Young Writers Society

Day Four

I keep trying to divert the conversation away from me, but Mandy, as she introduced herself, is persistent.

"I couldn't help noticing that..." she starts. I notice the slight pause and take advantage of it.

"So where were you, Phil, and the baby going before you stopped?" I ask, dodging her sure questions.

"We were just on our way to our cabin for a little fresh air. It’s just by the river. We hardly make any use of it. Oh hun..." her attention is suddenly focused on my arm, "Won't you let me look at it? It can't be getting any better tied up like that..."

I realize I had been messing with the jacket tied over my arm and force that hand to my side.

"I'm fine."

She nods, but worry creases her forehead. "The nearest hospital is still a bit of a ways away from here? Are you sure you don't want to stop to eat something- there's a diner nearby?"

I shake my head. I haven't been hungry for awhile and it just now seems slightly concerning. I decide that I'll get what I need and sneak right out the hospital somehow. Phil and Mandy seem like nice people, but I'll never see them as more than a ride.

I look over the baby next to me. "I never asked, what's its name?"

Phil laughs, but it's out of discomfort. "Her name is Amelia."

Mandy looks at the baby, all traces of worry washed from her face. "My baby girl hasn't cried once with you here, I think she really likes you."

I force a smile on my face. The atmosphere suddenly feels... claustrophobic. 

"Oh... yeah, I guess." I mumble, turning to look out the window. For obvious reasons, I’m not the most comfortable around adults. And I don't remember my parents. According to Harold, they were never any good anyway. I force myself to breathe and focus on the scenery flying by.

I think Mandy notices my sudden change in personality and clears her throat. "Try to get some sleep sweetie, you look like you've been awake for days."

I look back at her, an expression I can't quite name on my face. Sleep? I remember drifting in and out of short bursts of unconsciousness over the last few days, but that hardly counts as "rest". I'd been too worried that I wouldn't wake again to really sleep. But I hadn't died yet, so that must count for something.

Briefly, I consider the risk. But from what I can tell, these people are harmless. Maybe it's just the sleep-deprivation or something along those lines, but a nap does seem reasonable.

"I guess you're right. I’ll, uh, do that now." I shut my eyes and wait for blackness to creep in.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Nora? Are you in there?"

A quiet voice registers in my ears and I crack my eyes. When I see an unfamiliar face looking back at me, they fly open. My hands fly forward, tangling themselves in wires and an IV.

"Woah, don't panic, dear." A woman in her young thirties smiles back at me. "My name is Dr. Xiao. You're well and being cared for. Your parents brought you in earlier today."

I try to shake my head, but the effort is restricted. From the cool plastic and soft foam, I recognize that there must be a brace of some sort fastened around my neck. Nora? My parents? I remember Phil and Mandy. I had never told them my name so they must've come up with one of their own. And listing themselves as my parents? That was kind of stupid. I'm tanner than they are with dark curly hair- nothing like their pale skin and blonde hair. A niece might've been a better cover. I wonder what else they had told the hospital to get me in here.

“What’s wrong with me?” I whisper, my throat tingling painfully at the attempt.

"You had two fractured and one broken ribs, a poorly set radius and ulna- in your right arm, and a punctured lung- which seems to have been healing on its own. We took care of the breaks and reset your arm, but try not to move too much.” She purses her lips. "But I'm more concerned about your head. Your skull had multiple fractures above your right temple and an infection seemed to have set in, not to mention the concussion. We've got you on antibiotics and that seems to be slowing down the infection."

A sinking feeling sets in my stomach. So it's pretty bad.

"You're also dehydrated. We have you set up to a drip, so you'll be feeling better in no time." She give me a genuine smile.

I try to speak at a normal volume this time, but my voice is hoarse and my throat burns. I cough once, clearing it a bit. "Did mom and dad tell you how I got hurt?"

Dr. Xaio tilts her head, her expression unreadable. "Your parents said they found you a ditch, that you took your bike and ran away.” Her eyes suddenly wrinkle in suspicion. “Who reset your arm? It was poorly done."

I give her my best guilty smile. "That was me. I think I passed out after."

Her eyebrows rise in alarm. "By yourself?"

I try to shrug, but end up wincing.

She glances at a clipboard hanging by my bed. "Your injuries are days old." It isn't a question, but she seems to be waiting for me to say something about it.

I sigh. "I ran away what, two days ago? I didn't know what I was doing. My parents found me this morning. What time is it now?"

She glances at her watch. "Nine in the evening. You'll be here for a few days to a week, just so we can keep an eye on you and make sure everything is healing alright. I have to finish making my rounds, but press this button," she indicates to one beside my bed, "If you need me. I'll send up some solid food if you're hungry."

I nod. Even with the drip, I'm really starting to gain my appetite back. If anything, I can use the food to snack on while sneaking out of here. As she starts to walk towards the door, I reach to stop her.

"Hey, do you mind cracking the window? It's stuffy in here." When she starts to frown, I interject. "I promise I won't run away or anything, I just feel so trapped."

For some reason, she chuckles lightly. "I don't know if I believe you, but if it's any warning, we're on the third-story. Are you sure you don't want a fan or something?"

I shake my head. "It's something about the cold night air that makes me feel safe."

Despite her unbelief, she grins. "I'll send someone up with your food and you can convince them." 

I give her my best impression of a model patient, and she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I begin to realize it's a lot easier to wait here by myself than I thought. I'd been by myself loads of time, way more in the past few days. Usually, Harold keeps me company when he's not off doing all the little side jobs he can to keep up the impression we sustain ourselves otherwise. The people in our small town hardly notice how often we disappear. Off on a weekend vacation, they must think. Only once before did I conduct "business" in town, but that was a year and a half ago. And I barely made it out. Conducting business like that again with Jose was a stupid idea of Harold's. The guilt suddenly hits me again. I'll probably never see Harold again. I let out a heavy sight and focus myself. I'll have to chalk this up to practice for getting used to myself.

I look around the room, surprised that I hadn't memorized it immediately. Maybe I'm losing my touch. The walls are a pale blue, childish images of forest creatures painted to liven up the place, I suppose. The white trim has a few faded stickers hanging onto it, probably from some younger sibling visiting. The furniture itself is just as you'd expect, a solitary chair and a small table. That's aside from this contraption of a bed built to keep people like me from getting any worse. 

I hear a gentle knock at my door and a woman tip-toes in, carrying a metal tray. She pulls out a small foldable table over the bed and sets the tray down. I smell mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. The meat look like pork. And the small cup of fruit must be my desert. I lick my lips.

The woman, her braids tied up in a knot, also sets down a cup of water. "I'll be back in a bit, okay honey?"

"Thanks." I say. Then, remembering my escape, I add, "Do you mind cracking the window a bit?"

To my advantage, she complies easily, unlocking the silver clasp and pushing it out slightly. Nothing holds it in place, so I'll easily climb out.

Quietly, when she disappears out the door, I pull myself to my feet. The IV is out of my arm in an instant. I toss the food into the blanket, slightly disappointed as it mushes together on the fabric, and tie the whole thing together. Then, I grip the thing between my teeth, wincing when it hits me through my paper-thin gown.

Aside from a wave of vertigo and some uncomfortable pinching from my broken body, I climb from the room easier than I thought. My broken arm doesn't have a cast on it, but a more secure split and bandage. Shifting my weight on my feet and using my good arm to balance, the walls feels almost like stairs with its thick edges. I drop into some bushes and wiggle free. I disappear into the dark night, heading down the long road I started from.