Page 9 of Pretty Thing

She checks my vitals and adjusts the IV in my arm. Then she asks me my name, the date, and where I am. I answer slowly, afraid that if I say something wrong, the world will crumble all over again.

“How is your pain level from one to ten?”

“Seven, I guess. Ten when I move.”

“I’ll be back shortly to give you more pain meds.” She points to the slowly dripping bag.

I nod, not really caring.

When she leaves, it’s quiet again.

“My head feels…so fuzzy,” I admit. “Like I’m underwater or high.”

“So, you’ve gotten high…good to know,” Felix says with a smirk.

At another time I would’ve smiled, maybe even laughed, but I can’t bring myself to feel much of anything other than worry.

“That’s the concussion. They’ll keep an eye on you to make sure it doesn’t get worse. Don’t be surprised if they keep waking you up. That’s what I’ve seen in movies. I don’t really know if it’s true.”

I bite my lip and try to hold back the emotion threatening to choke me.

“You’re going to hate the spirometer,” he adds.

“I don’t want to know what that is,” I murmur.

“It’s to test your lungs.”

I slowly turn my head and look at him.

“How do you know that I’ll need that?”

Felix lifts a shoulder, then lets it drop, before hitting me with a grin.

“I’m good at listening.”

“You mean eavesdropping?”

“Maybe,” he says with a smirk.

My lips turn up a little for the effort.

“How long was I out?”

“It’s been a while, five…maybe seven hours now. I can’t remember when we got here, and they took me for x-rays and stuff. I’m sorry.” He shifts in his chair. “Does that mean you don’t remember everything?”

My chest aches.

“I remember the crash. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Not much after. It’s all in bits and pieces.”

His jaw clenches.

“Understandable.”

I swallow hard, staring at the ceiling.

“I was dreaming,” I whisper. “About before it happened. I had such a great weekend with my parents. I tried to wake them. I kept trying.”

Something flickers across his face. Sadness, maybe guilt or something deeper.