Losing Leah

15

MIA

THE DARKNESS had become more consuming. It smothered my room, blocking out all light. There was no way to fight. It wasn’t something I could push away. I did the only thing that seemed rational at the time and slipped on Jacob’s Green Lantern ring that no longer felt quite as big on my finger, and pulled my blankets up over my head. I clamped my eyes closed, telling myself the darkness couldn’t get me under the blankets. I pretended the tugging sensation I felt at my feet wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I wanted to wake up Jacob but I was too terrified to even move. The darkness wanted to snatch me away, like a monster from the scariest of horror stories. Why didn’t I listen to Jacob and tell Mom and Dad? They could have helped me.

My room became oddly cold. I shivered uncontrollably, clutching my blanket tightly around my body. The tug at my feet grew stronger, but I refused to peek. Deep in my heart I knew the time to run and hide had passed, but I couldn’t bring myself to face it. My heart thundered fiercely in my chest like a runaway train. I wondered, maybe even hoped that my heart would give out before the darkness could take me.

The seconds ticked by, measured by my steady pulse. No longer able to take the torture a moment more, I slowly began to pull the blanket away from my face. Inch by inch, until I could feel the cold air on my forehead. It kissed my eyelids as I tugged the blanket down over the peak of my nose. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my face was completely uncovered. My eyes remained nailed shut. I couldn’t decide if it was more terrifying not to look.

The moment I opened my eyes, nothing would ever be the same again. I could feel it.

My eyelids did not open slowly when I removed the blanket. Instead they popped open abruptly, as if I no longer had control over my own body, exposing the darkness at once.

Fear is a monster. Once you let it in, it eats you from the inside out.

In spite of that, fear was not the enemy. My enemy was the absence of everything. A scream rose in my throat but never found an exit as the darkness finally took what it wanted most. Me. The darkness had won.

16

LEAH

MY HEAD was a mess. Nothing made any sense. I faded in and out to the sounds of machines beeping loudly around me. The prick of a needle going into my arm made me gasp. Voices shouted over each other, making it hard to discern what they were saying. At times it was as if I was floating. Time had no sense of meaning. Each moment I managed to pry my eyes open a different face peered down at me. I called out for Mother but she never seemed to be there. Tubes were shoved in my nose and suddenly I could breathe easier.

I slept.

I woke.

More machine beeps again. This time I opened my eyes to see faces that felt vaguely familiar. Their lips moved but their words confused me. I called out for Mother again. My heart raced, causing my pulse to thump madly against my skin. There were too many voices. I covered my ears and clamped my eyes closed. Every bone in my body felt leaden and heavy. I just wanted to sleep, to be left alone without anyone talking over me, or poking me or prodding me. I just wanted them to stop. I needed space. A moment to process everything. It was all too much.

The words refused to come, stuck somewhere in my lungs, which had become a fist, squeezing any available air. I couldn’t breathe. My chest heaved as gasps of air wheezed out of me.

“Breathe, honey. Just breathe.” The familiar face appeared again at my side, stroking a hand over my forehead to soothe me.

“Where’s Mother?” I asked, trying to look beyond the many bodies in the room. “Mother. Don’t be mad.”

Then the familiar face broke. One minute it was beaming down at me, the next it looked at me like I’d killed her. Before I could understand what I did done wrong, her face disappeared from sight. Grief seeped in like a wave washing away everything in its wake.

“You’re okay, sweetie,” a young nurse said as she adjusted a dial that caused more air to pour through the tubes in my nose. “Just breathe.”

Fresh oxygen flooded my lungs. I inhaled deeply, working to regain my composure. “You’re okay,” the familiar voice murmured. Although I recognized her face, I hesitated to put a name to it. She stroked my forehead again with a gentle touch, tears flowing down her cheeks. I had so many questions, but my eyes felt heavy and refused to stay locked on hers. I fell unconscious before I could get the next word out.

She’s there each time I’m awakened, always on the outskirts, silently hovering. Her presence was comforting amid the unfamiliar sounds around me, but my eyes refused to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time. During the brief moments I would awaken there always seemed to be a new nurse or doctor peering down at me. I found it hard to keep up. After so many years of having only Mother seeing to my needs it was unsettling to have so many people constantly around me, the buzz of voices, knowing that I was being talked about. And yet the gist of their words was just beyond my comprehension. I craved the peace of my basement. At least there it would have been quieter, less chaotic.

The firm grip of a blood-pressure cuff around my arm is what finally woke me on a bright morning. I glanced around my room and found that I was alone except for a nurse. I had expected to see the woman with the familiar face again, but as far as I could tell she was nowhere around. Had my mind played tricks on me? Maybe she had never been there at all. The thought occurred to me that maybe I had been taken to Mother’s hospital? I braced myself, anticipating the moment she would walk through the door, sure to be angry over all the trouble I had caused.

“Well, hello there,” chirped the nurse taking my blood pressure, seeing that I was awake. She beamed down at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” I croaked, surprised that my voice was so rough.

“Here you go, honey. You’re severely dehydrated.” She held a cup of water out for me so I could sip from the bendy straw. Her cheerful tone and caring bedside manner was a steep contrast to Mother’s. My own mouth turned up in a smile in response. “We have you hooked up to fluids but your throat is going to feel very dry for a while.”

I drank greedily from the cup, not sure I could ever remember a time I had been so thirsty.

“Not too fast,” she said, pulling the cup back slightly. “We

don’t want you to get sick.”

I released the straw from my lips like she wanted but still felt like I could have guzzled a gallon of water if she would have let me. “We” don’t want you to get sick. That was what she had just said. I couldn’t help wondering who the “we” was. Actually, I had a million questions buzzing around in my head. Before I could get my tongue to wrap around them though there was a knock on my door.