Almost Dead (Blackwell Academy Book 1) Read online

  I was able to move my arm over and pushed the nurses' button. I tried to do everything I could not to bother my parents. They were snuggled in the corner on one little cot, fast asleep.

  There was that heaviness again, thump thump thump played the guilt of my heart. Would I feel like this forever?

  Nurse Monica walked into the room with a huge grin. She was the nurse on call for the night. She was close to my age which I was really shocked about. Young people weren't seen often working in the hospital. She had long, red hair and a sweet, loving voice.

  "Anastasia, what can I do for you?" She was quiet so we didn't wake up my parents.

  During my accident, I had broken several bones. My ribs had punctured my right lung. Seems the doctors had taken great care to put me back together.

  Great, now I sounded like Humpty Dumpty. I chuckled at my own personal joke and had to grab my side. I didn't like to speak too much because of the pain in my throat from the tube and the pain in my side and from my inflated lung and broken ribs.

  "Hurt," the squeak out of my mouth was pathetic. Thankfully, she understood what I needed and went to collect my chart. Monica returned a short while later with her med cart and my chart. Is this what a crackhead felt like, I wondered. The excitement at seeing her with her little cart should not have given me joy, but it did. It should have made me feel ashamed, but it didn't.

  I slowly turned my head over to watch my parents as they slept. How long had they been here? It was time that I got some questions answered. I didn’t want to bother my parents, so when Nurse Monica walked back into the room, I made my decision to talk to her.

  “How long?" my raspy voice didn't even sound like my own. I guess that was appropriate because my body didn't feel like my own. The only thing at the moment that felt like me was the private editorial that I had in my brain.

  "Are you asking how long you've been here, sweetie?"

  "Yes," came my squeaky reply.

  "You were brought in by ambulance seven days ago. When the paramedics arrived on the scene, you weren't breathing nor was your heart beating. They had to shock you to bring you back, sweetheart. It was touch and go for you and your boyfriend."

  "Michael." Maybe talking and crying at the same time wasn't good for me right now. Just saying his name caused a coughing fit.

  "Yes, sweetheart, Michael," Monica said as she patted my back gently. I felt like a big baby, but she made me feel good. When a ribbon of purple settled around Monica I was okay.

  "As long as you're doing better, we will take you down to see him, okay? Would you like that?"

  At the moment I was overwhelmed with emotion, so I didn't know what I felt. I just didn’t answer her. Monica was either respectful or oblivious. She didn't even look at me when I remained quiet.

  Our conversation kept me and Monica busy. She administered more medicine and answered my questions happily. I felt a drop in my energy, oh wait, no, that was the medicine. Just before I fell all the way asleep, I noticed a man standing in the corner. He was an older gentleman, and he had to be in his sixties. He was standing there in one of those polo shirts, a pair of khaki shorts, and tennis shoes. His socks were pulled all the way up to his knees, and I giggled. His stare was intense, and his eyes did not move off of me. The odd thing was, I felt no fear.

  I fell asleep easily just to have a restless sleep. In my dream, the man I saw followed me. He never spoke, and he never walked towards me. He just stared me down. My emotional ribbon went from being a glorious rainbow to nothing. It was drab and lifeless. In my dream, my feet picked up speed. He was old, and there was no way he could keep up. Was I wrong! No matter where I went, his lifeless, grey eyes observed me.

  I fell crossing a vibrant field of violets. I laid there in shock and looked around.

  "Get up, stupid!" I began to shout at myself, and then the tears came. This week had just been too much to handle. I laid there until his white, wrinkly hand reached out to help me up. Unbelievable! This man had chased me around saying nothing but just staring at me, and now he wanted to make contact?

  His nails had yellowed from age, and his skin was paper-thin.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and took his hand in mine. The texture of the hand changed, and so did the grip. My eyes popped open, and my mouth followed. Gone was the wrinkly old man, and in his place was a vibrant, thriving, sexy, young man. His grey eyes were knowing and playful. He had a head full of curly, dark hair. Yep, it was official, I had lost my damn mind. I must have hit my head harder than I thought in this accident. What was really going on here?

  What was going on with me, was the true question. My rainbow symphony was beautiful, but if we are being honest, people don't walk around seeing and hearing things in color. Add in the voices and now the old man, I had a recipe for disaster. I could chalk it up to a dream, but I had seen this man and my symphony with eyes open.

  I heard my mother say my name, and my eyes snapped open. She was holding me still. I must have been fighting in my sleep.

  "Ana, you are going to make your injuries worse. Are you okay?" She looked at me like I had grown another head.

  "Are you okay?" she repeated, and no matter what I said, I knew that she was going to think what she wanted to anyway. She formed her opinion the moment she ran to my side.

  "Ana?" my mother's shortened version of my name had always irritated me, but I loved her too much to hurt her feelings. So, I remained quiet about it. My mother was a quiet, simple woman. She was a teacher, and she took education very seriously. So, she rode me hard about mine. Not that I didn't appreciate it, but sometimes, I just needed a break. Hence the reason I had ended up in Michael's car seven days ago.

  "Yes, Mama." I really wasn't, but I wasn't going to tell her, nor was I going to add any more stress to her life at this point.

  "Anastasia, you know you can tell me anything. You can always come to me and talk, you know that, right?"

  Okay, seriously, was she in the mood to have a deep philosophical conversation? Because at the moment my side was starting to hurt, and I had a headache.

  "Yes." My eyes were closed, and I laid my head back. I couldn't deal with my mother at this time. What Mama really wanted to know was how I ended up in the car with Michael. I had never done anything without their permission. I had good friends, went to school functions, you know, the normal teen stuff, but I had never had a teen temper tantrum nor had any outbursts. I was the perfect child with perfect grades, respectable clothes, and not a moment of drama.

  I thought about my father and how much work he must have missed since my accident. That was my fault. Would they make bills this month?

  The more things I thought about, the more I felt my insides shake. Literally, I felt like there was an earthquake on the inside of my body. How could I have done this to my parents? I worried about them. I worried about their health and their wellbeing.

  "Anastasia, be calm," my mom said in a cool voice. I felt her warm hands rub up and down my arms, and instantly, I relaxed. It was amazing how she had been doing that since I was little. If I was upset or my feelings were hurt, she would just rub me and tell me to be calm, and my feelings would just even out.

  "We have a long day tomorrow the doctors are coming in to tell us the plan on how to get you back up on your feet. You've got to get some rest. Ana, please stop being so worried, your father and I are fine."

  My body felt relaxed, and all the pain that I felt eased as well. Her, relaxing voice was the only thing that I heard before I fell into a peaceful slumber.

  When I woke up the sun was shining brightly. If I did dream, I didn't remember it, which was alright with me. Prior to the accident, I don't think I had too many dreams at all. Post-accident, my brain's activity had doubled.

  I looked around and smiled. Mama has been busy. The room was cleaned and wiped down. I recognized the smell of her special brand of cleanser. It smelled like home. She was really conscious of the environment and used special products with almost no chemicals.
There were balloons and flowers everywhere. Laying in the rocking chair in the corner was a stack of fresh linens and one of those plastic buckets. Mama came out of the bathroom, smiling when she saw that I was awake.

  "Good morning, dear. Are you ready to get cleaned up? Doc said we can try some clear fluids, and if you tolerate it, then we can move on to some heavier foods. We can get you up a little today, but carefully."

  Get me up? My left leg was broken and had been set in surgery. My left arm was broken also along with three ribs. With all of the bruises and contusions, I needed a long list just to name them. Carefully?

  "No." I refused to be touched or moved. This was where I drew the line.

  4

  To Heal

  The doctors were in amazement over how fast I was healing. They said that I was doing so well. Well, I didn’t feel like I was doing well.

  Papa only could come down on the weekends, and every time he got there he looked more and more stressed out. I overheard him telling Mama that the bills were building, and my hospital bills were going to top everything over. They were going to have to dip into my college fund to help with some of the cost of everything. My mother cried, and that was hard for me to hear because she rarely did that. My mother was like a rock. She didn’t lose her emotions like I tended to. I could hear my dad consoling her and telling her that we would figure it all out. That it would work out the way it was supposed to work out. That was my dad, saying things would be how the good Lord wanted them to be.

  I wish I had the ability to fix the things that needed fixing, just for them. They sacrificed so much for just me, and I messed things up even more for them. They were going to have to work harder to make it.

  Dr. Shields said that I would need physical and respiratory therapy while I was here and possibly after I left. That was more money my parents would need to spend.

  “Anastasia, stop thinking so hard. I can hear your wheels turning. Do you want to go and get some breakfast?” my father suddenly asked me.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Dr. Shields said that you are doing quite well and that you can try a light breakfast today. We could wheel you down for a nice change of scenery.”

  “Can I have eggs? Toast, maybe?” My voice had fully returned last night. I still had moments where I didn’t want to speak, but I lost the squeak and wheeze in my chest and gained some of my strength back.

  “Sure, Mija. Sounds light to me.”

  He scooped me up easily in his arms and gently placed me in the wheelchair. Mama covered me with my favorite leopard printed blanket from home.

  Home. I missed my friends and school. Even though we were out for the summer, I was supposed to go to a summer program. I had wanted to get ahead so I could be in the community college program my last semester of school. I didn’t know what would happen now.

  The flowers, balloons, cards, and candies that were steadily coming in belonged to my classmates, teachers, family, and friends, It was sort of embarrassing to know that everyone knew what I had done, but the sentiment from the town was touching.

  Mama stayed behind, and just me and Papa walked on.

  “On the way to the cafeteria, we are going to make a stop.”

  “Sure, Papa. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, baby girl, it is. I figured you may want to stop and see a friend.” We stopped in a room that was on the other side of the floor. At first, I didn't know what to think. Michael’s name was written out in black, permanent marker on a huge flower sticker on the door. Room 3-209. I grabbed Papa’s arm when he reached out to open the door. I was terrified; I didn’t know what I was going to find behind the door.

  “It is okay, Mija.”

  He rolled me in, and I instantly fell apart. Michael laid in a bed with all kinds of wires and cords everywhere. There were enough flowers in here to spread across a field. He looked so peaceful and at rest. I watched his machines and counted along with one as it assisted him to take deep breaths in and out. I was assured that he would not die anytime soon, because the machines were there to take the place of his tired organs.

  I looked back at my father, and he looked on sadly. He walked over and laid his hands on Michael’s chest and began to pray in Spanish. I bowed my head and joined him. Before we left, my father pulled Michael’s hand down to me so that I could kiss it. I prayed to every saint that I could think of and asked for his life to be saved. I prayed for healing and strength.

  I don’t know what drove me, but I looked up, and there was Michael, standing there in the corner. I could see through him, and he looked terrified.

  “Anastasia, can you see me?” he whispered to me. He was surrounded by a glorious, green ribbon. I looked at my father, and he didn’t appear to see or notice anything out of the ordinary. I felt a small spark in the center of my belly, and I concentrated on the feeling, and it grew.

  I didn’t answer him - I just stared at him. He wasn’t dead. I could tell that he had one foot in and the other out the door. I mustered up all of the strength I had and spoke. But how did I know?

  “Come back,” I said, and the feeling exploded out of me.

  ***

  Let’s just say that breakfast was anticlimactic. I sat quietly, and Papa rambled on about work and home. My friends had been calling and checking in on me, and because my cell broke during the accident, they couldn’t get in touch with me.

  Like I wanted to be around anyone at the moment, anyway.

  What was going on with me? Had I turned into some kind of freak?

  I looked at Papa and almost opened my mouth to say something when I noticed in the corner, over his right shoulder, was the same old man from before. He stared as usual, and I covered my face.

  “Anastasia? Are you not feeling well - you haven’t touched your eggs?”

  “Umm, yeah, Papa, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Seeing Michael was a little sad for me.”

  “Ahh. I’m sorry, Mija. Was he your boyfriend?”

  “No, Papa, he was just a sweet guy that I had been tutoring for some extra money, and we kind of liked each other. He invited me to this party, and, well, you know the rest.” I looked down at my hands. One reason was that I felt ashamed, and the other reason was so I couldn’t see Creepy in the corner, staring at me. I mean, really, what the hell? The last couple of weeks had been a lot. The accident, the rainbow symphony, and I kept seeing this creepy, old man. All I wanted to focus on was getting better so I could get home.

  “Mija, listen, there are things that you can tell me and your mother. You can share who you are with us. There was never a need for you to not talk to us and tell us about your life. We love you; we care about you. Not just your grades, but also about things that mean something to you. You liking a boy was something important. You've got to make better choices, though. This could have turned out really bad.”

  As if it didn’t? But I knew what he meant.

  “I'm sorry, Papa, you're right. I think I just felt so much pressure about school and getting into the right college and just making you proud, that I needed to get away from the things that were stressing me.”

  “I understand, love, but next time you're feeling stress, please come to me and your mother. Anastasia, please don't hold secrets. It may shock you just how much your mother and I may understand.” He smiled. It was the oddest thing, though, as he smiled, but his eyes did not.

  I looked over my father's shoulder at that man and at the moment, I just couldn't deal with anything else.

  “Papa, would you mind going to grab me a juice?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  I waited for my father to walk away, and I unlocked the brakes on my wheelchair. I slowly maneuvered my way over to the man in the corner. I put myself at an angle, so if anybody was looking, it would appear that I was looking out of the window and not talking to an empty corner. I made sure my back was to the room.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” When he didn't answer, I felt the frustration grow. I
repeated my question one more time, and again silence met me. He just stared at me rudely and said not a word. A feeling deep in my stomach started bubbling. I recognized my anger, but the other feeling I didn't understand. I gathered all my strength to try to keep myself calm, and I whispered. “Leave!” and he disappeared.

  5

  The Letter

  When we pulled up to my house, I was ecstatic. Our little, yellow cottage looked just the same as it did when I left. The yard had flowers all around. My mother had always had an excellent green thumb.

  Funny how I was so happy to be back after running to leave. After only three short weeks of recovery in the hospital, the doctor had released me to go home. They could not believe how fast my healing was. I still was a little tired and had a slight limp, but I was out of danger. It was suggested that I continue to wear a brace on my leg just to give it the extra support it needed for a while. I also kept a brace on my arm for my comfort. My parents were given specific instructions to make me a follow-up appointment at my doctor's office here in town. There was no need for us to travel back down to the hospital to be checked out, the facilities here were sufficient enough.

  I was officially convinced that it was the medicine that they were giving me that caused the hallucinations that I had. I never saw the old man again, the colors disappeared, and so did the voices. Our school system started in just two weeks, and I was excited to get back to a normal routine. I even decided I was going to call the coffee shop to see if I could come back and work. My friends had called me and told me that there was a back to school party this weekend. My mind turned to Michael, and I felt horrible. No more parties for me.

  I had lived and healed faster than they had anticipated, but he was still fighting. I kissed him on his head before I left and told him to heal. I looked around to see if I saw him, which, of course, I didn’t.