I stare at the ceiling, dark circles below my eyes. I've been lying in bed staring at the white of the ceiling for the past half-hour. Last night was the third night in a row that I've had that nightmare. The nightmare that I couldn't explain, the nightmare that meant nothing, yet in some sense, a lot to me. That's what bothered me the most – actually hoping to have more of them so that I could piece together what it actually meant.
I sigh as I pull the duck feather comforter off my body, pulling my feet to the ground. I walk over to the wardrobe next to my desk and pull out a pair of grey sweat pants and teal top. After getting a towel I make my way to the bathroom in hopes that the hot water of the shower would relax my tense muscles.
Thirty minutes later I leave the bathroom and walk down the stairs for breakfast, welcomed by the smell of freshly made pancakes.
"Morning," my mom greets as I kiss her on the cheek and take a seat at the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah." I lie.
She fills a plate with pancakes and pours syrup over them, causing my stomach to growl loudly. She giggles and places the plate onto the table in front of me. I happily dig in, satisfying my grumpy stomach. When I'm done I place my plate into the sink and leave the kitchen.
"Mom?" I call, walking into the hallway.
"Here."
I follow her voice to the living room where she's sitting on one of the grey couches reading a book, which I assume is for her book club. I always found that so cliché but she always just told me to zip it and let her read.
I slump down onto the spot next to her and sit my head on her shoulder.
"Where's dad?" I ask as she turns the page of her book.
"He left to run a few errands a few minutes before you got up. He should be back in a while." She responds.
I grab the remote from the coffee table in the middle of the room and turn on the television, flicking from channel to channel. Realising that there's nothing good on TV I kiss my mom on the cheek once more and make my way back upstairs to my room. I enter the room and walk to the white bookshelf right next to my bed and pull out Pride and Prejudice.
I got my reading habit from my mother; every year for my birthday she'd get me a book with each gift. Besides my birthdays, she would also get me a few new books each time she went to the bookstore. Which was quite often with her book club and all. After a while there were too many books to just keep on my desk so she asked my father to build a shelf for them, hence, the shelf next to my bed.
I sit down on the bed and open the book to the first page. I've read the book before, but it's one of my favourites and I read it every time I can't choose what to read next.
I flip through the book, reading page after page until I am completely engrossed in it. I'm at the scene where Lizzie tries to get closer and talk to Mr Darcy when they're having dinner at the Bennetts, when I look at the clock on the wall across my bed. My eyes widen when I realise I've been reading for almost two hours and it's now going to noon.
I place a bookmark where I stopped and close the book, sliding it back into its spot on the shelf.
I walk back downstairs to check if my father had come back from his errands. I stop in the kitchen to get a glass of water. I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with cool water. I gulp the water and feel the cold water slosh down my throat. Placing the glass into the sink, I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room.
When I walk through the threshold of the living room, my stomach curls into a tight ball. I run over to the body sprawled across the floor in front of the couch and fall to my knees.
"Mom?" I say shakily. "Mom!" I repeat louder, turning her so I can see her face. I gasp as I see the black mark on her left cheek. When I turn her body to fully face me, I notice that the mark stretches from the nape of her neck, right to the bottom of her eye. I cautiously tap her cheek where the mark is, trying to wake her.
When I get no response from her I run to the telephone in the corner of the room. I call an ambulance and tell them to get here as soon as they can, then hang up and rush back to my mother. My can her my rushed pulse in my ears, making them ring.
My eyes sting with tears as I wait for the ambulance, constantly trying to wake her up.
A stray tear rolls down my cheek when I hear the doorbell after a few minutes. I gently lay my mother's head back onto the ground and hastily make my way to the door. When I open the door a couple of paramedics run to the living room and put her on a stretcher. They then rush out of the house, I lock up and follow after them, getting into the back of the ambulance.
We ride for about twenty minutes until we finally arrive at the hospital. They rush her and I follow suit behind them. They rush her to what I assume is the emergency room. I wait awkwardly in the waiting area, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, trying to keep myself collected. I don't have much experience with hospitals; there has hardly ever been a need to come to one, which only makes my urge to burst into tears and start panicking even bigger.
Not knowing what else to do, I dig around in my pocket and pull out my phone. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I call my father. He picks up on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey, dad," I sniff. "Could you come to the hospital?"
"Why? What happened?" I can hear the worry in his voice.
"Mom. I went down from my room and found her on the floor."
I hear him mutter something under his breath before responding, "Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can." Then he hung up without saying goodbye.
I stand there waiting for several minutes. After a while, the triage nurse rushes past me and into the emergency room. Not long after that, I see my father walking into the hospital. I run to him and wrap my arms around his neck, releasing a muffled sob.
He immediately wraps his arms around my shoulders.
"It's gonna be fine." He says, gently rubbing my back as I continue to sob.
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