My throat hurts. I can’t swallow; something is in the way. I’m lying on something soft, yet my head is throbbing.
“Hey, sweetheart. Livie, come back to me. Come on.”
I know that voice. I love that voice.
Elias.
My eyes flutter, the lights are bright and I flinch.
“The lights. Turn down the lights,” Elias orders.
I manage to open my eyes, my vision blurry and unfocused. I’m so confused. Why do I hurt everywhere?
I can’t breathe. I claw at the tube going down my throat.
“Olivia, it’s okay. Dr. Kennedy is going to remove the breathing tube now. You’ll feel better in just a few seconds,” Elias informs me.
I can’t see him yet. His voice is coming from my left. I listen. Elias knows what he’s talking about.
Dr. Kennedy pulls the tube free and I cough, inhaling a large breath. I groan in pain, needing a minute to get my thoughts together.
“Olivia, do you know where you are?” A bright light shines into my eyes and I flinch, swatting her hand away.
“Rude,” I croak, the word causing me to fall into a fit of coughs.
“Pupils are equal and reactive,” she says.
Elias’s chuckles have me turning my head to see him lying in another bed next to me. A machine beeps quicker and I reach for him, worried.
He takes my hand across the gap between our beds, his thumb brushing back and forth. “I’m okay. Dad needed my liver sooner than we thought. I was all done before you woke up. I’m okay. I promise. I’m okay.”
I nod, then wince, my hand flying to my head to feel it wrapped in gauze. “I’m in the hospital?” I don’t remember anything. I don’t know how I got here. My mom is here, and Amber and Victoria. Even Dr. Warrick is leaning against the wall. Everyone looks like they’ve been through hell.
“I’m so happy you’re awake.” Mom sniffles. “You scared me.”
Everyone mutters in agreement.
“I love you,” Elias says.
Before I can say it in return, Dr. Kennedy’s face is at my feet. “Do you feel this?” She scrapes the bottom of my foot and I nod. “Great. And this?” She tries the other foot.
“I do.” I clear my throat.
“Do you know your name?”
“Olivia McDowell,” I answer.
“What’s your birthday?”
“July twenty-sixth.”
“Do you know where you are?” she asks.
“Warrick General. Why?”
“It’s not uncommon to have memory issues. You were in an accident. You needed surgery on your brain to relieve the pressure. You broke your leg and your arm. Dr. Carrington performed your surgery, and I have no doubt that’s part of why you survived.”
“An accident?” I do my best to remember. “I remember the grocery store. Everything after that is blank. Can I get some water?” My voice breaks, the coughing hurting my throat even more, as if razor blades are inside of it.
