Into the Void

by Amanda Frame

  A middle-aged man in pale green scrubs and a white lab coat walked into the room. A lanyard around his neck held an ID badge that labeled him as Dr. Joesph Cavanaugh.

  “Hello Miss Flores, I’m Dr. Cavanaugh.” As I had noticed. And “Miss Flores”? Who says that? I was seventeen.

  “Uh, hi,” I said uncomfortably. I was aware again I was wearing next to nothing under the hospital gown. My clothes were in a clear plastic bag under my mom’s chair. I pulled the blanket up to my chest with my good arm.

  “So, we’ve decided to keep you overnight for observation. Your concussion is pretty serious, but luckily your CT scan shows no bleeding in your brain.” My eyes went wide, my sandpaper lids scraping over them. Bleeding in my brain? He said it so casually. Like a waiter telling me the specials on the menu. “We’ll repeat the scan tomorrow morning to double-check, and then we can release you.”

  “Okay,” I said automatically. My head felt foggy and I morbidly imagined it was because my skull was filling with blood and pushing on my brain. “What time is it?” I asked weakly.

  The doctor checked his watch. “4:30. I’ll be back in a little later to check on you.” He left.

  So, if I remembered correctly, I’d left school around, ten? Eleven? Something like that. So it had been several hours since the accident. Becca should be out of school by now. Did she know what happened? I told her I would text to let her know I was okay after my mini panic attack, or whatever it had been, at school. Did my mom know about that? Was she wondering why I had been driving away from school when I was supposed to be in class? I decided not to bring it up unless she did.

  Well, she did. “Why weren’t you at school?” my mom asked. She tried to hide her anger underneath a soothing voice, but I could tell she was mad. She was doing that thing where she pressed her lips together.

  “I was having a bad day, I felt like I needed to get away for a while. I was planning to go back to make fourth period.” That was a lie. I hadn’t planned on going back, but she couldn’t prove otherwise.

  “All right, I guess it’s water under the bridge at this point. We’re just happy you’re alive.” We? Where was Dad?

  “Can I check my phone? I promised Bec I would text her when I…was on my way back for fourth period.” My mom rummaged through the plastic bag under her seat. I could see the collar of Becca’s sweatshirt was bloody. She pulled my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and handed it to me.

  I had three texts from Becca. 12:02, Whats up? I hope u r feeling better. Text me. 1:36, Text me, I want to know ur ok. 3:07, What the hell Anna? u never take this long to get back to me! call me!

  I had three missed calls. Two from Becca, one from Aaron. Probably wondering why I missed practice. Just as I was about to dial Becca’s number before she had a stroke, my phone rang in my hand, the ringtone startling me. I jumped, so did my mom. It was Becca. I waited a second to answer, trying to think of what to say to her.

  “Hello?”

  “Anna! What the hell? I called you like six times!”

  “Only twice.”

  “Whatever, twice, then. I texted you a bunch of times, too! Why didn’t you get back to me? First you were all bitchy when you left and now, what? You aren’t talking to me or something?”

  “No, no, that’s not it. I…I was in a car accident. I’m at the hospital. Uh, Greenlake, I think.” My mom nodded, her chin resting on her hands, elbows propped on my bed.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?” I could hear the worry in her voice. She gets this shrill tone whenever she’s worried.

  “I guess, sort of.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.” She hung up without saying goodbye. I rolled my eyes. I hated being the center of attention. And now I was going to have to go back to school with a sling and probably a messed-up face. Oh, crap, I hadn’t considered what my face might look like.

  “Can I get up?” I asked. “I have to pee.” I didn’t really have to pee that bad. I just wanted to look in the mirror. My mom helped me to my feet. I was shaky. Luckily there was a bathroom attached to my room so I didn’t have to walk out in just a hospital gown with the anti-slip socks you see old people wearing. My mom escorted me to the bathroom by my left elbow.

  “Do you need me to help you?”

  “Mom! I think I can pee by myself, thanks.”

  She threw up her arms defensively and sat back in her chair.

  I opened the bathroom door. I was dizzy and kind of afraid of falling over, but I wasn’t going to let my mom watch me pee. The bathroom had those rails for handicapped people, so I used them to help me shuffle over to the mirror. The bathroom was dimly lit but I could make out my face well enough to groan aloud. The bridge of my nose and under my eyes was bruised. From slamming my head on the steering wheel, maybe? My hair was crusted with dried blood and there was a bandage on the right side of my forehead. I lifted it carefully and leaned in toward the mirror. I had a gash about two inches long that looked like a backslash extending into my hairline. I could make out ten stitches. Damn it. That was going to be a nasty scar. Very Harry Potter-esque. How would I look with bangs?

  “Are you okay in there?” my mom called.

  “Fine!” I pressed the bandage back on delicately, wincing. The handicapped bars allowed me to maneuver over to the toilet. I did my business and hobbled out of the bathroom. Just as I was coming out, my dad barged in.

  “What happened? Oh my God, you look awful!” Gee, thanks.

  “Steven! That’s not what she needs to hear right now!”

  He wrapped me in a painful hug. I tried not to cry out. He helped me back to bed and sat down on the edge. He was wearing a shirt and tie; he must have just left work. Becca came storming in a moment later. She had obviously been nearby when she called me.

  “Oh Anna! You look like crap!” She threw her pink backpack on the floor with a thud and rushed over to the bed, leaving me to endure another painful hug.

  “Okay, everyone stop hugging me. Broken ribs, remember?” She gave me an apologetic look and opened her mouth to say something, but my mom cut in before she had a chance.

  “Rebecca, how did you get in here?”

  “Oh, I uh, said I was her sister.”

  “Wow, security is pretty lax around here,” I said. Becca and I looked nothing alike. My mom gave her an incredulous look.

  Exhaustedly, I told the three of them about the accident, or at least my recollection of it. Almost rear-ending someone after traffic came to a halt suddenly, then someone rear-ending me. Then getting hit again, I think because someone crashed into the car that had hit me. Getting helped out of my car by two guys who had to practically rip my driver’s side door off…shit, my car!

  “My car! How is it?” I could most definitely not afford another car. Every penny from my summer job last year went into buying it.

  My mom gave me a sympathetic look. “I didn’t see it myself, but the doctor told me that the paramedics said it was completely totaled.” I groaned and hung my head forward, causing a twinge in my neck. Totaled. The exact word I had been dreading.

  The paramedics. I vaguely remember being taken away in an ambulance. “Was anyone badly hurt?” My chest felt tight. I knew the accident wasn’t my fault, but I would feel awful if someone had been badly injured, or died.

  “A few other people are in the hospital, but I think everyone is stable,” my dad answered.

  “How do you know?” I asked skeptically, afraid he was just trying to put my mind at ease.

  “It’s on the news already,” he answered. “I heard it on the radio on the way over here.” Fantastic.

  “Yeah, me too,” Becca said, tears in her eyes. “They made it sound really bad. Like really bad. Seven cars were involved, multiple people in the hospital. No one was killed.” She hiccupped a bit on the word “killed,” trying to hold back her tears.

  “Oh, Bec, don’t cry. I’m okay.” I tried to sound convincing. I was okay…ish.

  The four of us sat in an awkward silence. “
Rebecca, you should probably go home; your parents will worry.” That was my mom’s not-so-subtle way of telling her to leave. Becca wrung her hands and gave me one last concerned look.

  “All right,” she said, “call me later, ’kay?”

  “I will,” I assured her. She squeezed my hand and walked out, grabbing her backpack off the floor, and gave my parents a tiny wave.

  I stayed overnight in the hospital. My mom slept in the chair next to my bed even though I told her she could go home. My dad went back to work. I didn’t fall asleep till the early morning. My head hurt and I couldn’t find a comfortable position because of my arm. Breathing was painful due to the broken ribs. Eventually, I fell into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.

  In the morning, I got another CT scan of my brain and the doctor said I had a concussion, but there still wasn’t any sign of bleeding so I was free to go home. He said to follow up with my primary care doctor in a week to get new x-rays of all my broken parts.

  Yesterday had felt so surreal. Too many weird things happening in the same day. I guess “weird” wasn’t the right word for a panic attack, concussion, and broken bones.

  I flopped down on the couch, forgetting about my injuries for a moment, and felt a burning pain radiate through my chest and up my shoulder. I sucked air through my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut.

  For a moment, I had the strange sensation that there was no longer a couch underneath me, like I was sitting on air. The room around me was hazy when I opened my eyes, textures and colors faded and details missing.

  “What…?” I whispered, but it faded before I was sure I had actually seen it at all. I shook my head, deciding to take a nap and sleep off the odd feeling. Pain can cause strange things.

  CHAPTER 4

  ANNA

  He hadn’t seen her in a few weeks. He was worried. He could feel that something had happened. Just hopefully not what he had been fearing for the last six years. Please, not yet. Not ever.

  ~

  I didn’t go back to school until the following Monday. I was still in a sling and my black eyes were fading to a greenish-yellow. Of course, the news about me being in the accident on 1-4 had spread through the school like wildfire. I hadn’t ever been high on the social radar, but now the whole school knew I had been in “the accident.” I could hear whispers about me in the hallways and the cafeteria. Rumors that I’d caused the accident, or that I almost died, or even that I killed someone, floated around the school. I ignored it all the best I could.

  I was more concerned that I still had a headache and occasionally my vision would…dull. I couldn’t think of a better word for it. Like the world around me would lose its vibrancy and detail. It was the same thing that had happened to me the morning I got home from the hospital. I wasn’t sure why I was afraid to tell anyone. I mean, I should tell the doctor, right?

  My worry was distracting, and I wasn’t looking where I was going. Someone slammed into my shoulder. Pain shot down my arm and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. I stumbled and dropped by backpack.

  “Crap, my bad!” A guy bent down to help me pick up my stuff.

  “It’s fine,” I mumbled, standing awkwardly while he gathered my stuff off the floor. It was Brian Wilkes, Becca’s cousin, a guy who would have never talked to me in any other situation. In fact, if I hadn’t been so pathetic looking, with my black eyes and broken arm, he probably wouldn’t even have stopped to offer “my bad”. Who says that anymore, anyway?

  Brian was on the football team, stereotypical jock, and was supposedly going to University of Central Florida on a scholarship to be a linebacker or something. I avoided eye contact and my cheeks flushed as he handed me my backpack. “Um, thanks,” I said sheepishly.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, sorry again. About the accident, too.”

  Trying to ignore the sharp pain that still radiated from shoulder to elbow, I decided to try to hide my embarrassment by making confident eye contact. I regretted it immediately. Brian’s face withered before my eyes and the other students faded from existence. The floor beneath Brian’s feet peeled and browned, the lockers rusted and doors fell off hinges.

  I froze, unable to tear my eyes away from Brian’s emaciated body, his face pockmarked and blue eyes cloudy and red-rimmed. My breathing quickened and I stared at Brian with wild eyes. As suddenly as it had come, the world returned to focus.

  It was gone. The hallway looked normal. Dented, blue metal lockers lined the hall and the floor was white tile, speckled with black flecks. A few students jogged past, trying to beat the bell to class. I stared at Brian, trying to calm my breathing. It wasn’t real. I imagined it. My head hurts and it’s messing with me.

  Brian started to shuffle his feet uncomfortably. “Well, see ya,” he said awkwardly, and headed down the hall to class. Some of his buddies fell into step beside him. Brian shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at me, then turned back quickly when he saw me still staring at him.

  I walked quickly to class, Economics, slipping in right after the late bell. Normally, Mrs. Langley would scold anyone who was late, but she let me slide, my pathetic face coming in handy. I dropped my backpack on the floor next to the last empty desk in the room. It landed with a thud. I sank into the seat of the desk, bowing my head and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, since half the class was staring at me. It wasn’t real. I imagined it. Wasn’t real.

  I heard nothing Mrs. Langley said the entire class, took no notes, didn’t even open my textbook. I just stared at my hands in my lap and tried to forget the image of Brian’s skeletal doppelganger. Okay. I had a concussion. That can probably make me hallucinate or something. Convincing myself wasn’t easy, but eventually I was partially consoled by my self-diagnosis.

  The rest of the day dragged. I walked through the halls methodically, in zombie mode. I was startled when Becca fell into stride with me.

  “Ready to go?” she asked. I had hardly registered that school was over. Becca had agreed to drive me to and from school until I got another car. I had told her I could just take the bus, but she said that was lame and insisted on driving me. She only lived a few streets away, so it wasn’t inconvenient for her.

  I pulled a candy wrapper out from under my butt and threw it on the floor of the car, hoping I hadn’t gotten chocolate on my pants.

  “Uh, yeah, sorry about all the shit in here, I’ve been meaning to clean it,” Becca said sheepishly. I didn’t say anything. “Brian asked me to ask if you were okay. He said he bumped into you today?” she said as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I little achy, I guess. I thought you didn’t talk to him much.”

  “I don’t, but he’s a nice guy and seemed genuinely concerned, and I think probably felt awkward talking to you.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess.” Everyone was being weird around me. Apparently even guys I never talked to. I tried to keep thoughts of Brian away, not wanting to picture what had happened in the hallway. It wasn’t real.

  I stared at my feet for the rest of the ride and was startled when Becca pulled into my driveway. My ribs burned when I pushed open the car door.

  “See you tomorrow,” Becca said in a concerned tone.

  “See ya,” I called back, already halfway to my front door. I dropped my backpack on the ground and fished out my keys. The door creaked when it opened.

  “Hello?” I called as I shut the door behind me. Neither one of my parents were home, but I hadn’t expected them to be. I went straight to the fridge and grabbed a soda. I always loved the sound of a soda can opening. The snap of the tab and the whoosh as the air escapes. I walked into the living room with my soda and flopped on the couch, its soft cushions relieving some of my tension. The TV couldn’t hold my attention like I was hoping it would. I just wanted to drown in some crappy sitcom reruns, but I couldn’t seem to shake the bizarre day I’d had.

  Frustrated, I shut off the TV and delved into a magazine, the first one within reach. Eventually I fell asleep,
having dreams about walking through a desert filled with my classmates, all of them looking like skin stretched over bones. They begged me to help them, so they wouldn’t end up like this. But I didn’t know how, so I walked among them while they screamed in anguish.

  I was startled awake by the front door opening and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to erase the nightmare. My phone said the time was 6:34. It was probably my dad. Mom was working second shift again, so she wouldn’t be home till after 11pm.

  “Anna? You home?” my dad called. The front door clicked shut and I cleared my throat before answering,

  “Yeah, in the living room.”

  “I brought home some pizza. Come eat.” It smelled delicious. Please be pepperoni and onion.

  I grabbed another soda from the fridge and savored the two seconds of snap, whoosh. My dad pulled out a few paper plates and we sat down at the table together. He opened the box. Sausage. Meh.

  Conversation was awkward. I didn’t get much alone time with my dad; he was always working. He was a pretty popular attorney. His law firm had a few billboards plastering the highway. He asked me questions about my day. I gave one word answers and picked at the sausage on my pizza.

  My dad’s phone buzzed in his pocket and I could tell he was just itching to check it. “It’s fine, Dad. I know work is important.” He gave me a grateful smile and checked his phone. His smile faded as he squinted at the phone, responding to an email or text with deft fingers. I just watched, waiting for him to finish.

  My head was starting to throb, maybe from the bright light directly overhead. I squinted my eyes and tried to blink the pain away. When I opened them, the room around me had dulled, like I was looking at a faded photograph. I glanced over at my dad and his mouth was still moving but no sound came out. He was ghostly and transparent, like an astral form that had left its body somewhere else.

  It scared the shit out of me.