Chapter 55
-Maya’s POV-
A wave of nausea rolled over me threatening to pull me under. The room spun, a dizzying carousel of white walls and blurry shapes. A cool hand settled on my forehead, a comforting anchor in the sea of disorientation. “Easy there,” a familiar voice murmured, laced with concern.
My eyelids fluttered open, battling the heaviness that threatened to keep them shut. Slowly, the blurry shapes merged into a face – Ivan’s face, filled with worry and a hint of relief. Relief washed over me, momentarily eclipsing the fear and pain that gnawed at the edges of my
consciousness.
“Ivan?” My voice was a dry rasp, barely audible even to my own ears. The memories, fragmented and terrifying, began to flood back–the crowded bar, Natalia’s mischievous grin, the squeal of tires, then… darkness.
Panic clawed its way up my throat. “What happened?” I croaked, the question a desperate plea for answers.
He held his hand up in a placating gesture, his grip firm yet gentle as he pushed me back down onto the bed. “Calm down, Amaya. It’s okay. You’re safe now”
Safe? That word felt foreign in my current state. “No, it’s not okay,” I insisted, my voice rising with a tremor. “Natalia… Sarah… Riley. What about them?” Images of their faces flashed in my mind–Sarah’s infectious laughter, Riley’s calm demeanor, Natalia’s fiery spirit.
“They’re fine,” He assured me, his voice a steady counterpoint to the storm brewing within me. “Everyone’s okay. Just relax. You need to
rest”
Relax? How could I possibly relax when my friends could be lying in similar beds, their bodies broken and bruised? The fear morphed into anger, a hot coal burning in my gut. “I need to see them,” I declared, pushing myself up in the bed, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to topple me over.
He reacted swiftly, his hand pressing against my shoulder. “Whoa, there. The doctor said you need to stay in bed for observation. They’ll be fine. They’re in the rooms next door.”
His words did little to quell the frantic energy coursing through me. “But what happened?” I demanded, my voice laced with a desperation! couldn’t control. “Where are we?”
Ivan sighed, a deep breath that spoke volumes about the worry he was trying to mask. “You got hit by a truck,” he admitted, his voice law. “Drunk driver. The cops are still piecing things together.”
My breath hitched in my throat. A drunk driver? The image of a car careening out of control filled my mind, the screech of metal on metal echoing in my ears. Relief battled with a fresh wave of terror. We were lucky- incredibly lucky – to be alive.
“Oh my god,” Images of mangled metal and shattered glass flickered behind my closed eyelids. The memory of the crash was a terrifying void, but the fear was real, raw, and terrifying.
A heavy silence de
