Quinn starts playing his guitar. He begins to sing to me softly. This was the sound that woke me up from wherever I was. As much as I want to turn my head toward him, I can’t. My eyes start to droop. I fight to keep them open, but after each blink, it’s harder to open them the next time.
Except, I’m not sleeping. I can hear everything around me. The beeping is back, but so are voices. My parents, Elle and Quinn’s voices are distinct. Others, I’m not so sure about. People come in and out of my room, and for the most part, they seem happy. They’re talking quietly, but I can hear a few of the things they’re saying.
As much as I want to, I can’t open my eyes. Even though I attempt to each time someone asks, I fail. And whoever is sitting around me at the time gets unbelievably upset when I can’t accomplish what they’re asking. I want to tell them I’m trying, but that’s near impossible. My body feels like it’s detached from my nervous system and no matter what my brain says, my body is rejecting the notion, except for the twitching.
Every few seconds my right arm jerks, which causes an obscene amount of pain. Each internal scream is nothing more than a grunt. After the sensation dies down, I’m numb again. I’ve gathered that one of these machines I’m hooked up to is keeping me doped up because right now I’m pain free.
By sheer luck, my eyes open. Someone notices. I don’t know who but there’s a mad rush to my bedside
with everyone jockeying for position. They say my name repeatedly, asking if I can hear them. They do know I have something stuck in my mouth and can’t answer them, right?
Frantically, I look around trying to focus on one face, but my vision is blurry and the people clamoring around are nothing more than blobs making noise. It’s easier when I’m asleep or pretending to be so I close my eyes and the commotion around me stops. Now it’s peaceful even though I can hear the people in my room talking. My mom is worried there’s something wrong because I won’t wake up. Maybe if they’d leave me alone, I’d open my eyes and greet them, but the instant onslaught isn’t helping my brain cope with whatever is going on.
My room is quiet, with the exception of the machines and the sound of someone talking. The voice is muffled though and I’m having a hard time placing who they might be. I open my eyes again and find Quinn next to me. This time, he’s not focused on me, but a small television, which is sitting on a cart. He’s staring at it intently, completely unaware that I’m watching him.
At some point, someone elevated my bed. I have the urge to cough but am afraid to with this tube down my throat. I can’t kick him because my leg won’t move and each time I try to move my arm, I feel like I’m being stabbed so I grunt, hoping I’m loud enough he’ll be able to hear me over the television.
He looks at me from over his shoulder. I try to smile and his eyes go wide. “Welcome back.” He reaches over the top of me and fiddles with something and within seconds the Petpo pink shirt-wearing lady is back.
“Hello, we look a little more awake this time.”
Nodding is really the only thing I can do, and the action brings a smile to her face. She busies herself with setting various other tubes.
“What are you doing?” Thankfully Quinn asks because I’m wondering the same thing.
“I’m going to suction out her tube before I remove it. She’s going to be very sore and with her chest wound the last thing we want is for her to have to cough excessively.”
Chest wound? I glance at Quinn and wait for him to look at me, but his attention is solely on my nurse. I don’t have to do anything while she completes her task, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared. Quinn leans toward me, careful as to where he touches me.
“Okay, sweetie. I need you to open your mouth.” I do as she says and she suctions out my mouth, making me feel like I’m at the dentist. “Now, I’m going to remove the tube. If you feel like you need to cough, go ahead.”
The process seems slow. I can feel the tube moving inside of me. The tickling sensation causes me to cough, but the pain is almost too much to handle. My eyes go wide as I gasp for air. Quinn is in my ear, telling me that everything is going to be okay, but I’m not so sure I believe him right now.
“One second and you’ll feel fine,” the nurse says, and she is right. Just like that, I’m numb again. She places an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, tightening the straps on the side. “You’ll need to wear this for a while, but feel free to talk if you’re up to it. Okay?”
I close my eyes and nod.
“How long will she be on the morphine?” Quinn asks.
“It’s hard to say. The doctor will be in to discuss everything with your parents as soon as they return.”
“Hey, can you hear me?”
I turn my head slightly toward Quinn. I smile at him.
“You don’t know how good it feels to see your eyes, Peyton. Everyone is here: Mom, Dad, and Elle, Liam and Josie, Jimmy and Jenna. They’ve all been waiting for this moment and I’ve gotten to see you open your eyes twice. I think that means you like me the most.”
“Love,” I whisper, but I don’t think he can hear me with this mask on or the fact that my voice is barely audible. I want to ask where Noah is, but I’m not surprised he’s not here. He has a life away from us now, one led by someone I can’t stand.
“Everyone is about to be on TV. Do you want to watch?”
Quinn doesn’t wait for my answer. He pulls the cart closer so I can see. As far as televisions go, this one is fairly small and looks extremely outdated, but on the screen is the band’s manager, Mira, with my dad and uncles standing behind her. I love Mira. She really takes care of the band and has increased their staying power. My dad says there was a time when they struggled with a manager, but since hiring Mira, they’ve been very happy.
“Good afternoon. I want to thank you all for coming out. I know it’s a bit chilly, but I promise to keep this short and sweet. Over the past week, there has been a lot of speculation about 4225 West. I can assure, as you can see behind me, everyone is okay. However, Harrison James’ daughter, Peyton, was involved in a near fatal accident last Sunday. As many of you will recall, Chicago Bears quarterback, Kyle Zimmerman, was also involved in an accident. His passenger was Peyton. As erroneously reported by ESPN, the passenger in Mr. Zimmerman’s car did not pass away on the scene.”
My eyes go wide and according to one of the machines I’m hooked up to, my heart must be racing. I don’t know how I didn’t realize I was in an accident… is that why I can’t move? Mira continues to talk, and I try to focus on what she’s saying, but my mind is wild with questions.
“It is also with great pleasure I can report that Ms. Powell-James is conscious and her status has been upgraded to critical but stable. I will give you my normal spiel and tell you the family requests their privacy during this time, but we all know there is no such thing anymore. We are willing to answer any questions you may have.”