JAMES
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
My eyes snapped open while a shallow breath escaped me. The edges of my vision was crowded with darkness I couldn't see through. I was looking through a narrow, unlit tunnel, the end of which was so bright it was painful to stare at.
Breathing deeply through my nose, the biting smell of rubbing alcohol rolled up my nostrils and down my trachea. I practiced opening my eyes several times before they adjusted to the light. After a few minutes of focused breathing, I could finally see the room around me.
A window concealed behind long, vertical blinds was cut into the wall to my left. My eyes slowly traversed to the wall directly ahead of me, which featured a table with glass jars and metal instruments. Above the table was a motivational poster.
Believe In Yourself
My head turned to view the right side of the room. Directly beside me stood a glowing monitor screen tracking my vitals. As I stared uncomprehendingly at the digits, the numbers escalated and the chirps came faster.
Sharp pain sprouted between my temples. Grimacing, I found a memory painted in the darkness behind my eyelids.
My sister lying between thin, white sheets, her skin pale and eyes flat. A styrofoam plate with gray mush and pink jello. The shiny white band around her bony wrist.
I groaned at the discomfort incited by the memory.
"Glad to see you're awake," spoke a voice.
Jumping in surprise, my eyes flew open. A middle-aged man in dark green medical scrubs stood to my right. He reached over to the lamp on the bedside table and flipped on its light. I tried not to shrink away from the illumination.
"Do you remember why you're here, James?" he asked.
I stared at the man while scrambling my brain. Was I supposed to know who this was?
The sharp pang in my head struck again, and this time I couldn't fight the flinch.
"Are you in pain?" the man asked. He tapped on the monitor and checked the various tubes sticking out of me.
Clearing my throat, I opened my eyes and managed a raspy, "Where am I injured?"
He paused to examine my face. My stomach rolled.
"Your legs and lower back suffered the most," he told me.
My breath caught in my throat. I instantly assumed the worst—that I would never be able to use my legs again; my back was broken and I was paralyzed; or, perhaps I lost an eye or an ear or had some debilitating deformity.
"Our surgeon team restored the tissues where they could," he went on. "You will be able to return to normal soon enough, but a leave of rest is in order. We can't risk you ripping stitches or tearing any more tendons."
"Normal?" I asked, my voice a whisper.
"Yes. You can return to work in a few weeks." The man tapped on the monitor a few more times and then pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. "How are you feeling, James?"
"Nauseous," I said. "Tired."
Talking triggered more pain in my skull, so I closed my eyes and focused on my breaths. Fatigue pulled at my weak body and mind. I could feel myself slipping away again.
"That's to be expected," the man said. "I'm going to sedate you for a few more hours." His words were fading away. "I'm sure by then your visitors will be back and we'll have a nice, warm meal waiting . . ."
—(—)—
My dreams were filled with the most horrible suffering, the most agonizing pain that a physical being could experience. It was a combination of burning flesh, nerves ripping apart, teeth tearing through muscle, and claws shattering bone.
Is this death?
I woke to a pleasant warmth in my hand. The feeling comforted my tense body as I gradually blinked the sleep and fear away.
A slant of sunlight and the glaring fluorescent beams in the ceiling above illuminated the small room. My head lazily dragged toward the source of warmth until I saw a delicate, freckled hand laced with mine. My gaze traced the rounded, pink nailbeds up to dented knuckles, a small wrist and soft forearm dusted in short blonde hairs.
The pain was traded for something brighter, warmer. I drew my gaze up to a pointed chin and rosy, bitten lips. Her long, light brown eyelashes lay flat against her freckled cheekbones. A careless blonde bun leaned precariously over the side of her head, its elastic ever slowly slipping from the silky gold threads.
A soft puff emanated from between her pouty lips. My fingers curled more tightly around hers on reflex while I fought the urge to pull her into my lap. I wanted to hold her against me, let her warm body and calming essence penetrate me.
Leah's face snapped up. Her hazel eyes were greener than usual and enshrouded in red lines. Her pupils widened as our gazes held. A smile broke out across her face and tears shimmered in her eyes. She jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around me.
"You're awake! Oh, my god!" she shrieked. She pulled back to look me over and I missed her arms around me, her sweet perfume in my nostrils. "Are you okay? Nevermind, stupid question. How are you feeling? Should I get the nurse? Are you hungry? Thirst—"
I gently squeezed her palm to quiet her. "I'm fine. Slow down and breathe, okay?"
Her smile turned watery. "Sorry. I'm just so . . . I was really worried about you."
"I can tell," I said with a small smirk.
She wet her lips and blushed when she caught my blatant stare. "I should probably go get the nurse," she said, moving to pull away.
My grip tightened on her hand as I held her in place. "No. Stay."
"Okay," she relented, leaning her chin on her free hand.
We gazed openly at one another, no distractions or words in our way. It felt as though we were naked and alone, surrounded by only our feelings and thoughts for one another. I could see the concern and care for me in her face.
"Julia called me after it happened," she said. "She was losing her mind over you."
"Can't blame her," I coughed. "I wouldn't want to be left alone with our parents either."
Leah rolled her eyes. "I've never seen siblings care so much for each other. Kinda makes me jealous."
I arched a brow, suddenly awake. "Jealous of me and my sister? Kinda pervy of you, Leah."
She gasped and swatted at me. "That's disgusting. You know what I meant! I'm an only child. I always wanted a sibling but it just didn't work out for my parents."
"You can have mine," I grumbled.
"You're ridiculous." Shaking her head, she stroked my knuckles with her free handle. The innocent gesture felt so intimate coming from her. I felt fucking butterflies.
I cleared my throat. "So, how long have I been here?"
She sighed, her eyes lingering on our hands. "Four days."
Bile flooded my throat. I covered my mouth and tilted my head back until the burning bile returned to my stomach. My breathing turned harsh.
Four days of my life had been lost. Four days I could never get back.
Memories of what happened started seeping back in. The ragged rounds of my breathing, the grunting and huffing of an ensuring predator. The fear of feeling chased. A black bear three times my size.
I tried my best, but it wasn't good enough. I didn't make it. She caught me and flayed me.
The pain seared through me like it was happening all over again. Hissing, I threw my head back and tried to fight the agony through gritted teeth.
"Nurse!" Leah screamed. "Someone help! Help!"
Cool hands fluttered up my arms, around my face.
"It's okay, James," she cooed through her tears. "You're alright. The doctor's here."
My body shook and rattled violently as the trauma continued to unfold. I had no control over my body or mind. I was trapped here in my skin with no way out.
Some amount of time past before I came to again. Leah was sleeping in the chair again, curled into a ball. That couldn't be comfortable.
The door to the room opened and a petite woman in scrubs entered. She smiled at seeing me awake and walked over with a computer tablet cradled in her arms.
"James, hi," she greeted me in a quiet voice.
I was grateful since my migraine was back and any noises were liable to make it worse.
"How are you feeling?" the woman asked.
With a long breath, I nodded. "Better."
"Very good." She glanced over the monitor and tapped away on her tablet screen. "You had a panic attack, but your body is doing well."
"How long was I out this time?"
"Just a few hours."
I nodded while that processed. Movement from the chair caught my attention. Leah sat up, yawning and stretching. She jumped to her feet when she realized I was awake.
"You're awake," she said, her voice subdued.
"Easy now," the woman warned her. "We don't want to trigger another attack. He needs to rest."
Leah nodded and sat back down. I frowned at that and noticed the exhaustion underlying her eyes. Before I could speak, a tall, gaunt older man strode into the room.
"Good to have you cognizant," he said, eyes flashing up to me. He took the tablet offered to him by the woman. "I'm Doctor Durante. How are you feeling, James?"
"Slight headache, but better than earlier," I told him.
"We can fix that," he assured me with a smile.
The next few minutes were spent checking my motor responses and vitals. I could still hear and see and my limbs had full motion. While I could do everything, there was a lot of stiffness that hurt to push. After prescribing me a sizeable portion of pain pills, the good doctor signed my discharge papers.
"Wheelchair only," he said sternly as he looked between me and Leah. "Leah here has explained the living situation and has promised to take excellent care of you. No running for at least a month. Physical therapy three times a week for the first two weeks, then we'll lean off as you improve."
"Understood," I said, glancing at Leah. She offered a soft smile.
Dr. Durante leaned down so we were at eye level "The only way to heal is by resting," he said, as though he was scolding a child. "From what Leah told me, you aren't the resting type. But if you ever want to run again, you need to let those tendons and tissue heal."
"Got it." I blew out a sigh.
"Good." He stood up and clapped his papery palms together. "Let's get you out of here."
As soon as he and the nurse left, Leah reclaimed my hand in hers. I could tell she wanted to ask how I was feeling but I had nothing more to say on that account.
"Does this mean you have to wipe my ass?" I asked her.
She chuckled once, enchanting me with its sound. "No," she said as she rolled her eyes, "but I do have to make sure you can get from your wheelchair to the toilet without hurting yourself."
"Hmm. I supposed I can accept that."
Leah was quiet for a moment before squeezing my hand. "James?"
My eyes felt heavy and I suddenly wanted to sleep again. The doctor had warned me that the pain meds would make me sluggish.
"Yes, darling?" I said.
"I'm glad you're alive," she whispered. "Like, really glad."
I squeezed her hand back. "Me, too."
If only she knew that she was the reason I was alive.
The doctor returned with a wheelchair and a wide smile. "Here's your new legs for the next few weeks," he said. "Good luck, son."