I Was A Bitch

As I slowly swam back to consciousness, the first question that echoed in my mind was, “Why?”

The question reverberated in the darkness that still consumed my vision. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and my eyelids felt as heavy as lead. I tried to force them open, but all I managed was a weak flutter.

My ears were filled with a cacophony of sounds. Screams. Cries. Shouts of names.

Then, a blinding light.

What the hell was happening?

“Lacey? Lacey, can you hear me?”

Was that voice addressing me?

I tried to respond, but my mouth wouldn’t move. Then, someone pried my eyelids open, and I was blinded by a light that I found myself following without even realizing it.

“She’s conscious and waking up.”

I needed water.

My mouth was as dry as a desert, and swallowing was impossible. A pounding headache was accompanied by a flurry of questions. What day was it? Where was I? Why was everything so painful? Why couldn’t I open my eyes?

“Lacey, squeeze my hand as hard as you can if you hear me.”

I felt a hand envelop mine.

“Lacey, squeeze my hand, honey.”

It took every ounce of strength I had to give the faintest squeeze. Then, more screams and cries filled the air, and I still couldn’t see anything.

Everything was painful, everything was too loud, and I wanted to scream out my confusion, but I was helpless.

So, I let myself slip back into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

***

“Is she awake yet?”

If I could, I would have furrowed my brows in confusion. More voices. My throat was parched.

Slowly, I was regaining some control. My blinking started heavy and slow, then quickened.

Open your eyes!

The light was too bright initially, and I wanted to shield my eyes, but my arms wouldn’t cooperate. So, I just blinked.

“Oh my God! Call the doctor! Lacey! Can you hear me, baby?”

A shadow blocked the harsh light, and I wanted to sigh in relief as my vision started to clear. A woman with long brown hair cascading down her back was looking at me, worry etched on her face. Then, she was asked to move, and another figure took her place.

This time, it was a man, large and dressed in strange white clothes. He pulled something from his pocket, and I was once again blinded by a small flashlight.

A strange sense of déjà vu washed over me.

“Welcome back, Lacey. Here, you might be thirsty.”

He was a mind-reader. I almost squealed in delight as he approached me with a cup of water.

He placed a straw in my mouth, and I drank eagerly, moaning in relief as my parched throat was slowly revived. I finished the entire cup and sighed slightly.

“More?” he asked. “Can you talk now?”

I opened my mouth, and a raspy voice I didn’t recognize as my own replied, “Yes, please.”

Then, more cries and shouts echoed around me, but I couldn’t identify their sources.

I drank another cup of water with the help of the large man and cleared my throat a few times before speaking again.

Questions were flooding my mind, confusion becoming my constant companion. Welcome, confusion, make yourself at home.

“Where am I?”

My voice was still raspy, but it was clearer than before.

“Lacey, you’re in the hospital, honey. I’m Doctor Shaeffer.”

Hospital? Doctor? What the hell was happening?

“Wh-what?”

“I know this is all very strange and confusing for you right now, but I promise to explain everything. Right now, though, we need to run some more tests. We need to make sure everything is functioning okay.

“Are you okay with that, Lacey?”

I managed to frown, but I still answered with a small “yes,” and the doctor smiled.

He asked the people I couldn’t distinguish to leave the room, then asked me to move my toes, legs, arms, and neck.

Once he was satisfied that I could move everything, even if just a little, he sighed, seeming relieved and content.

“Now that we’ve checked your physical condition, we need to check your mental state, Lacey. I’m just going to ask you some simple questions. Do you need more water before we start?”

“No, thank you.”

He pulled out a small notepad and flipped to a new page.

“What is your full name?”

“Lacey Amanda Jones,” I replied.

“Where do you live?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

I could picture my house, the white picket fence, my room still decorated like a ten-year-old girl’s dream of pink and unicorns…but what was the address?

“Can you at least tell me the city?” the doctor pressed.

The name surfaced in my mind. “Kirtland, Ohio!” I exclaimed, relieved.

The doctor smiled. “Good. What year is this?”

“2013.”

The doctor looked up from his notepad, his smile replaced by a frown.

“Could you repeat that for me, Lacey?”

“2013.”

He bit his lip, looking worried.

“Lacey, how old are you?”

“I’m sixteen,” I answered.

I knew it as surely as I knew that two plus two equals four, but I couldn’t remember anything about it.

Had I celebrated my birthday? I couldn’t remember what kind of cake I had or what presents I had received. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Okay... I need to consult with some other doctors, Lacey. Hang in there. I’ll call your family in, I’m sure you want to see them now.”

I could see them in my mind's eye, my family. Their faces were coming back to me, now that I was really thinking about it.

A couple of people walked into the room. A woman, probably in her forties, leaned over my bed. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she gently stroked my hair.

“Oh my God, Lacey, my baby girl, we thought... we thought we had lost you.”

She broke down, sobbing openly. I watched her, my brow furrowed. I knew, somewhere deep down, that she was my mother. But the memories I had of her felt... ancient. It was like she was a stranger, even though I knew who she was. It was the strangest sensation.

She pulled me into a hug, her body shaking with sobs. Tears streamed down her face, some of them landing on my neck.

“Are you okay? Can you move?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Tara, give her some space,” a man said, gently pulling her away from me.

My dad. I knew he was my dad. But it was the same with him as it was with my mom. He felt like a stranger.

“Hey Lacey, how are you feeling, kiddo?” he asked.

His voice was thick with emotion, and it was all too much for me.

I wanted to scream, to run away from this overwhelming confusion and fear. But I was stuck, lying in my bed, staring at these two strangers who I knew were my parents.

“Do you remember anything from the accident?” my mom asked, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear like I was a little girl.

Accident? What was she talking about? What accident?

Then it hit me. I was in a hospital. There had to be a reason for that.

My brain felt like it was moving in slow motion.

“No. What happened to me? Why am I here?” I asked, tears of fear slipping down my cheeks. My mom wiped them away as soon as they fell.

“Oh, Lacey, my baby. It’s okay. You’re okay now.”

I glanced down at her hand holding mine and saw the needles and tubes running into my arm. It was a terrifying sight, so I quickly looked away.

“You had an accident, kiddo,” my dad said.

“Your car... it hit another one and you...” He paused, probably trying to hold back his tears. “You almost died, but the doctors... they saved you. And now... now you’re awake. It’s... it’s a miracle.”

Then he started crying too. My heart ached, and I wanted to scream. He still felt like a stranger to me.

“I don’t remember anything...” I admitted, my voice shaky. “How long...how long have I been here?”

My parents—no, these strangers—exchanged a glance before turning back to me with that oh, honey! look of pity.

“Kiddo, you’ve been in a coma for two months.”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I stared at my dad in shock. Two months. No. That couldn’t be right. I couldn’t have been asleep for two months, could I?

“The doctor said...he said you thought you were sixteen...” my mom began, sounding uncertain.

“Yeah...” I said, trailing off.

“Honey, you’re eighteen. Remember your birthday party? All your friends were there. Derek gave you diamond earrings and a beautiful necklace, and took you out to dinner. Remember?”

Derek? Who the hell was Derek? And what was this nonsense about me being eighteen?

Two months plus sixteen didn’t equal eighteen! What was happening? God, I felt so tired all of a sudden. I just wanted to sleep, where nothing mattered and my mind couldn’t play tricks on me.

Oh, confusion, I don’t want you in here!

“I’m tired,” I murmured, my eyelids growing heavy.

“Oh, of course, honey, we’ll let you sleep. We can talk about it later. I love you so much, sweetie,” my mom said, her voice choked with emotion.

I closed my eyes and let sleep take me, finally giving my overworked brain a break.