Time didn't feel like it was moving in the way that it should be, or at least Andrew didn't feel as qualified to judge it as he should be. He was poked and prodded, tested and asked questions by countless doctors and nurses and people who looked far too young to be either. He learned only two things from any of these encounters, and neither was from any of the doctors:
1) His muscles were awfully stiff, and seemed almost weaker than he remembered them being
2) His left leg must have been involved in whatever had happened to him, as it was the only part of his body that caused him real pain to move.
He didn't bring up either of these finding with his doctors, who he was certain would already know such things. Instead, he kept them to himself and did his best to learn more about his own condition from their business-like attitudes and actions. He couldn't figure anything out, but the more he tried to think about it, the more it made his head spin. It was as if his own mind was blocking a horrible truth from him, and he was practically shaking with his own anxiety by the time that they brought him back to his own room (or at least what Andrew assumed had been his previous room. He had no confidence that he would be able to tell them apart from one another.)
Luckily, waiting for him in that room was the perfect cure for any of the awful things he was feeling. Jumping to her feet when his bed was rolled into the room was a beautiful woman with striking blue eyes and blonde hair that fell in perfect curls. She bounced a bit on the balls of her feet as she waited for the doctors to get Andrew's bed into place, but as soon as they were gone, she bounded to the edge of his bed.
"Andrew!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe you're awake! I mean, you were awake before, but it was just for a couple of seconds, but look at you now!"
Her grin was contagious and for a moment Andrew actually managed to forget his own fears and smile along with her. After all, if his best friend was there, things must be alright. Whatever he had forgotten, whatever his brain was hiding from him, it must not be that bad because Abigail was here and she was smiling at him in her uniquely optimistic way.
It was this contagious optimism that, for just a moment, kept him from realizing that Abigail was the one who should have been there. She was a friend, of course, and he was happy to see her, but she wasn't the one who was supposed to sit by his bedside when he was stick. That role belonged to someone else now, someone who was clearly absent from the room when he dared to think about it. All at one, he felt sure he knew what his mind was hiding from him, and he hated it with everything in his being.
His voice was broken and more of a croak than a word, but slowly and painfully he managed to force out a sound.
"Cassandra."
He stared at Abigail, and there was not doubt that she had understood him perfectly. Emotions flitted across her face faster than he had ever seen, and she shook her head a bit, as if to herself. When she looked up at him again, her smile seemed more strained than before, but she kept it as wide as ever.
"Sorry, couldn't get that," she said, shaking her head. "Let me get you some water."
Moments later, she was pouring water into his mouth for him, insisting that he needed the help and was awfully lucky that he had her to help him. Andrew wanted to tell her that he could handle it on his own, but as twisted as Abigail's intentions seemed to be, the effect was actually helping him out a lot. He hadn't realized just how much he needed water until he was drinking it, and while his arms had fared better than his legs, he wasn't sure that he could hold a full glass of water steady in his hands yet. He took in the water gratefully, but once the cup was empty, Abigail had no choice but to face him. He looked her right in the eye, and as serious as he could, he repeated the same word from before.
"Cassandra," he croaked, and when Abigail winced, he couldn't tell if it was from the awful sound of his voice or the horrible news she was doomed to share with him.
"Look..." she said, tilting her head apologetically. She didn't finish the sentence, but instead started over. "I mean, can't this wait?"
Andrew shook his head and fixed her with him most desperate stare. Whatever the truth, he needed to know it. He dreaded the answer, but nothing could be worse than the pain of uncertainty. Slowly, he formed more words in a row than he had managed since waking up.
"Is she dead?" he asked, and he refused to look away form Abigail until he got his answer.
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