by Annette Mori
Back of the Book
How much does the power of love matter to someone who has overcome obstacles greater than most people face in a lifetime?
Carly, a beautiful and vivacious young woman, sees something in the semi-comatose Belinda and they form an unusual bond.
Can Carly help Belinda break free from her emotional prison? Will Belinda’s fears allow their relationship to evolve into something deeper?
Find out in this wonderfully evocative romance that is sure to touch your heart.
Locked Inside
© by Annette Mori 2015
Affinity E-Book Press NZ LTD.
Canterbury, New Zealand
1st Edition
ISBN: ePUB: 978-0-908351-21-3
ISBN: PDF: 978-0-908351-22-0
ISBN: PRC: 978-0-908351-23-7
All rights reserved.
No part of this eBook may be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author and publisher. Please note that piracy of copyrighted materials violate the author’s rights and is illegal.
This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Nat Burns
Proof Editor: Alexis Smith
Cover Design: Irish Dragon Designs
Acknowledgments
Probably the most important person to acknowledge, besides my wife and my growing fan base, is Erin O’Reilly, because she believed in this book from the very start and continues to encourage me and assist with my growth as a writer. Erin spent a lot of time reviewing each chapter as I wrote it and giving insightful feedback about how to make the story better. When I got stuck, she brainstormed with me a way to get unstuck with the plotline. She helped me plug holes and address other issues that were inconsistent to the character and story. Erin always gives freely of her time and expertise. I am honored to call her a friend and loved having a chance to meet her in person at GCLS.
I would also like to express my gratitude to Affinity Press and the wonderful trio (JM Dragon, Erin O'Reilly and Nancy Kaufman) who continue to support this new and somewhat unconventional writer. I am eternally grateful for the opportunities they give me to let my stories see the light of day.
On my journey, I elicited help from my older sister, Val, who gave me valuable feedback that helped shape the final version of the story. She continues to be an incredible encouragement to me. My other beta reader and favorite fan, Gail Dodge, continues to be one of my strongest supporters. She is the sweetest person and one of the first people to let me know how much she liked my writing. My other family members, who were also very supportive, include my nephew, Aaron, and his wife, Chelsea, and my little sister, Kim.
On more than one occasion, I heard my mother's voice in my ear. Although books always need editing, Mom gave me a good baseline education for which I am eternally grateful. Although my mom is no longer with us, I am sure she would have loved this book because she was an incredibly accepting and empathetic woman.
Kay Carney is always a delight to work with as my beta editor. Nat Burns did her magic again as the final editor. Inevitably there are those pesky final errors that slip through and I am thankful that the final proof editor, Alexis Smith, caught those before the book went to print.
Nancy Kaufman is a rock star with her covers and this one is definitely hot. Nancy also is a promoter extraordinaire, in addition to her wonderful covers. There are also numerous others, including some of the Affinity writers who continue to show their support by sharing posts and sending words of encouragement. I want to send a special shout out to Jen Silver, Rosie Moore, KA Moll and Ali Spooner who go way beyond in their support.
A huge thanks to all the other readers who have sent personal e-mails, written reviews and posted nice things on Facebook (you know who you are). Finally, my wife, Jody, continues her support even when it interferes with our weekend time.
Dedication
To all the readers who took a chance on me and bought my first three books. To all those individuals out there who struggle with debilitating illnesses or injuries—your strength is inspiring to all. I am calling out one of those special individuals—Katie this is for you. To my wife, who I love dearly, for her patience when I get in a groove and ignore her during what should be our time together.
Also by Annette Mori
Out of This World
Asset Management
The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Elves in Love
(Affinity 2014 Christmas Collection)
Love Forever, Live Forever
The True Story of Valentine’s Day
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
Other Affinity eBooks
Chapter One
Fall of 2008
Awareness came slowly to me, as the blanket of fog, smothering intelligence, rolled back. I imagined an intricate spider web in my head, tangled with fine silk strands. Wonder Woman was slicing through them like an adventurer hacking through a jungle.
I was still confused about where I was when I heard giggling. At first, I thought my sisters were invading my sacred space.
“Shhh, come in here and tell me every little detail,” a girl’s voice said.
“I don’t think we should be in here, Tammie. We’re supposed to be doing our volunteer hours, not screwing around in a resident’s room,” a different voice huffed.
I opened my eyes and a fuzzy picture began to emerge. Two strange teenage girls were huddled in the corner of a foreign room with sterile white walls. I wasn’t in my bedroom at home and I began to panic.
It's probably hard for people to truly appreciate the terror that I experienced at this particular moment in my life. I had no idea where I was, who these strangers were, or what had happened to me. I would later discover that I'd lost six years of my life while hovering in a semi-comatose state. They never did figure out the origin of the illness or why I went into a coma and by the time I showed any awareness, six years had passed and my family had accepted the original prognosis that I would never recover.
The tall, skinny one with red hair shrugged. “Don’t be such a tight ass, Carly.” She pointed in my direction and giggled. “She’ll never tell.”
“That’s just mean.”
“What? She’s a vegetable, but right now she’s kinda creeping me out. Look, her eyes are open and it’s almost like she’s listening to every word we say,” the redhead blurted out.
The other one looked at me and frowned. “I think we’re upsetting her. She’s breathing really heavy now and I think she can hear us. Something is wrong. She looks terrified.”
I was trying to move my head, my arms, my legs, an
ything, but none of my body parts would cooperate with me. I felt my breathing quicken and I desperately wanted to communicate with them. I wanted to know where I was and why I couldn’t talk or move.
“She does look kind of agitated, Carly. Maybe we should get your mom.”
They left the room and I tried to move my head. I managed to move it a couple of inches as I took in my surroundings. I was able to shift my eyes from side to side as I noticed a TV mounted high on the wall in the center of the room and a single bed with a simple nightstand on my right. It looked like a typical hospital room, but I wasn’t positive. In my mind, I was still ten years old and my parents were nowhere to be found. I wanted my mom. I wanted reassurance that everything would be okay.
I heard the click click click of heels on the linoleum floor and watched as an attractive dark- haired woman entered the room. She had a stethoscope draped around her neck and one of the teenagers followed her into the room. They had similar features and I wondered if she was the mom the redhead referred to earlier.
“I’m sorry, Mom, Tammie dragged me in here. I didn’t mean to upset the patient but she looked like she was trying to say something. Her breathing got kinda fast like she was having a panic attack or something,” the young woman confessed.
Well, that answered that mystery for me. The beautiful girl must have been the one the redhead, Tammie, called Carly. As each minute passed, I was becoming more aware of my surroundings and I was working to remember little details like the names of the young girls.
“Carly, it’s not like you to get sucked into Tammie’s harebrained ideas. I taught you better than that. Belinda is a very special case, but I don’t think she actually heard you or that you upset her in any way. She’s been completely unresponsive for nearly six years. Unfortunately, her illness caused severe brain damage.”
“I know she reacted to something,” Carly insisted.
“Okay, let me check her out.”
The woman grabbed her stethoscope and I felt her hands push aside my clothing as she placed the silver end on my chest. Her hands were gentle, but the stethoscope was cold and I must have had some small reaction—although it didn’t feel like any part of my body would obey.
“I’m sorry, Belinda, did you feel that?” she asked.
Carly stepped up to the bedside and I could feel her touch my hand.
I looked down at my curled up hand, which resembled some kind of deformed claw.
“My mom’s a doctor. She won’t hurt you,” Carly soothed.
Since I wasn’t able to move any part of my body but my eyes and my head in incremental movements, I concentrated all my energy on letting them know there was someone locked inside this useless body. I wasn’t a vegetable.
“Hmmm, in all the years I’ve looked in on Belinda, she’s never reacted like this. She does respond to certain stimuli. We’ve always been able to feed her as long as someone touches her lips first. This is new, though. Her heart rate does appear to be elevated and there is definite movement in her eyes. Perhaps she is reacting to your voice.”
Yes. It was a start. I had to find a way to communicate and let them know I was aware and present. My instinct for survival and Carly’s soothing presence was enough to tamp down the initial terror I felt. Everything was still too new for me to truly experience the first stage in the grief process. That would come later and didn’t last long. I’d always been a practical child. It didn’t serve a useful purpose to deny my limitations, so I didn’t remain in denial for very long.
Elisabeth Kubler Ross’s five stages of grief don’t just occur when someone experiences the death of a loved one—a significant loss in one’s life can certainly trigger that grief process, as well. I’d lost my childhood and during the next several years, I spent various amounts of time in almost every stage—denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
“Can I read to her or something, instead of the other duties the volunteers do? Please, Mom. You just said that maybe she reacts to my voice. I want to help,” Carly begged.
“We’ll see. I need to make sure that would be okay with everyone, but it may be beneficial to Belinda. I don’t want Tammie in this room though—she doesn’t have the same altruistic motives that you have.”
“Aw, Tammie’s okay, she just wanted to get the scoop on my date last night. She was way more excited about it than I was and I still don’t see what’s the big flippin’ deal. I’m not even sure I want to go out with him again.”
“Why not? Isn’t he the heartthrob of your school or something—captain of the football team and good looking by teenager standards? He seemed like a nice boy. Anyone who can put up with your father’s twenty questions can’t be all bad.”
“He is nice, but I just don’t get that excited feeling that I’m supposed to when I’m around him. It feels more like I went out with my brother. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Tammie says the same thing—that I’m the luckiest girl in school since he picked me.”
“You have plenty of time to find the right one. I thought your dad was the biggest dork the first time I went out with him. I only went on a second date because I felt sorry for him and then he kind of grew on me.”
As mother and daughter had their little heart to heart conversation, I felt like an inanimate object. Something in the background that no one noticed unless someone pointed it out as if they were giving a tour of their house. I wanted Carly to stay and talk to me or read to me, but she left with her mother and I remained alone in an empty room void of any stimulation. I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up a mental picture of my family. I wondered where they were. The woman said I’d been unresponsive for six years. I wondered what had happened in those years. Was it only six years? Or was that merely the amount of time she’d worked here? Even if it was only six years, I was now sixteen years old. I’d already missed more than a third of my life. I had to find a way to break free of this prison because that’s what it felt like—a prison.
Chapter Two
I should probably remember every detail of the day it all began, but I don’t. I suppose that is what happens when you lose a big chunk of your life to a mysterious illness. What I do remember is feeling a bit under the weather.
“Mama, I don’t feel so good,” I had whined that fall of 2002.
I only called my mom mama when I was extremely sick.
Mom stopped kneading bread dough, washed her hands, and walked to me. She pressed her hand against my forehead. “Hmmm, you don’t have a fever. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know. I just have a funny feeling inside,” I replied.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap. Your father won’t be home for a few hours anyway. Maybe you’ll feel better after you rest up.”
I nodded and trudged up the stairs. Whatever was happening to my body was unsettling. I was one of those kids who rarely missed school. I remember being relatively athletic. I loved recess and could kick the ball farther than most of the boys. I felt a considerable amount of pride about the fact that I was always the first girl picked for kickball.
I remember being so tired that day. I thought a quick nap would help and I’d be back to my rambunctious self in no time.
I crawled into my double bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.
Chewbacca, my cat, jumped up on the bed and poked his nose on my hand until I lifted the covers for him to crawl inside. “Come on, you big baby, hurry up and get settled.” I turned him around so that his tail wasn’t swishing against my cheek. “Geez, Chewy, I’d rather not have your butt in my face.”
“Meow,” was his response.
I pulled him close and let him nuzzle his nose into my neck as we settled in for a nap.
I loved snuggling with my cat, especially on those rare occasions when I wasn’t feeling well. I thought that cats had some kind of special talent to know exactly when their owners needed them. I definitely needed him that day.
The next morning, I remember feeling as thou
gh my arms and legs weighed three thousand pounds. I struggled to get up and use the bathroom.
The soup Mom had brought the previous evening lay untouched on my night stand.
I glanced at the soup and felt a small amount of guilt for not taking a single bite after Mom lovingly made it for me. For a fleeting minute, I thought about taking the dish back down to the kitchen, but I was exhausted. I crawled back under the covers and promptly fell back to sleep.
Sometime later, I woke up to Mom’s warm caress across my forehead. A gray haze seemed to fall across my eyes. I felt like I was in a dream state and couldn’t get my arms or legs to cooperate as I tried to navigate the thick fog of semi-consciousness.
“What time is it?” I croaked.
Mom’s face scrunched up. “It’s a little past four. You’ve been asleep all day. If you don’t feel better by tomorrow, it’s off to the doctor.” She put her hand up. “No arguments, Belinda. I don’t care if we have to wait three hours, you’re going.”
I was too weak to protest. “Okay, Mom.”
“I brought you some more soup, since I noticed you didn’t touch any of the soup from last night. Please try to eat a little bit for me.”
I struggled to sit up and nodded. My arms felt like lead, but I managed to force a couple spoonfuls of soup in my mouth. It wasn’t very appetizing, but I made myself eat it all so that Mom would stop looking so concerned.
“That’s my good girl.” Mom pushed back a lock of my hair.
I realized I hadn’t showered or brushed my teeth for more than twenty-four hours.
“Mom, I want to take a shower. Maybe that will make me feel better.”
“Let me help you. I don’t want you passing out in the shower.”
I couldn’t ever remember feeling so out of whack. I was thankful that Mom helped me shower, because I honestly think I wouldn’t have been able to stand up on my own. The built in ledge in the shower helped. As Mom tenderly washed my hair, I thought about how lucky I was to have a loving family. I knew kids, whose parents had divorced, who were pawns in a grown up tug of war. Sometimes my sisters bugged me, but we were a happy, loving, family and I felt blessed. I told myself that as soon as I felt better, I would make sure to let my family know how much I loved them.