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My eyes ripped open and I panted for air. I stared up at a popcorn ceiling, listening as the sounds of beeping machines dawned on my ears. The smell of disinfectant filled my lungs. With every breath I took, it rooted me to the most uncomfortable bed I’d ever slept on. And as I licked my chapped lips, it confirmed my theories.
I was in a hospital. In a bed. Staring up at my room’s ceiling.
It was silent. A silence I didn’t expect to get. Where was Rae? She promised me she wouldn’t leave me alone through all this. Wasn’t she supposed to be here? Was she all right? Had something happened on the journey to the hospital?
Wait, what day was it? What time was it? Maybe she was simply at home, sleeping. I mean, I didn't know how long I’d been out. How long I’d been dreaming.
I reached my hand out, hoping Rae was there to take it. Maybe she was preoccupied. Or she was speaking and I simply couldn't hear it. I tried moving my neck, but couldn't. I tried darting my eyes around, but they moved too slowly. My body felt lighter than air. I wiggled my toes, and even tried bending my knees. There wasn’t any pain. But there wasn’t any feeling either. And as my eyes fell onto the morphine drip, that answered my questions.
Shit. I was still drugged to the high heavens.
A hand slipped into mine, but I didn’t recognize it. It was soft, but not necessarily warm. Not like Rae’s. Or my mother’s. I felt ring bands against my skin, nails softly scratching up my arm. I grimaced at the feeling and it quickly stopped, and that movement told me who it was.
“Welcome back, hun. How are you feeling?”
Cecilia.
My stepmother was in the room.
My eyes lobbed over as her chair scooted across the floor. She came into view, her hand still holding mine. I heard the clicking of her manicured nails, the scraping of her Louis Vuitton heels against the floor. Even in the hospital, her hair was perfect. The perfect face of makeup. Contoured with precision and glistening against the expensive diamonds my father showered her with. Her clothes were designer, in the middle of the fucking night. Just like my father always wanted with his women.
Wait, it was still the middle of the night, right?
Cecilia didn’t say anything, so I didn’t strike up a conversation. Because while it was nice having her there, I was still disappointed that she wasn’t Rae. Where was she? Had my father scared her off? Holy fuck, if my father had scared that girl off, he’d be dead.
Once I could get out of this hospital bed.
My eyes slowly panned back up to the ceiling. Cecilia kept a grip on my hand, her grip growing stronger every minute that passed by. It didn’t shock me one bit that my father hadn’t surfaced yet. He was probably at work, doing some shit. Or taking work phone calls. Or booking their next vacation getaway.
You know, doing more important shit than tending to his son.
“Where’s Rae?”
Cecilia sighed, and it gave me all the answer I needed. I felt my blood boiling. My fucking father with his fucking antics. The beeping machines around me began spiking. Cecilia gasped as she stood up from her chair. She leaned over me, her hair curtaining us off from the rest of the world. I heard something beeping close to my ear before something warm dripped through my system, making me feel like I was damn near peeing myself.
“Is everything okay in here?”
“What happened? Why did he spike?”
“Let me check his vitals.”
Cecilia sighed. “I’ve already pressed the morphine button. Just give him a second. He’s a strong boy. Stronger than he should be.”
There was a sadness to the last part of that phrase. That last little sentence she tacked on there. I felt my eyes growing heavy as the drugs rushed my system. They settled my heartrate and my blood pressure back down. Nurses poked and prodded. They shone more lights in my eyes. One of them set themselves to the task of changing out my I.V. bag while another tugged on something that made my dick jump.
Shit. I had a catheter in.
Fucking grand.
“It’s okay. I’m right here, sweetheart. Can you still hear me?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, Cecilia. I can hear you.”
“Good. The nurses want you to stay awake through this morphine rush. So try to keep talking to me. What do you want to talk about?”
I want to talk about what the fuck my father said or did to Rae.
But, I settled on a better question. One that still required an answer.
