Dead Silence

by K. G. Reuss

  “Are you an angel?” I choked out, still not sure if this was real or just in my head. I’d read that when people died, their synapses fired off randomly making them think they were seeing things they weren’t. Maybe that was what was happening. Maybe death was just a conversation with the unknown—one only I could hold in that moment, until my heart made its final bow out of those painful last moments.

  “Definitely not an angel,” I could hear the sadness in his voice before he spoke again. “I’m your only hope—your last hope. This will change everything and for that I am sorry. If you want this, if you want life and what this moment means, then breathe for me, Ever. Don’t stop once you start. I’ll be weakened until you awaken and won’t be able to help you.”

  I wanted to live. Consequences be damned. And in that moment, I’d have done whatever he asked me to do. I pulled in the painful breath he instructed me to—the ache a searing, tearing pain within me as the oxygen burned through my body. The air ignited a completely different fire within me—a tiny spark of life. I pulled in another breath and another, my eyes locked on his.

  A shock shuddered throughout my body, and my heart stuttered in my chest once again. Shadow remained focused on me. The mesmerizing depths of his red eyes were endless. While they were terrifying, there was also peace and safety within the pools of hot lava. I wanted to fall into those bright eyes and stay hidden there forever. They were beautifully frightening with a mirror of my pain shining in them. He felt everything I felt. I could sense that from him, and that made me hurt even more because something deep within me was changing. It was morphing into something I’d never be able to come back from—and neither would he. He was right. This was going to change everything. The change was blanketing me, flowing through me, connecting me to him with an unbreakable link that we’d never be able to escape from.

  “Breathe,” he murmured fiercely. His now trembling hand was still on my chest spreading warmth. Another shock. Another thud in my chest. Voices murmured in the distance. The blackness was receding. “Keep breathing, Everly. Breathe for me.”

  “Who are you?” I called out again, frantically wanting a name before he disappeared.

  “I-I am everything we both fear,” his voice was laced with pain as he said the words. I watched in horror as his brilliant red eyes closed, and he let out a shuddering breath, his black form crumpling to the ground beside me.

  Chapter Six

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The incessant noise grew louder. Maybe I was late for school. I wanted to reach for my alarm and shut it off, but I couldn’t seem to get my arms to move. A white-hot pain seared through my body as I attempted to shift in bed. Something thick and heavy dug into my throat making me wince.

  As I realized I couldn’t breathe on my own, panic set in. Something was wedged deep within my throat. I struggled to open my eyes. My body aches became more pronounced.

  “Ever, sweetheart,” An unfamiliar female voice called out to me. “Hon, stay calm, OK? There’s a tube in your throat helping you breathe. The doctor is coming to take it out. I’m going to give you a shot. It’s going to make you feel sleepy. Stay calm. Your mom is on her way.”

  Moments later, I fought to keep my eyes open with the nurse’s words on repeat in my mind.

  A tube was breathing for me? What the hell had happened?

  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t overcome the drugs flowing through my veins. Everything faded away into the distance again, my memory wiped clean of whatever had happened to me.

  I wasn’t sure of the time, but when I woke up, sunlight streamed through my window. I stared around blearily, my body hurting and my mind in overdrive as I tried to replay the events leading up to that moment.

  “Everly?” my mom called out, her voice choked up as she clutched my hand.

  “Mom?” I croaked, my voice hoarse and my throat tender as I strained to get the words out.

  “Oh, mija!” she cried, leaning over and kissing my face. “Thank God! I thought I’d lost you. My sweet, sweet girl.” Her tears were damp on my cheek as she pulled away and gazed down at me fondly. Her large doe eyes wavered with a fresh swell of sadness.

  “What happened? Why do I hurt? Where am I?”

  “You don’t remember?” her voice was quiet. I peered out at her from beneath my thick lashes, my head aching, my brows crinkled in confusion and fear.

  “Mom, I’m scared. What’s going on?”

  “Sweetie, you were in an accident. You were hurt. You-you were unconscious and your heart—it wasn’t beating the way it should.” her voice was barely above a whisper, as fresh tears flowed down her cheeks. “I thought I was going to lose you. Forever. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  Her words engulfed me like a summer heat—heavy and stifling, the kind of heat that creates nausea. As I fidgeted slightly, a pain snaked its way into my side. A memory nagged at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t get it to come into focus.

  “I almost died?” I whispered huskily. My heart beat frantically in my chest at the news.

  “Yes, baby.” Mom sniffled. “Don’t try to move, OK? You have broken ribs and a fractured ankle.”

  “Broken ribs and fractured ankles don’t nearly kill people,” my voice low as I winced painfully.

  “No, but the trauma from getting hit by a car can cause the body a great deal of pain—and in some cases, even stop the heart from beating,” a deep voice cut into our conversation. A middle-aged man stepped into the room. His salt and pepper hair was combed back from his forehead and a gentle smile graced his face. “Everly, I’m Dr. Sanders.”

  I looked up at him and gave him my best smile, which felt more like a painful grimace as my ribs spasmed.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, coming to stand beside my bed. His brows knitted as he looked down at me, cataloguing my reactions.

  “Like I was hit by a truck,” I muttered, wincing as my muscles gave another painful spasm.

  “That’s pretty accurate. It was actually an SUV.” Dr. Sanders gave me a kind smile and his eyes twinkled with humor despite the somberness of the conversation. “By all accounts, you shouldn’t be here with us right now. You were nearly dead when responders got there. Without their prompt response and a miracle, you’d be gone.”

  I swallowed thickly at his words. A dark memory prodded me in the back of my mind. There was more to this miracle of life. I frowned as I tried to remember, but my head throbbed, making me wince.

  I almost died. I should be dead.

  I couldn’t stop the words from repeating in my mind.

  “H-how is Dylan?” I whispered, remembering he’d been there with me.

  “Dylan is fine,” Mom assured me, her voice filled with disdain. “He wasn’t injured.”

  I tried to wipe at my tears, but failed. My arm had an IV in it and was wrapped heavily. My mom dabbed at my cheeks for me, her touch tender and loving. I looked down at my other arm and noticed a brace on it. I took a quick survey of my body and noted my leg was wrapped too. I had faint, fading bruises on my arms. My heart flip flopped in my chest.

  “What day is it?”

  “Ever, honey—” my mom started.

  “Elena.” Dr. Sanders said gently to her.

  “I-I… OK,” she sighed, resigned, and nodded to Dr. Sanders. “Tell her all of it.”

  “Everly,” Dr. Sanders turned back to face me and pulled a chair up next to my bed. The scraping noise as the legs slid over the floor made me cringe. “You suffered a traumatic brain injury. In fact, we didn’t even have any brain activity on you at first. You sitting here talking to us, well frankly, is a miracle. Truly. You’ve been in a coma for nearly two weeks.”

  “I didn’t think you were coming back, sweetheart,” my mom choked out, cutting in. “I-I almost let you go.” She broke into tears, her small frame shaking uncontrollably. Dr. Sanders reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t want you to suffer.”

  “Mom,” I murmured, a
s their words settled like a heavy weight on my chest. “It’s OK. I understand.” My eyelids were heavy, and I was hurting. Dr. Sanders took note of it and pulled a syringe out of his pocket and inserted it into my IV.

  “I’ll have pain meds ordered for you. You’ll be able to simply push a button if you need them,” he said gently, pulling the syringe out of the line. “I’ll have some more tests ordered. I want to check your bloodwork again and do some scans. If everything looks good, we can start looking at getting you out of here. How does that sound?”

  “Good,” I think I said as my eyes fell closed.

  Maybe I’d only thought it, though since I didn’t remember hearing an answer.

  Chapter Seven

  The weeks passed in a blur. Dr. Sanders insisted on keeping me in the hospital a little longer than expected due to the severity of my injuries. My mom came up from the emergency room and saw me whenever she had a spare moment. I’d refused to move too much that week. The pain wasn’t horrendous, but it wasn’t great. Each breath made me ache. Each hobble on my feet made me whimper. Each cough made my head feel like it was going to explode. Through it all, I was grateful. It could’ve been worse. I could be dead.

  I’d made it to the bathroom and that was about the extent of my movements. I guess it was too much to ask to simply go from being unconscious for almost two weeks to being healed. My whole body seemed to have reserved all the pain so I wouldn’t miss out on it. In addition to my fractured ankle, broken leg, broken arm, broken ribs, and brain injury—which didn’t really feel like an injury aside from the headaches—my lungs had collapsed, my liver had been lacerated, and my skull had been fractured. And, of course, there were countless other small things like cuts and bruises.

  My face was still puffy and the ugly purple bruises had faded into a yellow color. I’d had staples on my forehead by my hairline because apparently, the skin had torn when I smashed my head on the pavement. I made sure to have my mother keep mirrors away from me. They made me uncomfortable. And it wasn’t just because I could see myself in them. It was something else, something I didn’t want to say out loud.

  My mom had brought me makeup in case I wanted to fix myself up. At first, the idea sounded good because I wanted to feel normal again. But the moment I opened the compact mirror, I could’ve sworn I was looking in a dark tunnel through the mirror. A man waited at the end of it, shrouded in shadows. I’d gulped, slamming the compact shut, and hadn’t opened it since. I’d much rather look like I’d run headlong into a brick wall than be creeped out.

  I’d been contemplating that maybe the brain injury I’d suffered had made me wonky in the head, when there was a soft knock on my door. When I looked over, Nina stood timidly in the doorway, with her large, blue eyes peering at me nervously.

  “Nina?” I asked sitting up, surprised to see her. My mom said she’d stopped by to see me in the beginning before, when they thought I wasn’t going to make it. Nina had broken down and her mom and dad had to practically carry her out of the room. I wasn’t even sure if she knew I was awake. I hadn’t bothered to call her to let her know it was safe to see me now, mostly because I didn’t think I’d be good company considering I was stuck in a hospital room looking like I’d just gone ten rounds with a world heavy weight boxing champ.

  “Hey, Ever.” She cleared her throat as she stepped into the room. Her eyes darted around, taking in all the machines still in the room before landing back on me.

  “Come here,” I motioned her to me, giving her an encouraging smile and wincing as I tried to sit up further. She was a welcome distraction since all I had at the moment were terrifying thoughts about seeing things that weren’t there.

  She walked to the side of my bed and a tear slipped down her cheek. Her long, dark lashes blinked rapidly to hold back the damn that was fit to burst.

  “How are you doing?” she asked, her voice cracking as she sniffled.

  “Well, I pretty much died,” I chuckled softly, forcing a smile to my face. “Other than that, not bad.”

  “Oh, Ever.” She flopped down in the chair beside my bed and held my hand. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t made you come out with me, none of this would have happened.”

  “Nina, it’s not your fault.” I frowned at her feeling guilty. “Don’t blame yourself, OK? Besides, I’m fine. See?” I wiggled the fingers on my good hand.

  “I didn’t—I couldn’t—even come see you. The one time I was here, I freaked out. I thought you were going to die. Everyone said you almost had and that your mom was going to have to pull your life support. I-I’m the worst friend, Everly.” The dam finally gave way, and her tears poured down her cheeks. She hastily wiped them away—her nose red, her mascara now smudged.

  “You’re not the worst friend. Not even close.” I gave her hand a tiny squeeze. “Don’t beat yourself up, Nina. I’m fine. Really. I’m not mad at you. I’ve missed you.”

  “Really?” she sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

  “Really,” I assured her, giving her the best smile I could muster. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you when I woke up. I-I just didn’t really want anyone to see me like this.”

  “I understand.” She wiped at her eyes again, smudging her makeup further. “Your mom told my mom the day you woke up. I had to work up the courage to come see you.”

  “All is forgiven. I promise.” I gave a big yawn, my eyelids heavy. I didn’t want to fall asleep, so I had to keep the conversation going. “How is everyone?”

  “You were really big news there for a while.” She smiled sheepishly at me. “Everyone at school was talking about you. Here,” she released my hand and pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of my locker. There were flowers strewn around it—some on the floor, some propped up against it with writing scrawled across the door. It was too small to see, but I assumed it was words of encouragement and well-wishes. It touched my heart a little. I didn’t realize anyone really gave a damn. I wasn’t that big a deal, not even when Dylan and I were dating. The only reason people knew my name was because of him and Nina. Without them, I’d have faded away into high school obscurity, just another face in the yearbook.

  “Wow,” I murmured, studying the photo.

  “And just to answer the question you haven’t asked, Dylan is a mess,” she stated matter-of-factly, her shoulders relaxing a bit, her tears now gone.

  “Why?” I asked, crinkling my brows. I remembered he seemed pretty broken up that night. He hadn’t bothered to check on me since it happened though.

  “He blames himself. Said it was all his fault. He hasn’t really said what happened that night. I tried to talk to him about it, but he just clams up. So?”

  “So?” I parroted innocently, knowing damn well what she wanted.

  “What really happened, Ever? Why were you out of the car? There are all sorts of rumors flying around school. Some people say you were mad at Dylan for embarrassing you and you two fought. Some say you were trying to get him out of the car so you could leave him there. S-some even say you jumped in front of the car to kill yourself to get back at Dylan over Brit. What really happened?”

  “Ugh.” I rubbed my eyes, annoyed that people had nothing better to do with their time than to speculate how I almost died. “I don’t even know. It was stupid. Yes, we were arguing. He was wasted and annoying me. I got out and was going to just walk home. Leave his sorry ass there. He got out and tried to take the keys from me. It was an accident. He grabbed the keys, and I fell backward and well, you know. Car. Uh, SUV, actually. I don’t remember much after that. He was upset. I just remember it hurting and being scared. He stayed by my side though, so there’s that.”

  I bit my bottom lip before continuing, a flash of Shadow in my mind. I’d started having flashes of him—his red eyes, his warm touch—two days prior to Nina’s visit, but when I tried to dig deeper, it all faded away. It was hard to tell if it was real or just part of my brain injury. I wanted to tell her about Shadow, but I also didn’t wan
t to sound like a lunatic, so I kept my mouth closed for the time being.

  I’d accepted that my brain was just firing randomly and he’d probably been a figment of my imagination because I’d seen him earlier that night. “I-I don’t blame him. Dylan. Whatever people are saying is a bunch of crap. It was just an accident.”

  “Wow.” Nina shook her head, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. “It was his fault. I mean, maybe he didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did because he was being a jackass.”

  “It wasn’t really anyone’s fault.” I frowned, not sure why I was defending him. He’d done me dirty with Brit and didn’t deserve an ounce of my time or compassion, but old habits died hard, and I couldn’t stop myself from trying to protect him. “He was drunk, and I was just being me. I’m not dead, so it’s all good.”

  “But you were almost dead, Ever! It’s not all good. You even almost died again. They said you had no brain activity. Your mom said she was going to-to let you go. Seriously. A machine was breathing for you. I came in here, not believing it, but it was true. You were so pale, so cold. It was like you were a shell. You were dead for three days.”

  “What?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting upward in surprised confusion. “I wasn’t dead, Nina.”

  “Well, a machine was breathing for you, and you had no brain waves or whatever. That equals dead. You were on a freaking machine for almost two weeks. You couldn’t even breathe on your own. My mom said they were going to put a trach thing in you. You narrowly missed it. If you hadn’t woken up when you did, you’d have a freaking tube coming out of your throat right now.”

  “Guess I lucked out,” I joked weakly, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Nina’s words made my stomach churn. My mom and Dr. Sanders had failed to mention that little bit of information to me.

  “You really did,” she replied seriously. “I want to kill Dylan right now.”