Chapter 60 Rising Through the Silence
POV Scarlett:
Days have passed since I woke up, and I am still the same. I can’t speak, I can’t move; all I can do is blink. I’m trapped in a useless body, one that is incapable of taking me to the people I love. The visits from those men have increased even more since they learned that I have no idea who they are. Damian, Liam, Ethan, and Noah—those are their names. Each of them introduced themselves to me, hoping it would make me remember who they are, and all I could do was listen, hoping it would work. But it didn’t. I don’t know who they are, much less what they mean to me.
Apparently, I worked for them before the accident. They didn’t go into details about what exactly I did; they said they didn’t want to overwhelm me and that we would have plenty of time to talk. After they left, when I was alone with my thoughts, I concluded that they wouldn’t keep visiting me if they didn’t know me, right? Liam told me that they have been paying for everything since I was admitted to the hospital. I wish I could speak to ask about my parents and my boyfriends. None of them have come to visit me since I woke up. I just want to know what I am doing in Detroit, so far away from the people I love most.
I closed my eyes in frustration. Not knowing the answers to my questions is stressing me out. I want to know about my parents, about my boyfriends. Do they know I had an accident? That I was in a coma for so long? My questions are interrupted by the sound of the door opening—that’s the only thing that lets me know someone has entered. Sounds. I want to move my head; I want to speak… I just want to get out of here.
“Good morning, princess.” I recognize that voice—it’s Noah. Out of the four, he’s the one who talks the most. “Remember what I told you yesterday?” He kisses my forehead, and I close my eyes, unable to understand all this affection he and his brothers have for me. I must have been a great employee. What exactly did I work with? “I’ll be here for whatever you need.”
Noah told me he would be by my side through the new stage my doctor is preparing for me. Yesterday I met the speech therapist and the physical therapist who will help me speak and move my body again as soon as possible. It’s what I want most, but they warned me it will be a slow process, that I can’t get discouraged, that each day will be a victory—and that’s what I held on to. I know it won’t be easy, but if I want to get out of here, I need to try my best.
“Liam asked me to tell you he’ll come in the afternoon. He has to take care of the…” Noah went silent, and I opened my eyes to find his widened. “Company,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “The nurse told me she already fed you.” He changed the subject, and I became curious to know why. “That’s good, now you’re strong enough to start your first exercises. Are you ready for that?” I blinked twice so he wouldn’t think I was being rude. “You’ll be okay soon, I believe that.” I received another kiss on the forehead and wished deeply that Noah was right. I just want to return to the people I love.
...
Three weeks later…
I can’t do this anymore. Everything hurts, and every time I try to lift my hand, an excruciating pain consumes me—it’s as if my bones are burning. I will never be the same again, that’s the truth. Tears sting my eyes as I try once again to lift the spoon and bring food to my mouth. My hand trembles, spilling everything back onto the plate again. It’s been days since I started physical therapy. I thought it would be a fast process, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. It took eight days for me to hold my head up; at least now I can turn my face to see who enters the room. It took another four days before they were able to sit me up in bed, even though they have to strap me in, because otherwise I would fall—I’m unable to hold my own body upright.
Incapable…
That’s what I’ve become. When I’m not trying to move my body, I’m trying to speak, which is even worse. I don’t believe I will return to normal like everyone else believes and tries to make me believe. I’m tired of their optimism. I’m tired of wanting to know about my parents and none of them telling me anything. I’m exhausted. I just want to feel… capable.
“You can do it, Scarlett, don’t give up.” The optimism in Noah’s voice irritates me even more. He has truly kept his word—every day, during my exercise sessions, he’s here. “You’re the strongest woman I know. If anyone can lift that spoon, it’s you.”
A plastic spoon. I can’t lift a plastic spoon.
“Slowly, Scarlett, don’t be so hard on yourself. Today is the first time we’re trying, so no pressure.” I nodded weakly. I need to do this. I don’t want anyone feeding me anymore.
With trembling hands, I try again. I fill the spoon with a bit of soup and begin the path toward my mouth. My hand trembles so much that some spills onto me, but I don’t give up—I keep going. My eyes burn the moment I manage to touch the spoon to my lips. I slowly open my mouth, and I almost can’t believe it when the spoon enters.
I did it! I did it!
“Very good, Scarlett.” My physical therapist gives me a wide smile. “You did it.” I smile and let tears of joy fall—this is the first time I’ve felt happy since I woke up. I look at Noah, who is crying and smiling at the same time.
“The strongest woman I know.” He repeats it, and for the first time, I believe his words.
I am strong. I can and will get through this.