Home is Where the Heart Is (Home #1)

by Cheynee Filkov

  Looking down at herself, the shadows began to mist away and slowly her body came into view. Pale, almost grey arms that were trembling and a… hospital gown? What the hell?

  “Isabelle, are you awake, honey?”

  The voice was closer this time and it was definitely belonged to her Mum.

  “Mum!” Isabelle tried to scream but nothing came out. Her senses were coming back to her, and so was the pain. Oh God, so much pain.

  “Should we call a nurse? Her heart rate is accelerating and I don’t like how she’s twitching.”

  “Isabelle? Can you hear me, Princess? Squeeze my hand, baby.”

  Isabelle tried to move her hand to clutch her father’s warm palm but now the darkness was going in and out of focus and her limbs were heavy and useless.

  Daddy! Daddy! I’m here, please make it stop!

  It was crushing her now; the agony in her throat and ribs. So this was hell after all then. She was going to have to lie here for eternity listening to those she loved more than anything, but never able to reach them. Would she start to hear Jace’s voice too? And Tate’s?

  She’d actually rather burn.

  “Honey, you’re going to be OK. If you can hear me, I love you and you’re going to be OK. Rest now my sweet girl and things will be better when you wake up.”

  If Isabelle was able to, she would have burst into tears at that moment. Instead, she stopped fighting against the pain and allowed the suffocating darkness to pull her under.

  *

  “Why isn’t she waking up?”

  “Honey, you heard what the doctor said. She needs to heal in both mind and body. She’s going to wake up when she’s ready.”

  “We’ve failed her as parents.”

  “Cleo, you can’t think like that.”

  “Look at her, James! Breathing from a goddamn tube in a hospital bed, riddled with bruises! We would have no idea what had happened to her if it weren’t for Jace. And let’s not pretend for one second that something didn’t happen that broke something inside of her, even before we moved here.”

  “Sweetheart – “

  “No, James, no! She came home that night with a bruised face and a broken spirit. She fed us her lies about that fight and then shut herself away from us and everyone else. And the worst thing is, that we just let her. She would have left Tate behind in the dust if you hadn’t flown him in. She had the school calling us because they were concerned about her poetry, and we still took a backseat to our daughter’s pain and suffering!”

  “Come here, honey, and take a deep breath. We’re not perfect - no parent is. We have been blessed enough to be given a second chance with our girl, let’s not waste it, hmm?”

  Isabelle could hear her parents’ frantic whispers and was lucid enough to know this wasn’t a dream, but she couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t move her body and couldn’t say a word to try and ease their suffering. God, she so wanted to be able to communicate with them. She had put her parents through enough over the last of couple months, and while she thought she was protecting them from her damage, she realised now that she had done just the opposite.

  Bracing herself inwardly she brushed aside her guilt and revulsion and focused on her body and breathing. She could do this - it was just moving her damn fingers, not solving the problem of world hunger.

  “-still hasn’t left and it’s been two days. Claire can’t even get him home for a shower.”

  Was her Mum talking about Jace?

  “Kid’s totally done for,” her Dad said with a hint of amusement. “If I weren’t so worried about my baby girl waking up, I’d be very concerned about just how much he loves her.”

  They were talking about Jace. Her heartbeat picked up automatically and the tiniest of sighs left her.

  “Did you see that? I swear she just moved and I know her heart is beating faster! Honey? It’s Mum, you’re in the hospital but you’re going to be ok. Can you hear me, sweetie?”

  A warm hand touched her forehead, and her Dad’s rough thumb rubbed her hand.

  “We’re here, Belle, and we love you so much. Save your old man from a heart attack and let me see those pretty peepers.”

  Isabelle fought against the fog in her brain and the lead in her limbs to try and squeeze her Dad’s hand, but the best she could do was let out a tiny mew against the obstruction down her throat.

  “Cleo, call the doctor. I know she’s listening to us now, she just needs a little help.”

  Her Mum rushed out to obey as her Dad kept talking to her soothingly.

  “Jace has been here every minute you have. We kicked him out of your room in hopes that he would go home and get some rest, but he just set himself up in the waiting area and refused to budge. Be kind of rude to keep your guest waiting, don’t you think?” he teased softly.

  “Tate came down with your Uncle Chris and Aunt Lex, and they’re all worried sick about you. Tate has been splitting himself in two trying to check in on you and the other girl.”

  The other girl?

  Isabelle’s fingers finally twitched at that news and her Dad whooped in glee.

  “That’s my girl! Keep fighting your way back to us, Belle.”

  There was something in her throat stopping her from talking, making her feel suffocated and helpless. She wanted it out and she wanted it out now. Her stupid hands wouldn’t work and her body was too damaged to do anything but lay there like a rock. Anxiety was coursing through her body, and only increasing in strength.

  Dad, I want the thing out of my throat. Get it out, get it out, GET IT OUT!

  Isabelle shrieked the words in her mind; and in response the heart machine beeped erratically, causing her Dad to become as frantic as her heartbeat.

  “Shh, honey, calm down,” he cooed in a tight voice. “You need to calm down, everything is OK. The doctor will be in soon and once you are all better we can take you home.”

  She had no idea how she did it. Maybe she had developed new special powers of strength, or maybe she just really fucking wanted the tube out, but her useless hand started to twitch. Then with all her remaining energy, Isabelle tried to rip at the tube down her throat but the dark wave pulled her under again.

  *

  There were no more tubes down her throat when Isabelle awoke again, but there was also no relief from the pain.

  “Uhh, arghhh, gahh,” were the first words out of her mouth, and every single syllable ripped at her vocal cords.

  “Belle!”

  Slowly opening her eyes revealed her Mum and Dad’s pale and drawn faces as they hovered above her.

  “Hey sweetie, it’s so good to see your eyes again,” her Mum said before swiftly bursting into tears.

  Her Dad held his own tears back as he kissed her forehead gently.

  “The doctor should be here soon to check your vitals. You were in an incident with Kimberley and her sorry excuse-”

  “James,” her Mum said sharply. “You’re not helping.”

  With a deep breath her Dad started again. “You were hurt pretty bad, honey, but you’re going to make a full recovery.”

  A silver haired doctor with bright green eyes and a crooked smile entered the room.

  “Well, hello there sleeping beauty, you’ve given everyone quite a scare. Shall we check you out so we can get you back home as soon as possible?”

  Isabelle opened her mouth to speak again but nothing came out except a groan, and she nearly fainted from the pain of trying.

  The doctor smiled sympathetically.

  “You’ve had some damage to your throat and vocal cords, so I’m afraid you’re going to be on vocal rest for the next month while everything heals. You have a broken arm, which we’ve already set, three fractured ribs which unfortunately need to heal on their own, and we’ve re-set your broken nose. You’re very lucky none of your injuries were permanent, and, although I know it is incredibly painful for you right now, we’re very hopeful you’ll make a full recovery.”

  Isabelle tuned hi
m out a little while he checked her chart, her eyes, her pulse and various other things whilst explaining why he was doing it and the course of action for her healing. He gave her parents a meaningful look when he mentioned her needing to talk to someone in the next couple months to help heal in all ways.

  A week ago that suggestion would have terrified her, But now, with the sterile smell clinging to her skin, and the bland white walls feeling like they were closing in on her, Isabelle was desperate enough to do anything to escape this place and the tornado of thoughts constantly crashing through her mind.

  “-going to need to observe you overnight, and then if all is satisfactory you can be released tomorrow. You’re going to need to have some therapy for your voice, plus have bi-weekly check-ups until your rate of healing picks up a little. I imagine your throat is very dry and raw. Would you like some water?”

  Isabelle could only nod and then wait as her Mum held a cup with a straw and they watched intently as she struggled to swallow the liquid. If it weren’t for their anxious gazes she might have revealed just how brutal the liquid felt going down her throat - like acid burning its way down.

  Where were Jace and Tate? Was Kimberley awake too? How had she gotten to the hospital? Did everyone at school know what had happened already?

  There were so many questions she wanted answers for. Mainly though she just wanted to know Kimberley was OK and that Jace… well, she just wanted to see him.

  “I’m going to let everyone know you’re awake,” her Mum murmured softly.

  “I’ll go to the house and grab you a change of clothes so you’re not making your grand exit from the hospital in nothing but a gown,” her Dad said with a wink.

  Isabelle offered a weak smile and nodded.

  They were almost to the door when she clapped her hands to get their attention.

  At any other time it would be comical how quickly they whipped back around and were back at her side.

  “Are you OK?”

  “What hurts?”

  “Should we call the doctor again?”

  Isabelle smiled and then mouthed I love you.

  They rewarded her with genuine smiles and a kiss on each cheek.

  “Rest up sweetie - we won’t be far away.”

  CHAPTER 18

  JACE

  It always baffled Jace how lifeless all hospitals seemed; considering the amount of life they held within their walls. He wasn’t sure if it was the sterile smell, bland furnishings, or if the aura of sickness and despair was so thick that it wore away your spirit the longer you stayed.

  Waiting rooms in particular were horrendous. Why hadn’t they invested in comfortable chairs for people to do as the name suggested and wait? The vending machines were also a few corridors down, and the walls had been painted a weird olive colour. If he could paint anxiety with a colour it would be the one on these walls.

  Three days he’d been here now and it was really wearing him down. His back and neck were killing him, he smelt like he belonged on the streets, and with running on an average of three hours’ sleep a night, he feared he was in risk of losing his mind.

  He knew all the nurses’ names on this floor and could draw blueprints of this side of the hospital from memory. He knew when the shift changes occurred and even a little of the office politics between the staff.

  What he didn’t know was when they would let him see Isabelle. Despite the aching in his body, he was not leaving here until he saw she was truly OK.

  “Jace?”

  Jace nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed to stand and face Tate. Surely they wouldn’t send Tate to deliver the bad news, right? Would Tate even know? From what he’d seen of the guy, he had spent most of his time by Kimberley’s bedside since her worthless Mother had still yet to show up.

  “Is she OK?” Jace rasped, grabbing Tate’s already rumpled blue shirt.

  Tate’s green eyes were weary and dull as he eyed Jace, his messy brown hair in disarray, and very new frown lines creased deeply into his face.

  “Which one?” Tate replied softly.

  Guilt sliced through Jace because he was only thinking of Isabelle, had only really been thinking about her for the last three days.

  Tate saw his guilt and sighed, pulling out of his grasp.

  “I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to say. I knew who you meant, and I actually have been sent down here to give you news.”

  “What about Kimberley though?” Jace asked.

  Tate looked stricken for a moment. “She’s not waking up. I’ve been sneaking into her room and taking pictures of her chart so I can Google it, even eavesdropping on the nurses since no one will release any information to anyone but family. They… they’re not sure if she is going to wake up - said that the trauma might be too much this time and her mind might not be able to handle it.”

  Fuck. Jace should have killed that monster when he had the chance. Kimberley was flawed but she didn’t deserve this life she had been handed. If someone had earned a second chance, it was her. He’d sneak in later to hold her hand and he would send his Mum to retrieve her egg donor (she didn’t deserve the title of Kimberley’s Mother) so that she could sign over the rights to her and Jace. His family could take care of Kimberley from then on, give her a real family.

  “I’m sorry man, that’s… I’m going to talk to my Mum and we’ll make sure she’s getting the best care, OK?”

  Tate nodded solemnly and then, with a deep exhale, he offered Jace the tiniest of smiles.

  “Belle is awake and lucid - they think she should be able to go home tomorrow.”

  Jace didn’t wait to hear anything else. He strode purposely towards Isabelle’s room, his only thought was that he had to see her, touch her.

  He was only five steps in when Tate grabbed him, yanking him back hard.

  “Let me finish,” he ground out, his face all kinds of ‘don’t fuck with me’.

  Jace contained the urge to punch Tate…barely.

  “She’s pretty messed up, dude. Broken bones, bruises everywhere, and her throat’s badly damaged - enough that she can’t speak at all for the next month. Her parents have gone to fetch some things to make her more comfortable, but they wanted you to know she’s going to be OK, and you can head home and see her tomorrow when they release her.”

  “Nope,” Jace replied, popping the ‘p’. “I’m going to see her now, don’t try to stop me, man. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Tate, the crazy bastard, actually gave Jace a grin. “Figured you’d say that.”

  Jace rolled his eyes and then turned swiftly to head towards the elevators, in the opposite direction.

  “Where are you going?” Tate yelled. “Her room’s the other way.”

  “I’ve gotta get something first,” Jace replied over his shoulder.

  “What? Flowers?”

  Jace shrugged but kept walking. “Something like that.”

  *

  He hated the room instantly, and she looked so tiny in the bed, pale skin patterned with bruises and bandages.

  The white walls seemed to accentuate all of the blues and blacks on her pallid, fragile skin. There were a couple of machines around her, whirring mechanically. An IV stand was hooked up to her left hand dangling lifelessly on the side of the bed but her right hand was clenching and unclenching in her lap.

  Those golden orbs he always got lost in were hidden, her breathing loud and laboured. If it weren’t for her clenching hand, he would think she was sleeping.

  All at once he felt incredibly awkward and stupid for rushing in here, for staking out the hospital for days for any scraps of information they were willing to provide. The last time they had been together for longer than a minute was a memory filled with pain, anger, and so much confusion and hurt.

  Should he just sneak out before she opened her eyes?

  He backed away one step and was almost at the door when her eyes snapped open and her gaze locked onto his like a target.

  His breath ru
shed out and his heart beat rapidly in his chest. He was so gone for this girl. He’d thought as much for the last couple of months but now, now he knew with everything inside him, that he would have to spend the rest of his life in agony, being anything she would let him be in her life - because he wasn’t going to be able to stay away.

  Fuck his life.

  Intuitive as always, Isabelle’s full lips turned down as she watched his face intently. He felt her scanning and deciphering his emotions as he felt them.

  He took another uncertain step back, watching in fascination as her eyes widened in panic and her mouth opened, emitting a strangled, pained grunt.

  Her pain spurred him on and he rushed over to her side. “Hey, don’t speak, OK? You’re going to have to take a break from your adorable babbling and just sit there and look pretty.”

  And she did look pretty, even with one eye completely bloodshot and a scowl in place. She flipped him the bird, causing him to chuckle for the first time in days.

  “I uh…got you something,” he mumbled.

  Pulling his hands from behind his back, he offered her the small white board he’d purchased. He’d poorly drawn a bouquet of flowers in the centre of the board in blue and green marker, and it seemed totally lame now that she was just staring at the board resting on her lap.

  “You don’t have to use it,” he said lamely. “I just figured it would help give you a voice without you having to actually use your voice.”

  His voice trailed off as Isabelle pulled her phone from the bedside table, snapped a picture of the board, and then rubbed out the flowers. Next, she uncapped the green marker attached to the side of the board and wrote her first words.

  Thank you, Spiderman.

  Her silly little nickname for him filled him with warmth, and some of the tension left his body. The tension eased further when she scooted over and gestured for him to join her on the bed.

  “I don’t know, Angel, you’re pretty beat up and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The look she gave him quite clearly said he was to shut up and do as she said or she would hurt him. They both knew she was in no condition to do any damage but he indulged her, laying half of his body on the bed so she still had plenty of room and he didn’t disrupt anything medical.