"There we are," an older man's voice coos. "Follow the light with your eyes." There's a bright flash and it's like looking straight into the sun. Emma tries to keep up but gets lost. "Do you remember your name, sweetheart?"
"Emma."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"Do you know what city you're in?"
"Philadelphia." She hears the doctor take a few steps away.
"Patient is concussed," he says quietly. "No obvious memory impairments. Delay in basic motor functions and eye movement."
The next time she remembers being awake she's in a bland hospital room. The curtains around the windows are drawn and the only light comes from a small lamp. Looking around, she sees her mom sitting in the corner flipping through a magazine. "Mom?"
"Oh," she beams. "I'm so glad to see you awake. I'll call a nurse." Emma closes her eyes until she hears her mother return. "Are you in pain?" She nods yes. Her entire body aches.
"What's happening?"
"Relax," Kay tries to soothe her. A nurse comes into the room calmly and approaches her. "She said she's hurting."
"I bet," the nurse chuckles and checks her IV. "That was a nasty fall you had."
"Fall?" She asks. She cringes at the memory of the sound echoing through her ears, but she can't remember falling.
"Yep." The nurse injects a fluid into her hand. "You slipped on a patch of ice. You've got a couple of stitches on the back of your head."
"My arm?" She asks looking at the firmly wrapped gauze around it.
"It's just a small injury. The doctor can explain better than I can."
"It doesn't feel like a small injury," Emma mumbles as the painkillers enter her system. Looking around for a clock she sees that it's barely 8:00 AM. Her mother must have sped the whole way to get here that quick. She takes a couple heavy blinks and looks up at the tiled ceiling. Her head pounds and the cut in the back of her head has made itself known.
"Are you hungry?" The nurse asks. "We can get you something to eat."
"I'm okay," Emma says with a cringe. The thought of eating with this headache makes her queasy. Her tastebuds are stained with the flavor of stale alcohol and mouth breathing. "Maybe a drink?"
"Absolutely. If you change your mind about food, let us know. Dr. Marron should be here any minute."
The door clicks behind her as she leaves. Emma lays her head back on the starchy pillow and closes her eyes. The fluorescent light burns through her eyelids but it would take too much effort to ask for them to be turned off. It seems like an eternity before the door opens again.
The Doctor introduces himself to Emma, having already met her mother. He opens his laptop and begins typing away as he speaks. "Well," he says then turns the screen around. "You have an olecranon fracture on your right arm," he points to the line of her x-ray. "Along with a small fracture on your wrist. We're going to go in and put in a couple of pins and then put a hard cast over it."
"And her head?" Kay asks.
"Grade three concussion. You were conscious when medics arrived, so it's hard to be sure. You don't seem to have any severe impairments, though, so I'm not too concerned. That's not to say you're in the clear. The next few weeks won't be fun, " he says as he shuts the laptop. "The University will be opening an investigation into the accident."
"Why?" Emma asks quickly.
"What kind of an investigation?" Kay asks nearly at the same time.
"It's required anytime there is an injury on campus. They'll want to find the cause and make sure they're not liable. Typically they wrap up rather quickly, a statement is taken and then it's over."
"Why?" Emma asks again.
"The University has to look for structural issues- chips in stairs, unsalted sidewalks... Or tracking down who provided alcohol to an underage student and whether or not that individual is affiliated with any student organizations. In case of a lawsuit, or other legal matters."
"I don't remember falling," Emma says. She closes her eyes and rubs them with her fists. All she can recall is the sound. "I won't have much to say."
"That's not unusual," he assures her. "The University Police will probably stop by sometime today."
"How long will she be staying here?"
"At least tonight." He turns to speak with Emma. "You'll go into surgery first thing in the morning, we'll get your elbow all fixed up, and if you feel up to it you can be on your way."
"Perfect," Emma says.
"Get some rest." He stands from his seat. "Don't hesitate to call for a nurse if you need anything."
In a matter of minutes, after he leaves the room, she's asleep again. The conversation had been exhausting and very confusing for her. It's overstimulation. The information comes quicker than she can absorb it.
She doesn't wake up again until it's lunchtime. She's thirsty. Very thirsty. They bring her a place of lunch with a small orange juice, but it's drained before the nurse leaves the room. Upon the first bite of her sandwich, she realizes she's hungry as well. It had been well over 24 hours since she'd had anything to eat.
She eats, or devours really, her meal without a word. She leans back against her mattress when she remembers her mother is there. "You feeling better?" The older woman jokes.
"Not really, no." Emma smiles a pained smile. "My whole body hurts and I'm dizzy."
"You've got pain meds for the first part, but, unfortunately, you're going to be dizzy for a while."
Coincidentally, a different nurse from earlier knocks and enters her room. She injects something into her IV and takes her food tray. She feels like a little girl again having her mom help her to and from the restroom. While washing her hands, she catches a look at herself.
It's nothing she hasn't seen before. It's the face of someone who had obviously been out the night before. To be honest- she'd looked worse. At least someone took her makeup off. That's more than she normally did.
Instinctively, her good hand reaches back to run her fingers through her hair. It's oddly tame, someone must have brushed it. She grimaces at a few tender spots but pauses when feels a foreign material on her head. It's on the upper left side of her head, and her hair is parted around it.
"Did they cut my hair?" She croaks to the other side of the door.
"What?" Her mom's response is muffled.
"My hair?" She opens the door. "They shaved off my hair."
"Well yeah," Kay responds. "It would be unsanitary if they didn't. It's standard for stitches."
"Fuck," Emma sighs. She returns to her bed. She waits for her mom's assistance before trying to lay back down. She hates feeling so dependent. One wrong move and she's crying out from the pain in her arm.
She stirs awake again. There are no windows in her room but she has a feeling it's in the afternoon. Her mom isn't in her seat. Emma's throat is desperately dry and she craves water. After waiting a few minutes for her mom, she rings the nurse's button and asks for water.
"Here you go," the nurse says when she enters a few minutes later. "The University Police are here, but I told them they had to wait until you woke up."
"Oh," Emma says between gulps.
"Do you want to wait for your mom to get back?"
"No, that's okay. They can come."
Emma's palms sweat as she waits on the officers to come in. She's unsure of what to say to them, and her gut reaction is that she'll get in trouble. She had been drinking that night. If they did any other tests she would definitely test positive for other drugs.
Two uniformed men enter her room and take a seat. The taller one pulls his chair closer to her bed and offers her a handshake before sitting. She hesitantly returns it with her IV prodded hand. "Hi, Emily. I'm Officer Brady and that is Officer Louse. We have a couple of questions okay?"
"Okay," she says slowly.
"You're not in trouble, you're not a suspect and you're not obligated to answer any questions. Do you understand?" Emma nods. "Can you give me your full name?"
"Emily Elaine Parker."
"What year are you?"
"I'm a freshman.
"To the best of your ability, can you tell me what happened last night?"
"I don't remember," Emma answers.
"You don't remember anything? Anything from before the incident?"
"I mean- I was at a party."
"Where at?"
"The Lambda Kappa Pi house. I don't know an address."
The officer asks an abundant amount of redundant questions. How did you get there? Who were you with? Blah, blah, blah. Emma answers as many as she can, but her mind draws a blank the longer the interview goes on. A lot of "I don't remember" replies are in the air.
"Your blood alcohol concentration was at .172, which doesn't do you any favors," the detective says. Emma says nothing and picks at the blanket instead. "That's pretty high for your size."
"Okay."
"Did you leave the house alone?"
"Um, no," she thinks, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. "I was with a friend- Liza Merrit. She walked part of the way then we separated."
"Do you know about what time that was?" She shakes her head no. "Or whereabouts on campus you were?"
"Yeah," Emma says and shows him on a map.
"Okay, I think that's all we need for now." The officer stands. "We'll keep you updated."
Kay returns as they're exiting out of the room. They give her a card with their numbers and names for her to call with any questions. She hands Emma a paper bag. "I got you a muffin."
"Thank you," Emma says as she unwraps it. She picks at it with her fingers, taking small bites at first.
"What did they ask you?"
"Just generic things... Where were you." She rolls her eyes and takes a bite. "That kinda stuff."
"I'm surprised they didn't give you more time to recover. Some of your memory could come back."
"I hope not," Emma shudders. "I'd rather not remember." They sit in silence for a moment before Emma speaks again. "Where were you?"
"I got lunch. Then, I went to check into my hotel," Kay explains. "Nothing fun."
"You're staying?" Emma's shocked that her mother could get the time off from work.
"Of course," Kay responds. "You can't take care of yourself right now. Look at your arm."
"How long are you staying."
"Until we get everything figured out," Kay answers curtly. Emma almost comments on her attitude but doesn't. She can see how exhausted her mom looks, and how inconvenient this all is to her mom.
"Where are you-" Emma stops before the sentence comes out. She knows where her mother is staying, and she feels stupid for not figuring out immediately. "Where's Roman?"
"He's on his way. He should be here in an hour or so."
"Why'd you call him?" She groans.
"Because he'd want me to?" Her mother responds, baffled. "And I assumed you would want him to know." Emma slams her head back, forgetting she has an injury there. She swears at the pain. "Well, excuse me if I can't keep up with your fights."
"It's not a fight because he doesn't have an argument to make."
"You guys used to never fight, I don't get it." Kay slumps back and opens her book. Emma would love to have an explanation to share but she doesn't.
........
Roman doesn't arrive until later in the evening when her mom has left and she's finishing up dinner. She struggles with her not-dominant hand to pick eat jello. She knows he's there before he knocks. There's a shift in the air she breathes in and it chills her skin. She anticipates his knock before his hand is even raised. "Come in."
"Hey," he says, taking his time to shut the door quietly behind him. "How are you feeling?"
"Why are you here?" She asks with as little interest as possible.
"I wanted to check on you."
"Well, you checked on me. I'm fine." She picks at her jello and doesn't lookup.
"Emma," he sighs. It's the sigh he always does when he wants to have the upper hand. The moral high ground. He's the one putting everything aside for her safety, and she's the problem. She's heard it a million times before. "Something's happening."
"Yeah. I'm trying to eat my jello in peace and you are ruining that."
"You don't like jello."
"I still want to eat it," she retorts in a fashion that only validates his sighs.
"Have you had any strange dreams?"
"Stop with the dreams. Just stop."
"I get that you're mad at me, but this is serious," he argues with his eyebrows raises high.
"Roman, I have a broken arm, a broken wrist... And," she adds after a stab at the jello. "I have a concussion which I always seem to have whenever your dumbass dreams get involved."
"You know that they're not just dumb dreams," he counters.
"I don't know that at all."
"I'm telling the truth."
"You don't exactly have a great record on being honest," she snips.
"Are you in love with me or something?" He shoots.
"No," she swallows back a snarl. "I'm fucking furious that you didn't tell me the truth."
"I didn't tell anyone-"
"You told Miranda." She tries to bite back the disdain in her voice, but based on his reaction, she doesn't think she did a great job.
"She found out on her own," he says before letting out a deep breath. "She doesn't even know the whole truth."
"Knows more of the truth than I do."
"You know everything. Now."
"If I hadn't come back that day, would you have told me?" He doesn't answer. "I didn't think so."
"Please listen to me," Roman's voice waivers. He takes a seat on the empty chair and covers his mouth with his hand while he thinks.
"Okay," she concedes.
"I didn't want anyone to know anything. Anything at all. Not about me, not about the baby, not about Olivia." Roman bites his lip and looks up from his seat. "If I had you would have been the first person I told. Probably the only person I'd have to tell. Miranda finding out about the baby was an accident. She just wandered her way in and-"
"Then why is she still there?"
"Because she... She has a special connection with the baby."
"Special connection?" Emma snorts.
"It's hard to explain."
"You keep saying that, but I don't think it is. It's not hard to tell the truth."
"The truth is strange," he counters.
"Don't I know that?" He chuckles at that but she only stays serious.
"I suppose," Roman says while covering his mouth again. "It's just a lot... And the baby... That's hard to explain to anyone. I'm terrified of what I'm supposed to tell Peter. He'll find out eventually."
"Tell him the truth?" She suggests. Some part of her finds it pathetic that here she is, hurt- both physically and emotionally, and she's trying to help him. Trying to make things easier on him. He should be tending to her, she thinks. "Tell him what you wouldn't tell me." Roman's face drops quickly.
"I already said I'm sorry," he says. "What more do you want?"
"I want you to mean it," Emma says as if it's obvious. "I want you to mean it, and I want to stop with this petty fighting bullshit. I don't want to live in this cycle that you keep pulling me back into?"
"What cycle am I pulling you into?" He asks.
"This- this constant half-in and half-out of my life thing. Everything's fine for a while, and then suddenly you're in a mood or something and you're gone and I don't know when you're coming back- If you're coming back. I've been worried sick about you for months, but there was nothing wrong. You just wanted to hide this from me."
"I'm sorry," he reiterates.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I explained that I didn't want anyone to-"
"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Emma interrupts him. "I would have told you if I was seeing someone. I'd want you to know."
"Are you?" He asks a bit too calmly. "Are you seeing someone?"
"Don't turn this around on me. This is about you."
"So you are," he leans forward a bit. "Good for you." He pats her leg. "Who's the lucky guy?" Emma stays straight-faced and doesn't answer. "Or lucky girl?"
"Quit deflecting," she says with a quivering lip. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Why wouldn't it?"
"Because it doesn't really involve you, does it? You're here, I'm three hours away. It just got away from me. A week turned into two..."
"And two turned into a month of avoiding me because you didn't want me to know."
"Emma." He doesn't have a good lie to tell.
"Saying my name isn't a response." She slams the spoon down, giving up. "If you didn't want me around all you had to do was say so."
"That's not what-" He blinks hard to prevent an eye roll. "I don't see why it's such a big deal. Miranda is the least significant part of this."
"Exactly. This is something incredibly normal that you didn't want me to know about. If it's not a big deal then why wouldn't you tell me?"
"Because I don't even understand what is happening." His voice momentarily softens before becoming stern again. "And to be honest, Em, I don't feel like you're telling me everything either."
"What do you think I'm not telling you?"
"Why does this bother you so much?"
"I've already told you-" She starts.
"I don't think that's all." Roman stands from his seat. He doesn't have to complete his thought for her to know what he's thinking.
"Oh, fuck you," she calls out as he leaves.
"You know," he pauses before continuing to the door. "For someone who says they're sick of fighting, you really know how to pick a fight."
........
The next morning she wakes up the same sterile smell she fell asleep with. She's sedated for the majority of the morning. When she wakes back up she has a nice hard cast on her right arm that's a nice dark blue.
She eats her bowl of macaroni mush for lunch and watches basic cable. She's not even sure where her phone is but doesn't have much of a desire to contact anyone. The University would have contacted Jules and from there it would spread like fire. She was fine, anyways.
Later into the afternoon, a knock hits sharply on the door. Kay, who had nodded off a bit, jumps. Emma sits up, hoping it's her doctor there with discharge papers. She frowns when a man enters instead. He's not with the hospital or the university, that much she can tell.
He smiles at Kay as he enters. He's young, almost too young. Both of the women look him over quickly with curiosity and distrust. He wears street clothing. Kay looks to Emma for some clue as to who he might be, a friend, perhaps? Emma doesn't meet her look.
"Hi, Ms. Parker. I'm Detective Finn Stewart," the man greets her. He turns to shake Kay's hand which she hesitantly returns. "I have a couple of questions I'd like to ask. In private."
"I already gave my statement to the police," Emma says sternly. This guy didn't look like anyone official.
"I'm not with the police. I'm from the Office of Public Health Preparedness and Response in Washington." He pulls his badge from his pocket as if he could sense she didn't believe him.
"My daughter has already given a state-"
"Mom." Emma puts her good hand up. "It's okay. I'll answer his questions." Kay meets her eyes for assurance and leaves with a nod. When the door is shut, he moves to pull the shades down.
"Mind if I take a seat?" She shrugs. He casually pulls the chair closer to the bed and sits with one leg crossed over the other. "How are you feeling?" He asks and he retrieves a small notepad from his jacket pocket.
"Cut the bullshit," she responds sharply. "The last time someone from a random government agency came around some really weird shit went down. Who are you?"
"I'm Detective Finn Stewart," he tells her again. "I'm investigating a string of strange events that have been happening in the North-Eastern region of the country. You're from Hemlock Grove, correct?"
"Yes."
"So, I'm assuming the last agency you interacted with was Fish and Wildlife?" Emma nods suspiciously. "That's a very.... different agency than the one I work for," Detective Stewart chuckles.
"How so?"
"I'm not," he leans in and lowers his voice. "I'm not looking for any wildlife. The things I'm investigating are very human."
"The officer from Fish and Wildlife wasn't looking for wildlife either. What makes you different?"
"I'm not an officer," he corrects her with a smirk. "I'm a detective."
"You said you had questions?" She hurries him along.
"Yes." His smirk drops into a forced smile. "I have the statement you gave the police, but there are a few things I'd like you to fill me in on."
"Like?"
"Are you aware there is no one by the name Liza Merrit attending UPenn?" This catches Emma's attention. "There's an Elizabeth Merrit, but she goes by Liz and is Ph.D. student. Plus, she's 47. I don't suppose you hang around with 47-year-olds."
"Not unless she looks really good for her age," Emma mumbles and gets a single chuckle as a response.
"If I've found that out, the University won't be too far behind," he says. "They'll want a better description from you. Contact info..."
"She could have gone by a nickname? Maybe, I don't know."
"Possibly," the detective says. "But, it's important that I get that information before they start digging."
"Why?"
"As I said, I'm investigating several different events. I need profiles of everyone involved. Do you have any photos of your friend?"
"No."
"No social media accounts?" He asks.
"I don't really use social media that much," she explains. "Why does it matter? She wasn't there when I fell."
"Did the officers tell you anything about how you were found?" He asks abruptly.
"Just that I had slipped and was at the bottom of the stairs."
"Three stairs is a fairly short fall for this much damage."
"I had been drinking quite a bit," she admits.
"I'm aware. Did you know there was a trail in the snow behind you? As though you had been pulled forward by your feet."
"I only know what they told me."
"There was also vomit about three yards behind you. Any memory of that?" She says nothing. "Is there anything you remember that you didn't share with the officers?"
"No," Emma thinks. "I don't remember much. I- I just can hear a sound. It's hard to describe."
"What kind of sound? A voice?"
"No." She shakes her head and twitches when it rings in her head. "Just a ringing."
"Interesting."
"Is there something you know that I don't? That they don't?"
"Have they not shown you the back of your head?" Emma doesn't answer. "Here," he says handing her his phone. Scrolling through the photos she recognizes the color of her hair illuminated by the cameras flash. Instead of one injury like she had expected, there is a mess of hair covering up several. "They took those as soon as you arrived. Looks a little violent for a fall, don't you think?"
"I don't know."
"You see, based on this photo, there are at least three different areas of impact."
"So?"
"One slip on ice would only equate to one injury. Why are there three?"
"I don't know, I'm not a doctor," she spits at him.
"I don't think you slipped, and I think your doctor would agree with me." The detective takes his phone back from her hands. "It's a disaster of a crime scene, really. Whoever did this did a pretty sloppy job? Don't you think?"
"Then what happened?" She asks. "I wasn't robbed, I wasn't raped. I just have a broken arm and a couple of stitches. It sounds like an accident to me."
"Exactly. Everyone thinks it's an accident, don't they? Everyone but me," he explains. "It's pretty obvious to me that this was supposed to look like an accident. Emphasis on the supposed to part. Because it's also obvious to me that it's not."
The detective scoots closer to her bed and grabs her napkin from lunch. With his pen, he begins drawing a rough sketch of the area around the staircase. "Here," he says and draws an X. "Is where you were found. Way over here," he draws another. "Is where we found vomit. Here are where there were very minute disturbances in the snow. There were no footprints found, but the snow was disturbed in a few other areas."
"This is the result of incredibly poor planning," the detective concludes.
"What are you investigating?" She asks. "You said there was a string of similar events. Were they the same?"
"They were similar," he says. "A month ago there was a boy in Michigan that was hit by a car when walking home from school. They haven't been found, but the police think it's a hit and run. The car slid on black ice. The last investigation I did was in the eastern part of Ohio. A kid fell through an ice sheet on a pond."
"The ice? Is that it?" She asks with some judgment. "You're making connections based on ice-related accidents."
"No," the detective says seriously. "I'm making connections based on deaths that looked like accidents."
Emma licks her dry lips ass her stomach drops. There's no way he could make any connections based on the limited information he has. It made no sense. "So you think someone wants to kill me?"
"Not wants, tried. I'm not sure what got you in the middle of all this, but I would advise you to stay away from any... Any abnormal people or events," he cautions.
Fun fact about Elia time: When I was a kid I played baseball and got hit in the head with the bat without a helmet on. I can still hear the noise and it makes me gag lol.Also, yes, yes I did create an OC specifically based on Cody ferns aesthetic. I don't even watch American Horror Story, but I can't help it, I love him.Thank you all for reading and for all your support!!! And thank you for being understanding when it takes forever for me to get a chapter out lol. I promise that were will be at least one update per week unless I give you a heads up otherwise!Last but not least- I'm still working on that drabble and I'll make sure to let you know when it's posted!