Whispered Voices

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I don't know what the doctor gave me, but it was strong. The next time I opened my eyes, the room was in darkness and I was alone. I didn't bother to try and lift my head; I could vividly recall the pain from last time. Instead, I took in a visual summary of what I could see directly in front of me. The TV was on low, set to music. Funny, it wasn't music I normally will listen to, but it was soothing, and I enjoyed it. I could hear the beeping of the monitors as they recorded my every heartbeat. At least I knew I was still alive. I closed my eyes for a moment, and I swear that my senses were tingling in a heightened awareness. I could smell things that I normally wouldn’t have noticed, and I was more aware of the noises outside of the room than what should be possible with the music from the TV on.

I was also more aware of my own body, feeling each finger and toe acutely, and I swear I could feel the blood making its journey through them. It seemed odd to be so aware of myself.

I still had the headache, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. The pain in my ankle was now more of an irritant and I longed to reach down to rub it. This was a clear sign the medicine dripping into my IV was doing its job. Before I could contemplate the dilemma any further, the door cracked open and Peter stuck his head in.

"Hey Mac, are you awake?" His whisper wasn't exactly soft, but he meant well.

"Yeah, come in Peter." My voice cracked, and I realize my throat was dry. Peter must've heard the hoarseness in my voice because he reached over and poured me a glass of water and brought it to me as he walked into the room. He held the straw for me so that I can get a good swallow and then he set the cup back down after I assured him I had plenty for now.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you’re okay, Mac. You gave me the biggest scare of my life. I really thought I'd lost you."

I could hear the sincerity of his emotions and I tried to blink back the tears. Peter must've seen the tears, because he reached over and gently wiped the corner of my eyes. Before either of us could say anything, the tender moment disappeared as a nurse came in. It wasn't Moira, and I felt disappointed. The nurse quickly went about her business, taking my temperature, blood pressure, and then adjusted the bed so that I could sit up more comfortably. I was amazed that the headache from earlier had gone for a pounding to a dull ache. When she left, I pointed to the end of the bed.

"Peter can you pull the blanket off? They said I would have a scar and I'd like to see how bad the burn is."

"I'm not taking the bandages off, so I don't know what you think you're going to see.”

Before we could go any further, the door opened again and this time it was Moira. She took in the situation in a glance, realized what Peter was doing with the blanket. Shaking her head, she chastised me for my impatience.

"This will not heal properly if take the dressing off before it’s supposed to. And you, sir, did you sterilize your hands before touching her?"

Peter dropped the blanket like a hot potato, and he blushed. I could see the smile lurking on the corners of Moira’s mouth as she turned to me.

"You're not going to be at ease until you see this, are you? All right, I’ll take the dressing off, and you can take a peek. And that’s it—I’m going to get that wound covered right back up, so the medicine can do its job. Then, maybe you can stop worrying."

She worked with gentle hands that were skillful and efficient. I didn't even feel the pull of the dressing as she pulled it off, inch by inch. She then helped me to a more upright position, and held me sturdy as I leaned over to look at my ankle. She was right, there was a scar there. It wasn't a cool scar like the scar RK Rowling had given her character, Harry Potter, but it was interesting. It had the faint resemblance of a feather etched into my skin, and it seemed to circle my ankle wandering a bit up my calf. If I'd been into tattoos, I probably would've wanted it to stay. But I had always taken pride in my legs, they were probably my best feature, and I was disappointed that they were now marred.

I hadn't realized that Peter was looking over my shoulder as well, and his voice made me jump. He grinned and gave me a thumb-up.

"On anybody else, that would be a scar. But on you, Mac, it’s a beauty mark."

His words made me feel better, and I couldn't help but smile as I blushed. Any compliment from Peter was a gift. He just didn't give them out often, to me anyways. Satisfied that I had seen enough of my ankle, my caretaker eased me back onto my pillows and then deftly re-bandaged my injury. Then she turned to both of us with a serious look on her face.

"McKenzie, they will not allow you to stay here for long, beds are needed for other patients, as I'm sure you know. But you're going to need some care when you get home. That ankle is going to be sore to walk on, and your headaches are going to be intense for a while. We still need to monitor your hearing. You will need somebody to stay with you for the first couple of days, and then a therapist from the hospital will come daily to check on you. Do you have someone to stay with you?"

I knew I could call one of my girlfriends and they would be there in a second to help me. But they would also hover and try to take over—I dreaded the thought. Before I could decide who would be the easiest to get along with for a couple of days, Peter chimed in.

“I will stay with her,” he stated in a somewhat bossy, manner, clearly still concerned.

I was astonished. I knew we were best friends, but this was a lot for somebody to do.

"Peter, you don't have to do this. I have plenty of girlfriends nearby and they can do this. Besides you have a job to go to."

"You know as well as I do that I can work from home-it’s one of the perks of working in my father’s business, I can make my own hours. Besides my parents would agree, taking care of the people you love always comes before work. Come on, Mac, you would do this for me."

He was right on all points, and I was thrilled that he had offered. Having my best friend with me when I needed him would be the best therapy I could get. I gave a nod to him and then turned to Moira.

"Okay, I guess I have a roommate for a couple days."

"Well that's just perfect. Peter, I'll get you list of supplies that she will need and directions for her care. The doctor told me she’ll be released tomorrow afternoon, so you’ll have time to get yourself set up." She looked pleased that everything was working out so well and then looked back at me, ready to give me my instructions as well.

"Right now, I would like you to get some more rest. In the morning, you’ll have some testing done on your eyesight and hearing. You'll also need to be fitted for a crutch. Your friend can stay for fifteen minutes, and then I want you lying back down, healing."

I gave her a thumbs-up and Peter indicated that he understood her instructions as well. As soon as the door closed behind her, Peter sat on the edge of the bed and held my hand as we talked. Those fifteen minutes went by fast and before I knew it, Peter was saying goodnight, promising to be there tomorrow for my release. I made him promise not to come in the morning, worried that he would fall behind in his work.

Before he left, he gave me a light kiss on the forehead, and then dimmed the lights as he walked out the door.

I laid back and close my eyes, content and tired, and I snuggled into a more comfortable position. I was just about to doze off when I heard someone to the right of my bed. I felt too tired to open my eyes, assuming it was just another nurse. She didn't ask me any questions, but instead I heard the woman's voice say the oddest thing.

"This is the one. There is great potential here, powers waiting for instruction. But she will need your guidance and wisdom to get her to accept them."