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The nurse gives me water and I try to sip the liquid, moistening my throat. It seems like I haven’t used my voice for a while. I clear my throat a few times and try again. This time, the words come out, like from a broken box.
“I think the day I spent with the family. They came all to the decorating party, brought kids.” I try to grasp what happened next, but besides me talking with Leif about his love life and thinking about reconnecting with my mum and dad, there is an empty gap. Hollowness.
I look up at her, silently asking her to tell me the truth.
“Do you remember how you got here or what happened to cause you end up in the hospital?”
Racking my brain, I still can’t seem to make any sense. I shake my head, trying to get rid of a headache.
“Headaches are very common after experiencing brain trauma. Here, let me give you a dose of painkillers.” She presses the button, and the pain begins to numb.
“What happened to me?” I feel drowsy, tired.
“We believe that we should give you time to remember on your own. You’ve experienced many injuries and a shock to your system. Let’s wait for a while and see how your brain responds. You have a broken skull and numerous other bones, ribs, and arms shattered in few places. Also, you have many bruises and wounds. We performed few operations on your face, and you’ve been in a coma for over twelve weeks. You are a wonderful miracle, Cassandra. Now rest, the family will be informed shortly.”
The nurse brings the syringe, and injects a substance into the drip. The scene of the room disappears, and I am again falling into the abyss. The nothingness envelopes my senses, cradling me like a baby in a warm blanket. Then someone’s lips brush against my forehead and I surrender, not knowing if the truth is going to be ruthless.
Gradually, I begin to hear voices whispering, annoying my aching head. I wake up again with a frustrated sigh. Inhaling and exhaling the air into my lungs, I open my eyes. My mum is the first to run to the bed with tearful eyes.
She looks at me, whispering my name, and her lips quiver as she squeezes my hand. Her face full of shadows and her gaze is empty, ashen with sorrow, watches me with so much love and... Is that pity?
I don’t rush to talk to her or acknowledge her in any other way. She tells me my kids are ok and they’re now walking. She babbles so fast, as if she is afraid that if I close my eyes, it will be forever. So, I let her, watching her pale face tinted with emotions.
My mother gets more and more upset as she tells me about my kids. I become so tired of her rushing words that my mind starts to spin and twirl like a hurricane, until the darkness draws me back with its warm hands, and I fall back to sleep.
When I wake up again, this time, Aisha is singing a lullaby to my girl. I watch my sister with Liane, reading the book, singing every word to her. Liane listens to her in wonder. My daughter looks older, her hair much lighter when before. And I swear her eyes are changing into beautiful green jewels too. When she finds me staring, her face transforms, eyes sparkling. I smile with love at my beautiful daughter.
“Ma-ma…” she says, lifting her palms towards me, repeating syllables again. Aisha locks her blue eyes on mine with some strange emotion passing too quickly to catch.
“Hi, you’re awake!” She brings Liane close to me, letting my girl crawl up to me like a kitten and she curls up beside me. Spooning my little girl, I kiss her head.
“Are you in pain?” Aisha asks me, concern lacing her tone, as she removes my active daughter from my embrace. “If you are, you can press that button here, and the pain will go away.”
For some reason, I want to feel the pain. I need it to stay sharp, since my mind feels foggy and thoughts fall through the gaps. I’m missing something or someone. The pressure gathering in my brain makes it impossible to remember. For now, I admit defeat. Instead, I watch my girl play with my sister and talk to me, but then she starts to wail.
Everything starts to spin and ache, and my breathing becomes labored. Aisha presses the button for the nurse, and before she comes, I feel like I’m falling back again. After so long living with my nightmares, the silent darkness is comfortable space. The nest made for me to rest and get stronger.
His face emerges from the fog above me. Looking down at me, he tries to talk, but I can’t hear him. I smile at him, whispering his beloved name, as the darkness claims me again. This time, I hold his name close to my heart, feeling loved and content. Curling into a ball, I keep my hands over my heart. I feel it shroud me in the warmth, healing my fragile body and mind.
We will be together again.
Sometime later, Leon’s voice draws me back to reality. My eyes snap open, and I find him pulling at my covers as he stands on his two feet, bouncing, insisting on waking me up. I smile and try to talk, but my throat is too dry.
“Let me help you.” I turn to see Lucas, unshaven and with overgrown hair, bending to pick up Leon. Something is wrong with him. He’s avoiding my direct gaze, his face lacking color and the warmth I’m used to.
Marine helps me raise the bed, and he passes me a glass of water. Wordlessly, he hands Leon over to me, smiling sadly at my son. Leon fists the hospital shirt, pressing his little chest against me. My little boy’s giving me a hug, and the emotions are coiling inside me, ready to burst free.
Calmly, I stroke his hair, and I whisper how much I love him. Lucas tries to hold my son off me, who is trying to get even closer. Although I suffered from many injuries that still need to heal, I don’t feel a single one of them. I’m too numb from the drugs they’re giving me, too confused to understand what happened to me.
“How did I get here, Lucas? What happened?” He doesn’t meet my eyes, as he pretends to be busy with my son. “Talk to me, please.”
Lucas stays silent, his lips pressed in tight line, refusing to tell me.
“Lucas?” He blinks, hearing my voice break, and clears his throat, clutching onto my son as if he can shield him. He peeks at me, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He repeats what the doctor already told me.
“Wait until you remember, Cassandra. Rest. You’re still healing, you need time.”
He sits next to me, a silent presence, giving comfort or taking his. He’s looking after my son, who is trying to climb and grab everything in his way. A lone tear trails down his cheek, but he stays silent, unmoving. I grab a book from the nightstand and start to read to Leon, who finally settles.
