"It's just a flesh wound"

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Annette P.O.V.

          I feel my self coming to consciousness and can only register a few things because my mind felt as if coming out of a fog. My head is the most prominent pain and it is throbbing almost to the beat of my heart that I could somehow hear close by. The crease in my elbow itched a lot, my knee felt as if I had tried to saw it off, my stomach ached, and my throat felt as dry as the Sahara. But, for the life of me I can’t muster enough energy to open my eyes.

          I could hear, not only the constant beep of a machine from next to me, but also an unpleasant dripping sound right next to my ear. I hear shuffling of feet from far away and a slight whispering to my left.

          But, it is the smell that sends me into a frenzy. As the putrid stench of disinfectant and death wafts through my nostrils, an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu overcomes me.

          The hospital. I was in the hospital…I think there was an accident. My head continues to pound as I try to remember something that I feel to be vitally important. All I can remember is the sound of rubber screeching against cement and glass breaking. There was someone else in the car, and then we hit something and…Familiar, scruffy blonde hair and puppy dog brown eyes flash through my head and my mind swirls into panic.

          “Charlie! Where’s Charlie? Charlie!” I squeeze through my dry throat, my voice coming out croaky and foreign. I manage to pry open my eyes, only to be met with harsh fluorescent lights and blinding white walls. I try to sit up in the lumpy bed, but the pain in my head has my mind reeling and I feel a hand press me back onto the bed.

          “Is Charlie okay? I think he might be stuck...” I choke, as the image of his body floating in the water flashes through my head, “He was supposed to be right behind me… He… He’s okay right?” I ask to whoever will listen, my words sounding strangled through my sobs. I pry open my eyes again and search for the owner of the hand on my shoulder, only to meet the dark eyes of my mother.

          With her face so close to me, I am able to make out all of the wrinkles she has started to grow in the last few years and how her once happy face has morphed into the face of a woman who had witnessed too much loss to last a lifetime. Dark shadows under her eyes, and her worried eyes themselves, somehow have me crashing back to reality.

          “Honey, calm down. It’s okay, you’re okay now.” The softness of her voice shocks me and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel her smooth down my knotted hair; like she always used to.

          Charlie’s face slips from my vision, and I suddenly remember the dog in the road, Adam dodging it, the telephone pole, smoke, and blood...

          It feels as if I am waking from a dream, a dream that wasn’t so much a dream, but a memory. My head continues to pulsate and my hand starts to shake as I have to bring myself back from reliving the worst day of my life.

          Charlie is dead. Charlie is dead. Charlie has been dead.

          Tears continue to flow from my eyes and my mother’s hand never ceases as I have to convince myself that what I just felt and experienced was only a flashback. That horrible accident was over two years ago.

 I look down at my body to survey the damage and notice that my knee has been wrapped in a brace, my cheek has an ugly looking Band-Aid across it, and thick gauze is wrapped around my head like a vice.

          “There was an accident and you’re pretty beat up, but you’re okay. You will be okay.” Cynthia’s voice is thick and it sounds as if she has been crying, but she lets go of my head and moves to sit at the chair next to my bed. I watch her as the memories from the accident slowly recover in my brain and then my eyes go wide in panic. And it really does feel like two years ago all over again.

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