“Hello?”
“Maryann, it’s Bryce.”
“Hi, Bryce. Is everything okay?”
“No. Alexis is in hospital. She fell down the stairs.”
“Oh my goodness. Is she alright? Is the baby alright?”
“She has a head injury and a broken leg. I’m not sure if anything else is broken or the extent of her head injury.”
“Oh my God. Um...I—”
“A friend of mine is on her way to pick you up in a chopper and bring you here. I’m not sure the kids should come at this stage though. I...I really don’t know if it’s a good—”
“No, you’re right. We won’t mention anything to the kids. Bryce, is the baby alright?”
I paused, not knowing if I could actually open my mouth and say the words. I had to though, so I sucked in a deep breath and said it out loud for the first time. “No, Maryann. The baby did not survive the fall.”
I heard her gasp and subdue a sob. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Oh no, my poor darling girl.”
“Chelsea is the pilot’s name. I’ve sent her details to land where I did at Easter. She should be there in approximately 40 minutes.”
I hung up the phone and stood completely still, the past hour’s events only now just having sunk in. My adrenalin levels had also plummeted, and I felt the sudden urge to hurl my guts. I noticed an exit sign and a door which led outside, and without hesitation, I slammed my hands onto the glass panels and pushed it open. I took a few steps and vomited into the garden.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I was almost certain when I began to rouse, that falling down the stairs had been a nightmare and I was simply waking up from it. I was almost certain that the constant beeping sounds and white noises that had been filtering in through my ears were all part of that unconscious realm. I was also almost certain that the unpleasant aroma that had been intermittently plaguing my sense of smell was again, part of my dreamlike state. The thing was, I wasn’t dreaming and my brain had only just now begun to decipher the reality that surrounded me, decoding what was real as opposed to a delusion. The fact from fiction became clearly apparent.
My foot was throbbing in pain, and my head had the sudden urge to explode—that was fact. I could hear voices and noises close by and in the distance—fact, yet again. I could smell the unmistakable scent of sterilizing lotion—that was also a fact. And I had a dry scratchy-like irritation at the back of my throat, together with a horrible metallic taste in my mouth —once again, fact.
I willed my brain to force my eyelids open but instead my hand flinched, grasping the hand that was placed underneath it.
“Alexis. Alexis, it’s me, Hunny. I’m right here,” Bryce spoke, his voice penetrating my ears, filling me with a sense of calm. “Maryann, I think she’s trying to wake up again.”
His hand tightened around mine.
“Jen, get the nurse,” my mum said, her voice growing louder as she spoke.
I felt a finger graze my cheek and it startled me, forcing my facial muscles to twitch.
“Lexi, Sweetheart. It’s Mum.”
My eyelids were stubbornly refusing to open, so this time rather than willing them, I demanded they open with everything I had in me. They obeyed and fluttered, filtering in flickers of light and spectrums of colour. I blinked a few times, gaining back strength and control of my eyelids.
Almost instantly, I saw Bryce standing to my left, an expression of mixed emotion on his face. He looked happy and relieved, yet at the same time exhausted and concerned. My mum was to my right, brushing hair away from my face and smiling warmly at me.
“Is she awake?” my sister Jen asked, as she burst into the room, which I now confirmed was a hospital room; the cream coloured walls and clinical equipment surrounding me a clear indication of that.
A nurse in lilac coloured scrubs walked in after Jen, making her way over to me with a calm and reassuring look on her face. She started checking the monitors that were set up beside my bed. “Hello, Alexis. My name is Stella. I’m a nurse here at the Royal Women’s Hospital. You were brought in this morning after you fell down some stairs and hit your head.”
I tried to talk, but only intermittent words and noises came out of mouth.
“You might find it a bit difficult to talk at first. You were put under anaesthesia and intubated, so your throat may feel a little sore or irritated.”
I nodded and tried to speak again. “Mm...my...foot..ff...feels—”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “Your foot will feel quite sore. When you fell you fractured your fibula. You’ve had surgery to repair the break and your ankle is now set in a cast.”