Chapter 3

This time the darkness didn’t claim me for long. I could hear the beeping of a heart monitor and various other medical equipment. My body felt sore and stiff from lack of movement. My eyelids were heavy as I forced them open, scanning the small room with blurry eyes. When my eyes adjusted to the light I inspected my skin, afraid of what I would find. It was slightly more pink than was normal, and it felt almost overly sensitive and dull at the same time, like my hands had fallen asleep and all my sensations were dulled, but it hurt to move them.

There weren't many scars, mostly on the tops of my fingers but not nearly as bad as I expected it to be. My hands then went to my face and I winced as I touched a bandage on my neck that measured to my ear. I closed my eyes at the sudden pain from touching it a little too hard. Next, I put my hands in my hair, feeling some singed and brittle parts; nothing a haircut couldn’t fix. I was momentarily grateful I had decided on a bun that day.

Before my inspection could continue, the door opened and a middle-aged male doctor walked in. He had brown hair with grey at his temples, he was average height and build, with kind brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. As he stepped further into the room he noticed I was awake. He looked momentarily stunned before smiling kindly as he pulled his stethoscope from around his neck.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone gentle and patient as he listened to my heart.

“Sore a-and thir-thirsty,” I managed to croak out, my throat dry and scratchy.

“That’s to be expected. I’ll grab you a glass of water.” He went into the small bathroom in the room and I could hear the tap run for a brief moment before he came back out with a glass of water. I gratefully took it and slowly sipped it. “You’ll be sore for some time. Your body needs time to get used to the movement.”

“How long ha-have I been out?” I questioned before taking a sip of water.

“You’ve been in a coma for 2 months. In all honesty we didn’t expect you to wake and if you did there was an extremely high chance of brain damage. The fact that you are lucid and are having a conversation is a miracle. Be thankful that he wouldn’t let us do end-of-life care,” he explained as he ran a general checkup.

“Who wouldn’t let you?” I asked, hoping it was who I thought it was.

“James. The young firefighter that came in with you. He hasn’t left your side unless absolutely necessary. He’ll be happy to know you’re awake.”

“He’s been here?” I was shocked, but happy.

“Yes. He was here last night. Left this morning for food and a shower. Said he would be back soon. But I do have questions for you. We know nothing but your first name. We need full name, age, next of kin, medical history,” he requested, picking up his clipboard.

“Oh. I’m 20, full name is Haven Emory Thompson. I don’t have any next of kin and the only other time I’ve been in the hospital was when I was born.”

“No next of kin?”

“No, my parents died when I was 17. I have no siblings or relatives.”

“Do you have a place to go home to?” he asked.

“Yes. Though I think my power must have been cut off. And I probably lost my job,” I mused with a sigh. 

“I’ll write you a doctor's note dear.” He spoke with a kind smile and a pat to my hand.

“You’re awake!” came a shocked voice from the doorway.

I looked over to see James standing there. His blue eyes looked astounded but happy, his full lips tilting up in a smile. His black hair was damp from a shower and his jaw had a few days’ worth of stubble. He was wearing blue jeans, work boots and a white long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Was he this handsome last time?

“Well I’ll let you two catch up. I have rounds to get back to. Someone will be back later to check up on you,” the doctor informed me before leaving.

I looked back up at James to see him staring intently at me. I blushed under his gaze. Now that he was here I could ask him the questions that had been bugging me since the doctor told me James stayed here.

“You stayed here. Why?” I asked quietly as I stared down at the blanket covering my legs. I heard him sigh and I looked over as he dropped into the chair by my bed and ran a hand over his face and through his hair.

“I stayed because… you were alone. No one knew your name, if you had family or how old you were. I was concerned because I didn’t want you to wake up alone. If the situation was reversed I would hope that someone would be here for me. I’d want someone to fight for me,” he explained truthfully, his blue eyes shining.

“Thank you. If you hadn’t stopped them I’d be- thank you, James,” I choked through tears as he looked alarmed. James leaned forward and without hesitation he wrapped his arms around me in a comforting hug.

“Shh, Haven. It’s ok. You’re fine now and that’s all that matters,” he murmured into my hair as he held me. He held me until my tears stopped and I was able to calm down.

“Thanks,” I whispered, feeling embarrassed that a stranger held me while I cried. He just smiled at me as he took my hands in his and gave them a squeeze.

"Can you tell me about yourself, Haven? I’ll do the same. That way we won't be strangers.” I chuckled as I wiped away the remaining tears.

“That sounds like a good idea. Well, my full name is Haven Emory Thompson. I’m 20 and I worked as a waitress but it’s pretty much guaranteed that I lost that job. I live alone in my family’s estate. I have no siblings or relatives. I like to read and listen to music. I love the colour purple, sarcasm is my first language, I’m scared of cows and clowns. I prefer nighttime over daytime and I’m not religious. Um... I don’t know what else to say.” I ended my rant with a soft chuckle and took a sip of water.

“That’s a lot to take in. No relatives? No family of any kind?” he asked, shocked.

“No just me. That’s why I’m grateful that you were here for me,” I spoke honestly.

“I’d be here even if you had someone,” he said with a small smile.

“Well tell me about you, James,” I prompted with a blush spreading across my cheeks.

“Well I’m 29, my full name is James Owen Mathews, I live in a small condo with my dog Thatcher -he’s a mutt. I read when I have the time. I play piano and violin. I have a younger sister and an older brother. Both are married and have kids. I have dinner with my family when work allows it. Umm… I was engaged once but it didn’t work out. Hmm. That’s all I can think about right now,” he finished with a smile.

"Thatcher? That’s an odd name for a dog,” I stated, knowing that bringing up the failed engagement would make things awkward.

“Thatcher is a perfectly acceptable name for a dog,” he defended with a laugh. “It fits him. He’s a big suck, he demands a lot of love.”

“I like pets. Never had them growing up. My mom was allergic to pet dander so I was never allowed.”

“That must have sucked, not having pets. I always had pets growing up.” He shifted his position to sitting cross-legged on the end of my bed.

“A little. It must be nice to have a big family. I've always been jealous of people who have big families. It’s lonely being an only child, especially when the house is so damn big.”

“It’s a little overwhelming sometimes but it’s nice. Big house?”

“Yeah, it’s the big estate over on Rosemont St. It’s been in the family for generations and as I’m the last of my family, it’s all mine.”

“I know that place. I thought it was empty all these years.”

“Mhm. My parents passed a few years ago in a car accident and the house became mine. I was the only one there so I imagine most people thought it was empty.”

It was quiet for awhile, but it was a nice quiet. We sat in silence for a bit until the door opened and a young nurse came in. She flashed a flirty smile at James and checked over my charts.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, not even bothering to look at me.

“Fantastic.” I replied sarcastically as I shifted, trying to get comfortable. “When can I get out of here?”

“I’m not sure exactly. That decision is up to the doctor. Once he says it’s ok, you can go home,” she explained, glancing at me before smiling at James and batting her eyelashes. I rolled my eyes and coughed to hide a scoff. Could you be any more obvious, lady? “Someone will be back later to check on you.” She batted her eyelashes once more at James before leaving the room.

“If she had batted her lashes at you once more, I’d have been worried her eyes would have fallen out of her head,” I joked.

“I never even noticed,” he chuckled.

“How could you not? She was making it very obvious. You really must not notice the way women look at you.”

“I’m not into those kinds of women. I prefer women who are real and don’t try too hard to gain a man's attention,” he shrugged. In the silence that followed I decided to ask a question that had been running through my mind since I woke up.

“James… is that little girl ok?”