Insidious(10)
“You’re gonna be fine.”
“No,” I croaked. I needed help!
The car banked down another hill, and Blaine swiveled the steering wheel to accommodate the deep, winding bends in the road.
“Shit!” He suddenly jerked the wheel and the vehicle skid so severely that my head slammed into the passenger window with an excruciating wallop.
A distorted, large black mass on the road swept past my vision as the car spun out of control. One full rotation later and a boulder came into sight, illuminated by the headlights. My neck snapped forward as the front end smashed into the rock head-on. Talcum powder engulfed me as the air bag deployed, but the impact didn’t relent. In an instant, the metal of the hood was pulverized in one swift crunch and the glass from the windshield blasted into my face. The power of the compression forced the front of the car to impede the inside of the passenger cabin, and my entire body was met with an annihilating blow as I felt my insides shatter apart.
Darkness.
That’s all there was. Searing pain raking through every inch of me, and I couldn’t move.
“Come on,” I overheard a distant voice grunt. “Just hang on.”
Cold hands pressed to my neck and someone’s fingers cradled my head.
“You’re gonna be alright.” The words were nothing more than a whisper, and then everything fell silent.
I couldn’t feel anything.
Subtle sounds slithered their way back into my world. After a moment, it became clearer.
“Miss? Miss?”
Lights blazed into my eyes as my right cheek lay against the dampened pavement. A bloodied hand rested in my line of vision, and I willed myself to move, seeing the fingers twitch. It was mine. There was also a line of rubber from a busted tire, mangled pieces of steel, and broken glass fragments splayed in front of me. A pair of thermal conductive gloves came into sight, and my head was readjusted to look straight upward.
“Can you hear me?” asked the middle-aged man crouched over me.
I could see the Star of Life emblem on the front of his hat, and I realized he was a paramedic. After failing to verbalize a response, I achingly nodded my head. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion with a disorientated haze clouding my eyes. People raced all around me, and I was eventually lifted up onto a stretcher.
“Blaine?” I tried angling my head back in the direction of the wreckage, but an EMT turned me forward again and placed an oxygen mask over my face.
***
Every inhale felt like I was trying to lift an elephant off my chest. The bleariness slowly eased from my vision, and the collection of screens and wires looming overhead finally came into focus. A green line continuously spiked up on one display before falling back to its baseline, and I realized it was a heart rate monitor. I didn’t remember the ambulance ride or my admission, but I was apparently now at the hospital. Only a small light in the corner illuminated the space, and blackness blanketed the sky outside the window. It was still night. Or maybe a whole other day had come and gone.
“Shhh,” cooed a male voice beside me. “You’re okay now.”
A familiar scent wafted in the air, overpowering the concentrated odor of disinfectant. I tried looking over at the individual, but the pain that shot through my neck kept me from fully turning. The only thing I could see in the limited light was a tall figure donned in hospital scrubs with a matching blue cap and surgical mask.
“Get some rest,” whispered the male nurse, heading out the door.
Not an inch of me seemed to be spared from the agony tearing through my body, and I prepared myself for the worst as I looked down at myself. A full body cast, an amputated limb, mangled features, deformity. I knew the impact, felt its devastation. I didn’t delude myself into believing it could be better than expected.
My breathing faltered as my eyes traveled down my body, my pained arm tearing away the blanket covering my legs. It couldn’t be. Deep purple stains painted the exposed skin in large splotches, greenish hues spreading across the edges before bleeding into healthier, untarnished flesh.
How?
Despite the horrid bruising and the pain that came with it, I could still bend my joints without opposition. My body remained intact. Not even a trace of a bandage. I tried calling out for help, but my parched throat merely made me cough at the attempt. Scouring the space around me, I failed to find anything with a reflective surface I could use to look at my face. My right cheek throbbed and my temple felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to the side of my head. I stifled a cry as I forced myself to sit up.
The aching pull inside my left arm made me acknowledge the needle shoved in my vein. I was attached to an IV. Grappling for the pole with the clear liquid bag hooked at the top of it, I planted my bare feet on the cold linoleum floor. Vanity outweighed the agonizing pain scorching my body as I struggled to stand. Where were my clothes? My jacket, pants, shirt, boots, and even socks were gone, replaced by a hideous hospital-issued gown.