy, tall figure, face hidden from my view. Although I couldn't make out the features, something clicked in my mind, telling me it was a male- an unfamiliar one. A few other unfamiliar faces crosses my line of vision every now and then, a couple with strange masks on.
You're in a hospital, I told myself at one stage. They're doctors. What do you expect?
I was feeling really faint again, and I could see the darkness seeping back, faltering my sight. My whole body tingled and throbbed continuously, but I couldn't cry or scream out. There was something wrong- something stopping me from saying or doing anything at all.
"She's losing consciousness again," a deep voice rung out. "We need to hurry. She's going into shock."
I just want to sleep... I think, as a strange feeling of exhaustion overwhelms me and I suddenly can't stand to keep my eyes open any longer. It's too painful.
So, I give into the darkness again, letting my eyelids droop.
"Come on, Elle," Zara encouraged, giving me a nudge. "You are fifteen years old and haven't had a boyfriend. You can do this!"
I knew my friend was only trying to help me get the guy of my dreams, but I really just wanted her to stop. I didn't want a boyfriend. Not right now. My studied were my main focus. I had to get good grades so that I'd get a good job. And I didn't like him that much...
"No, look, its okay," I insisted, backing up. Zara was slowly trying to nudge me closer to the boy, but I kept inching backwards. "I really don't want this. Please." I almost was pleading now, feeling rather pathetic.
"As your friend I'm meant to push you to do things!" Zara exclaimed. "I don't get why you won't do this?"
"I don't want a boyfriend," I groaned, shaking my head. "I mean, yes he's very, very, very-"
"Okay, I get the point."
"-attractive," I finish, not able to help myself from staring. "But it's okay. Please just drop it?"
Zara sighs, shaking her head. "Fine, but!" she slings her arms around my shoulders, grinning. "Only if you buy me lunch today."
I gave a low chuckle as we started walking in the opposite direction of the boy and my heart rate seemed to decrease a little. "No."
She bit her lip, grinning. "Wrong answer." Before I could register what she was doing, she'd spun me around, back into the direction of the boy and had shouted out his name, gesturing for him to come towards us. He looked up from the conversation he was deeply engaged in with his friend, and his eyes met Zara's for a second, before he looked to me. His dark eyes were a gorgeous brown, as brown as his hair. Stop staring, I scolded myself.
"Zara," I let out a low growl as the boy made his way over to us.
Pretending she didn't hear me, Zara smiled and gave me a shove towards the boy. "El just wanted to ask you a question."
I dared a look up at him and gave a small, nervous smile, holding my arm anxiously. "Uh-Hi..." I murmured.
"Honey? Can you stay conscious for me a little while longer?" Another deep, calm voice spoke, causing me to open my eyes. "Talk to me, yeah? Tell me a story."
My throat was too dry and my tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth. I couldn't talk, not feeling like this. Something warm slipped down my cheek- a tear. I was well and truly scared. I didn't want to die- I wasn't ready just yet. "I-" I tried, clearing my throat a little. "I-It hurts," I stutter.
"I know, but you've got to stay strong, okay?" He leaned down, watching me as we continued to move down the corridor quickly. "Stay awake."
"I-" I took a deep breath as another tear slipped down my cheek, the blackness returning. The odd tingling and throbbing was too much to handle. It was just too awful. "-Can't..." I let out, slowly letting myself seep back into the darkness, just wanting it to end.
It was pouring with rain. That was the main thing I remembered about that day. It was dull, dreary and dark. I stood under a large, black umbrella beside my mother, dressed in a long, black dress, as all the other women here were dressed. The tears trickled down my cheeks- I'd tried to be strong, but I just couldn't, not after everything.
I looked up at Zara's mother, her face red and blotchy from crying, as she stood on the podium and talked in front of all her friends and family. "She was a strong girl- never cried when she hurt herself and always stood up for what she believed in," she tilted her head back, trying to stop herself from crying. "She didn't deserve to go so young. Just seventeen years old."
A sob escaped my throat, and I averted my gaze down to the ground, where the coffin lay, ready to be lowered into the whole that had been dug for it earlier. On the plaque read the unmistakable words of 'Zara Yorkman- beloved daughter, sister & friend.
She really was gone.
***
"-doesn't wake up soon, we're going to have to turn her off."
I took in a deep breath and slowly fluttered my eyes open- I was in a very white room. The walls and ceilings were white. The floor was tiles were white. The bed sheets covering me were white.
There was a sigh. "Just give her a little more time," a voice spoke, somehow familiar, yet I didn't know who it belonged to. "She can make it."
The same voice as before spoke, voice hushed, "You said the same thing about her mother. And look where she is."
Groaning, I spoke up. "Where's my mother?"
There was a silence for a few moments before I heard footsteps on the tiles, gradually making their way towards me. Soon, two figures emerged from around the corner, entering through a door of which I assumed belonged to my hospital room. A man dressed in a white coat held a clip board, his facial expressions revealing shock. His greying hair was askew and wrinkles coated various parts of his face, but he seemed like a gentle man.
Beside him stood another unfamiliar face- a boy, maybe a few years older than me. He had dark, brown hair- messily touselled, and a strong but slim build. On his face, he wore the emotion of relief. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, and his grey eyes stared into mine. I felt my chest flutter and my stomach drop from the intensity of his gaze, and something else.
I assumed these were the two people whom the voices belonged to- a doctor and a stranger. "I-I'm sorry," the boy almost whispered, his voice warm and soft.
"Where's my mother?" I repeated, looking to the doctor this time, my brow creasing.
The doctor straightened out. "She didn't make it," he said, concern in his eyes. I couldn't imagine the amount of times he'd had to say those words to other patients.
Suddenly a thought struck me: we were in a car crash.
I took a deep breath and crinkled up my face, trying not to cry. "S-she's dead," I asked, though it wasn't really more of a question.
"I'm so sorry," the boy said, looking me in the eyes, his gaze so sincere.
"I-" I'm not sure what to say to this boy. Why is he here? Why is he sorry? Instead, I look at the doctor. "How long was I asleep?"
"You were in a coma," the doctor corrects, "For four months."
"What?"