Part 3 (1/2)

”You stopped breathing. I couldn't revive you.” Tears welled in her eyes and her grip on my hand tightened.

My heart dropped into my stomach. ”But I'm okay now, right?”

She nodded, and the tears fell. Smiling, she wiped at them with the back of her hand. ”Yeah, you're more than okay, baby.”

The yellow curtain rustled, then parted and my dad came through carrying a huge pink teddy bear. He nodded toward my mom. ”Hey Lynn.” Then he smiled when he saw me awake. ”There's my girl.” He bent down and kissed me on the forehead.

He hadn't called me that since I was eight. Not since he got himself another daughter to call thata”my half sister, Heather, whom I despised. I also hated his new wife, Ginger. Every time I came over, which used to be every other weekend until I got old enough that I chose not to-she'd critique my wardrobe, my hair, my grades, anything she could find to pick apart. And then she'd blame it all on my mom.

He set the stuffed bear on one of the visitor chairs. ”The doctor says you're fit as a fiddle. No brain damage to speak of.”

I gasped. ”Brain damage? Why would I have brain damage?”

My mom sighed. ”Charlie.” She glared at my dad.

”What?” He put his hand up in defense. ”What did I do?”

”Why would I have brain damage, Mom?”

She looked at me again, and patted my hand. ”You weren't breathing for awhile, baby.”

”How long is awhile?”

”Seven minutes.”

I tried to think back to any of my science courses. Did we learn about the brain? I couldn't remember. Science was not my best subject. ”Is that bad?”

”I guess brain cells start to die after five minutes,” my dad said shrugging as if he was telling me something inconsequential like the weather.

”The thing here is that you're okay.” Mom squeezed my hand again. ”Once the doctor sees you and asks you some questions, you can come home.”

I settled back into the plump pillow Mom put behind my back but I definitely didn't feel settled. I was in shock with what my parents had just told me. I had died. And been dead for at least seven minutes. Except I didn't remember any tunnel of white light. There were no angels singing to me, or hands of G.o.d coming to take me safely home. I remembered nothing that cool.

Wait. That wasn't quite true.

I did remember hearing some music...

Hard, thras.h.i.+ng, rock n' roll type of music that left a tinny taste in my mouth. Or it could've been that I bit my cheek and I just now tasted the blood. There was a sore along my gum line that I kept tonguing.

”I'm going to go talk to a nurse, baby. You rest.”

I looked at her with that aelike what the h.e.l.l else could I do lying stiff with sore aching muscles in a hospital bed' arch to my eyebrows. But I said, ”Okay, Mom.” I knew she was doing everything she could to make me feel better. It just wasn't working so well.

I didn't feel better. I was scared and in pain and completely lost. I felt like one of those people who claimed to have been abducted by aliens-disoriented and having lost a bunch of time without being able to recollect anything that happened during the lapse. Something had been stolen from me and I would never get it back no matter what I did.

My dad patted my leg through the blanket. ”I'm going to go too. I just popped in to see how you were doing.” He looked uncomfortable standing there looking at me, his hands fidgeting at his belt where his cell phone was clipped.

I smiled at him, but what I really wanted to do was pop him one in the mouth. My dad hadn't been comfortable around me my whole life. He never had a clue what to do with me. My parents divorced when I was five and when I went to spend weekends with him he had no idea how to handle it. He didn't know what to do when I cried, or when I was scared. He'd just pat me on the head and hand me the remote of the TV or the game console of the Playstation he'd bought especially for my visits. Thankfully he knew how to cook, or I suspected I would've dined on MacDonalds and pizza takeout for all of my visiting weekends. I very well could've ended up a fat lonely kid.

I stopped expecting much from him, so it didn't surprise me that he was leaving just as soon as he'd arrived. Being alone with me would be way too much for him to handle. I suspected he didn't like being alone much anyway. He'd married Ginger only a year after divorcing my mom.

”Ginger and Heather send their love,” he said to me before kissing me on the forehead.

”Right. Thanks.” I knew that was a bunch of bulls.h.i.+t. Ginger was probably right this moment praying to almighty G.o.d that I never woke up. Then she could have Dad all to herself and never have to share him again, especially his money.

After he pushed through the curtain, my mom glanced at me. ”I won't be long.” She followed him through and I could hear them arguing all the way out the door.

”What's the matter with you, Charlie?”

”Hey, I told it how it is. Salem's a big girl. She can handle it.”

”How would you know how Salem is? You haven't seen her in like three months.”

As their voices trailed off, I nestled into the pillow and pulled the wool blanket up to my chin. My eyes were heavy but the last thing I wanted to do was go back to sleep. I'd slept long enough for my liking. But I couldn't deny I was still tired.

Yawning I glanced around the room looking for something to entertain me. There was no TV, I guess Mom couldn't afford that luxury, but I noticed a few of my books on a table in the corner and my Nintendo DS. If I could just reach them. Scooting to the side to the bed, I reached out with my arm to try and grab something, but every movement I made sent a new ripple of pain through me. Defeated, I settled back into the pillow just as a chill took hold of me.

I glanced at the window to the sunlight streaming in thinking maybe the weather had changed. It hadn't. Usually the bright suns.h.i.+ne made me feel warm and happy but instead a feeling of despair washed over me. Out of my peripheral a dark shadow crept across the floor, as if the sun was blocked by craggy looking clouds. But every time I turned my head I couldn't see the shape straight on. It disappeared into vapor. But it was there. I knew it was there.

An ominous feeling settled over me. Something bad was going to happen. The hairs on the back of my neck stirred. I couldn't shake the cold creeping sensation trailing up and down my back like spider's legs. A violent s.h.i.+ver racked my body and I tried to pull the blanket tighter.

I had a sense that dying had been the least of my worries. And that something worse was going to happen to me.

I watched the curtain hoping my mom would return, certain her presence would chase the menacing sensation away. But after ten minutes the curtain didn't part and I really had to use the bathroom.

Shucking the blankets off, I swung my legs around and set my feet onto the cold tiled floor. I sat for moment to gather my strength, then stood. My legs were a bit wobbly. Grabbing my buddy the IV pole, I pushed through the curtain and shuffled past the other bed-thankfully unoccupied at the moment-to the little bathroom in the corner of the room.

A cloying antiseptic smell hit my nose when I entered. I'd always hated that odor. It reminded me of the times I came to visit my grandpa before he died. It was supposed to be a clean sterile smell but it reminded me of death and decay. Probably not the response they were going for.

I quickly used the facilities, finding an amazing amount of relief in that one small thing, and then went to wash my hands. The water was cool and refres.h.i.+ng on my skin, and I bent low to splash some on my face careful of the IV stuck in the back of my hand. Maybe I could wash some of this fatigue and discomfort away.

Eyes closed, I reached blindly for the brown paper towels. Grabbing a few sheets I dabbed at my face, drying it as good as I could with the flimsy paper. I looked down to toss it in the trash can when something dotting the brown sheet caught my eye. I stared at the thick black substance stuck to the paper. Then I glanced up at the mirror over the sink.

I screamed.

My eyes were black like ink. Thick tarry tears streaked my cheeks. Shaking, I reached up and touched the dark lines with the tip of my finger. It was sticky like syrup as it transferred to my finger. Running the water scalding hot I rinsed it from my skin. I watched as it made a creepy black swirl going down the drain.

Leaning close to the mirror, I stared at my coaled eyes. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with me? Was it black blood coming out of my brain? When I looked deeply I saw that the iris and white part of my eye were now the same color as my pupil. And the thick substance draining from the sides were like tears, except I wasn't crying.

Heart racing and hands trembling I tried to make meaning out of what I was seeing. But how could I? It made no sense. There couldn't possibly be a medical reason for this. People's eyes just didn't turn jet black.

Turning the water on more, I dunked my head into the sink trying to get right under the spray from the tap. I kept my eyes open hoping to wash away the dark stain, hoping that my eyes would return to their original color. The doctor would never let me leave the hospital if I magically had solid black orbs rolling around in my head.

I kept under the water, rubbing and scrubbing, until I couldn't handle it any longer. Taking a deep breath, I looked up into the mirror. And almost screamed again.

They were still black, but now they were s.h.i.+ny as if I'd washed them squeaky clean. It was even stranger to see them sparkle in the low fluorescent light of the bathroom. The tar like streaks were gone, washed off, but that was about all that had changed.