My eyes swing back to Dr. Benefield, her outline still foggy, but I can make out a girl next to her, arm in a sling.
She pushes open the door farther and…
The entire room spins. I grab on to the rail on my bed, my breath seizing. I shut my eyes and wait for it to subside, to come back into reality like always. I must have really hit my head, because this flash is bad. More real than any of the others.
But when I open my eyes, the air rushes right out of me again.
Because it isn’t Marley who walks through the door.
It’s Kimberly.
And this time she doesn’t fade.
But I do.
27
When I wake up, I keep my eyes squeezed shut, the nightmare with Kim slowly ebbing. I hear the machines beeping next to me, the sterile smell of hospital sheets filling my nose, a hand stroking my arm lightly, gently.
I must’ve hit my head bad in the storm. Bad enough to need to go to the hospital again. Bad enough to have a flash like that.
“These summer storms are drowning my roses. Why won’t it—”
“Mom,” I croak as I open my eyes, relieved, the image of Kim replaced by my mom’s profile, the colors sharp and bright. I look around the room, too weak to sit up, too disoriented to take everything in, my mind moving in slow motion.
Her eyes swing over to look at me, and she gasps, then plants kisses all over my face, tears swimming into her eyes. “I thought I’d never hear that again.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask as the tears fall all over me. I groan, reaching up to touch my head. “I fell. Hit my head, I think.”
She hesitates, frowning slightly, her hand pausing on my arm. “Do you remember anything?”
I stare at her. What does she mean do I remember anything? I just told her.
“Yeah, I fell and hit my head looking for Marley during the thunderstorm. Right?”
Her face falls. What else is there to remember? My heart stops. Please don’t let anything have happened to Marley.
“Marley? I—you were in a car accident, Kyle,” she continues, her eyes boring into mine. “With Kimberly.”
I blink, shaking my head. As if I could ever forget. Why is she bringing that up now?
“Yeah, Mom,” I say, reaching weakly up to hold her hand, the IV tugging at my skin. “That was a year ago. Last night I busted my face in the backyard.”
She stares at me. “You’re confused, honey. You’ve been… asleep,” she says, her eyebrows knitting together. “In a coma.”
“In a—what?” I pause, taking in her expression. How hard did I hit my head last night? “A coma? How long?”
“Eight weeks,” she says.
What? If it was that bad for me, Marley might have had it even worse. Did something happen to her in the storm? “Where’s Marley?” I ask her, feeling more worried every second that she isn’t there.
Mom looks at me, her eyes filled with worry. Finally she asks, “Who?”
I freeze, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.
The shriek of the metal. Kimberly’s horrified face. Fluorescent lights flashing overhead as I’m wheeled down the hallway.
But… this doesn’t make any sense.
Where is Marley?
“I’ve gotta get out of here,” I say as panic claws at my chest. I try to swing myself up, but my right leg refuses to move. I look frantically down to see a full cast enveloping the entire length of my leg, and when I move it, pain radiates through the bones. A sense of déjà vu overwhelms me. Déjà vu and horror.
“It’s over now,” my mom says, grabbing ahold of my arm. “Things will be back to normal in no time. You’ll see.”
I yank my arm from her grip and rip the IVs from my hand. As I try to stand, my left leg crumples under the weight. I tumble forward into my mom. She breaks my fall, trying to keep us both upright.
“Nurse!” she screams out. “I need a nurse. Someone, please!”
I struggle to keep moving, but strong hands grab me and something sharp stabs my upper arm. A nurse… with a needle. I fall back onto the bed, my arms and legs like lead weights. Everything is suddenly slow and heavy as my mouth fights to form words.
“I… don’t…，” I manage to get out, my eyes focusing on my mom. “Kimberly’s… alive?”
“Of course she is, darling,” my mom says, confused. “She’s been here every day.”
I wait for the flash to end. For the world to reset. I close my eyes, and Marley’s face burns against my eyelids. Her hazel eyes, the freckles scattered across her nose, her long brown hair. The smile she gets on her face when she’s telling a story. The way she chews her lip when she’s thinking really hard about something. But when I open my eyes, I still see the hospital. Marley’s not here.