Heather's eyes were half-closed as she was rushed into the hospital. She tried to keep them open, afraid that if she closed them, she might not wake up again. She struggled to keep them open, her mind fighting against the overwhelming urge to give in to the darkness.
The sharp pain radiating from her stomach felt like it was draining every ounce of energy she had. Fear gripped her chest...this couldn't be it, could it? She wasn't ready to leave, not yet. Not . The bright lights of the ER blurred everything, and she could barely make out the faces of the people working around her.
The voices around her were muffled, like they were coming from the other end of a tunnel.
"Stay with us," what seemed to look like a nurse, said.
"The IV fluids, now," what seemed to look like a doctor said to the nurse. His voice was steady. "Get the ultrasound machine. Get me the crash cart. There's too much blood, prepare the syringe."
Heather felt a sharp sting as they injected her arm. She wanted to fight the heaviness in her eyelids, but it was too much.
"You're doing great," the nurse assured. "Just keep holding on. You're strong."
Heather tried to respond, but her lips wouldn't move.
"It's okay," the nurse reassured her gently. "Just close your eyes and rest."
Heather woke up to the sound of beeping machines filling her ears. The heart monitor rhythmically echoed, the sounds were oddly comforting yet clinical. She opened her eyes slowly, the fluorescent light above made her squint. Her whole body felt heavy, and she couldn't move. She laid there, staring at the ceiling. There was no pain, just a dull numbing void that extended both inside and out.
Images of her fall replayed in her head like a bad dream. The fall, the steps, the impact. She squeezed her eyes, trying to block out the memory, but her thoughts jumped to one thing...her baby.
The door opened, and a nurse came in. She walked over to check the IV drip and made a few adjustments. She checked the heart monitor and scribbled on the clipboard in her hand.
The nurse quickly turned to her, smiling. "You're awake. Your family are here. They're just across the room," she paused, "They said you were so drunk, you tripped"
Heather couldn't recall drinking at all at the party. Her memories were hazy.
"But anyway, you're going to be okay, "madam"," she said.
Madam? Heather wanted to laugh, or at least roll her eyes. But even that took too much effort. She must have looked like she aged ten years from all the stress. Heather tried to speak, but her voice was too weak. She barely managed to mumble something.
"I know you feel weak. That's from the anesthesia, but don't worry, you'll regain your strength. Just rest for now." She placed a small button near Heather's hand. "If you need anything, press this, and I'll come. I'll check on you later." The nurse smiled again but avoided looking Heather in the eyes.
Her hand hesitated on the door handle before she turned back, 'I...I just wanted to say, I'm a huge fan of yours! I love all your movies," she gushed, her face flushed. "Should I leave the door open for you?"
Heather blinked to signal yes, and the nurse left, leaving the door opened slightly.
Heather sighed weakly. She had nothing to do, and she felt too tired to move. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for something to distract her from her thoughts.
"How're you feeling?"
Heather's body stiffened. That voice. She'd recognize it anywhere. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on the open doorway. Across the hall, she saw her. Lauren.
She didn't trip. It wasn't an accident. She was pushed. Lauren pushed her. Seeing Lauren made her remember everything.
Lauren was standing there, talking to someone.
Her hands trembled while she tried to get a better look at the person Lauren was talking to, but she slipped off the bed and fell to the floor. The IV line ripped out of her arm. She couldn't feel anything when she hit the cold floor. But she grunted. It's only normal to express pain even when you don't feel it.
Heather just laid there helplessly, hoping and praying someone would notice her.
Then she remembered the button the nurse had left her. She rolled onto her back, but she couldn't stretch toward the bed. It was too high to reach. She closed her eyes in frustration. A drop of tears slipped out as she laid there.
"What's this?" The voice sounded cold and detached.
He walked closer, standing over her. "Why are you on the floor?" His voice sounded calm but indifferent.
Heather didn't respond. She just stared at him. Then he leaned down and picked her up effortlessly, placing her back on the bed. Her body felt like a rag doll in his arms.
Once she was settled, he looked her over. His eyes glanced at the fresh scars from her fall. His face remained blank. Showing no emotion at all.
It seemed like he wanted to say something, but didn't. He turned and left the room.