Before Dawn

Knowing that no significant time had passed calmed her down a little, but she was still unnerved by the doctors and the expressions on their faces.

At last she managed to reach out and clasp hold of one of the doctor’s sleeves. He looked down at where her hand was gripping him, bunching the fabric up. His face paled, as if he were looking at a ghost. He looked up at the paramedic.

“I thought you said her bones were shattered.”

The paramedic looked down at her hand, too.

“They were,” he said.

All at once he stopped walking, as though so completely stunned he could no longer carry on. They left him behind and he disappeared from view.

Finally, Kate felt the gurney turn a corner, and at last she came to a rest. The doctors were fussing round her, attaching her to different machines, all making their own kind of bleeping noise. She was prodded and poked. But with every minute that passed, she seemed to regain another faculty, or control over another body part.

She tried to speak but that thing in her throat was in the way. So she reached up and felt a sort of plastic guard around her mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey,” one of the doctors said, trying to guide her hand away. “That’s helping you breathe. Leave it where it is.”

She did as she was told.

“Let’s increase her propofol,” one of the doctors was saying to another. “There’s still a chance of brain swelling. A coma will give her the best chance of reducing damage.”

“She’s had the maximum dose,” the second said.

“Well then there’s been a mistake,” the first argued. “That paramedic seemed out of it to me. Probably wrote down the wrong thing. There’s no way that girl’s had the maximum dose.”

“Okay, fine, if you say so.”

Kate felt a tingling sensation from the place where the drip was inserted in her wrist. A weird feeling crept through her body, like the sort of tiredness you feel during a boring movie. It definitely didn’t feel like she was being anesthetized.

The doctors were all looking at each other now.

“There must be something wrong with the supply,” the first said. “Oh God, look into it, will you? The last thing we need right now is another lawsuit.”

One of the doctors disappeared, leaving just two behind.

One of them leaned down. He shined a flashlight into each of her pupils.

“Are you on drugs?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He didn’t look like he believed her.

“Because if you’re on anything that might interfere with the propofol we need to know. No amphetamines?”

Kate shook her head again. She desperately wanted the tube out of her throat so she could speak to them.

The doctors looked at each other, completely at a loss as to what to do. Just then, another person walked over to the bed. It was a woman in a suit.

“We’ve got an ID for the girl,” she said. “There was a card in her backpack. Kate Roswell from San Marcos Senior High School. The principal is going to get me the parents’ phone numbers.”

The doctors nodded.

“Or you could have just asked her yourself,” one of them said, gesturing to where Kate was lying in bed, wide awake, blinking patiently.

The woman faltered.

“I was told she was being put into a coma.”

“She was,” the other doctor said.

The two of them gawked at her, and they seemed completely stunned.

“Can you excuse us for a moment?”

They walked off together, in a daze.

The woman turned to Kate.

“Kate, can you hear me?” she said.

Kate nodded.

“And you’re Kate Roswell, is that right?”

Kate nodded again.

“I’m Brenda Masters, I’m a social worker here at the hospital. Has anyone told you what happened?”

Kate shook her head. But she didn’t need to be told. She remembered everything. The RV as it slammed into her body, crushing her bones to pieces. The blackness creeping into her vision as she felt death closing in on her. And Elijah. Elijah with his fangs bared, sinking them into her neck.

“Typical doctors,” the woman said. “They never think to actually speak to the patients.” Brenda sat herself down in the seat next to Kate. “You were hit by an RV. You’re in Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital. I’ll be working with you and your parents while you recuperate. Don’t worry, they’re going to be here really soon.”

Brenda patted her arm.

But the last thing Kate wanted right now was her family. They’d find some way to blame her, surely. They’d say she was reckless for letting the brakes on her bike become faulty, or for riding down that hill too fast. She could imagine her mom now, laying into her. Worse, she might claim that Kate was attention seeking because of Madison getting to go to college and her not having a cake on her birthday. A million thoughts crossed her mind and tears brimmed in her eyes.

A small frown appeared between Brenda’s eyebrows. “You don’t want your parents here?” she asked.

Kate shook her head again and one of her tears fell down her cheek.

The woman seemed concerned by the revelation. She probably didn’t understand why a seventeen-year-old girl who’d been in a near fatal accident didn’t want her family around her. She’d probably never met anyone like the Roswells.

“Did you do something you weren’t supposed to?” Brenda said gently. “Because if you’re worried they’ll be angry at you then I’m sure that won’t be the case. They’ll just want to know you’re okay.”

Kate shook her head again. They would be angry, yes, but it wasn’t because of what she’d done specifically. It was because of her very existence.

Her tears began to fall in torrents.

“We have to inform your parents,” the woman said. “You’re legally a child.” Then her voice softened. “Kate, I’m going to ask you something important and I want you to really think about how you answer. Nod yes if you agree with what I say and shake your head no if you don’t. Kate, do your parents hurt you?”

Kate swallowed, her throat sore against the tube. How she desperately wanted to nod yes. But her life didn’t constitute abuse, not in the way that woman meant. At least, she didn’t think so anyway. But did abuse always have to mean punches and kicks, or could it mean being deprived of food, being ostracized for no reason, being ignored on your birthday? Kate didn’t fully know. And though she was aware that a simple nod of the head now could set a whole chain of events in motion, could perhaps even see her taken from her home and placed with people who didn’t despise her and wanted her to go to college, there was always Max to think about. She couldn’t put him through that kind of trauma, he was just a kid.

She shook her head.

The woman nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. She probably thought Kate was some silly teenage runaway. That she’d gone out thrill seeking and got herself nearly killed and was trying to avoid being disciplined.

“I’ll make the call,” the woman said, standing and smoothing down her skirt.

She left and Kate realized she was alone for the first time. The tube in her throat was absolutely maddening. It itched like crazy. And she desperately wanted to be able to speak. She needed to ask someone where Elijah was. She remembered being cradled in his arms. Why didn’t he come with her in the ambulance? It must have been him who’d called it.

Kate managed to sit up in her hospital bed, finally getting herself a decent view of the ward. It was filled with other people asleep. She realized they were all in comas, just like how she was supposed to be. They’d wheeled her here expecting her to be out until whatever swelling that her brain may have had had gone down. But her body had completely rejected the drugs.

Her bones had healed too. That’s what the doctor had said. Every bone in her arm –ulna, radius, humerus – had been shattered and yet she felt no pain at all. In fact, her arms were working perfectly well. She could rotate her hands in front of her and wiggle all her fingers. In fact… she reached to her mouth and found the strange plastic mouthpiece. She wedged her fingers under it and began to pull.

The tube started sliding up out of her throat. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but she kept pulling until the whole thing was out. At last she could take a proper breath for herself. She threw the tube to the floor, glad to be rid of it.

The next thing irritating her was the IV in her arm. She ripped off the plaster securing it in place and tugged the needle out. Blood appeared from her skin and she licked it up instinctively.

Without the tubes and wires, she felt much more comfortable, and much more able to assess the situation. Her body felt different but not in a bad way. There was no pain anywhere at all. The only discomfort she was aware of now that the tube was out was a gnawing sensation in her stomach. She was starving. Was that a usual thing to feel after a near death experience?

She touched her body through the thin paper dress. Everything was where it was supposed to be. She felt a little annoyed that they’d probably cut all her clothes off in order to check for wounds that weren’t really there. But… how hadn’t she sustained any injuries? No cracked ribs or punctured lungs. No ruptured organs at all. It was all so confusing.

She noticed then that her backpack had been wheeled in with her. She reached down and found her book from Amy covered in the squished chocolate from Dinah. Then right at the bottom she found her cell phone. She’d never been allowed a smartphone like Madison, so she had one of those cheap yet indestructible ones. Luckily, it had survived the accident.

She grabbed it and texted Amy first, partly because her name was quicker to get to and partly because she was her closest friend of the three.

Hit by car. Totally fine. Plz find Elijah.

She hit send and waited. A few seconds passed before she got her reply.

WHAT!?!?!??!

Kate sighed. Clearly Amy wasn’t going to listen to her when she said she was totally fine. She texted back.

Honestly, no big deal. Nothing broken. Plz plz plz find Elijah.

Amy’s reply arrived moments later.

Ur clearly sick!! Where r u?

Frustrated, Kate put her phone down on the bed beside her. She desperately needed to find Elijah and ask him what was going on. She was certain he would know.

Just then, she noticed the doctors approaching the bed. They’d found another one, an older man with white hair, and they were striding purposefully toward her. When they saw her sitting up, with the tube on the ground and the IV drip lying on the bed, they stopped where they were.

“Is this some kind of joke?” the new, white-haired doctor said.

The others shook their heads emphatically. “I was with her the second she got out of the ambulance. The paramedics said she’d flatlined but when she came out of the ambulance she was breathing.”

“She’d had two doses of propofol,” the other added.

“How is she sitting up like that?” the white-haired doctor said.

Kate started to get very frustrated with the way they were talking about her rather than to her. She was the one who’d just been through a traumatic experience and they were treating her like a circus freak show act.

“Hi,” she said, relieved to find the tube had done nothing bad to her throat. “I think I’m feeling better now. Can I go home? I don’t see the point in worrying my family.”

She started to get up but the doctors ushered her down.

“No, wait. I’m sorry but you can’t go until we’ve tested you. You might have brain damage.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t,” Kate said. “Want me to say the alphabet backwards or something?”

The doctor with the white hair looked at the others, astounded. Finally, he asked the question that was on everyone’s lips:

“What are you?”