Chasing Fire: (Fire and Fury Book One)

by Avery Kingston

  There was no sense of time. Every so often, the beeping would break through, blaring in her ears, bringing pain back along with it. The pressure was like a balloon blowing up in her head. Her head had a heartbeat of its own. God, it was dark. Why was it so dark?

  Turn on the lights.

  That’s what she tried to say, but she couldn’t speak. Her mouth wouldn’t obey her brain. Her eyes were lead, unable to budge. She wanted to scream, but she was trapped in her own body.

  The beeping flowed steadily in the background still.

  Somehow, she managed a groan.

  She willed her right arm to move through whatever sludge it was caught in. Her shaky hand instinctively reached to her face, and she felt something blocking her vision. She clawed at whatever it was.

  Her arm was pulled down. “Tori…”

  Is that my name?

  “Tori.” The female sounded familiar, but she couldn’t remember it, either. “Tori, you need to calm down. You’re in the hospital. You had a car accident,” the voice cried.

  Her heart began to thump, and the beeping grew more rapid, louder. Shouts filled the room. Her body went rigid then began to convulse. Hands were on her, rolling her to the side. Shuffled footsteps scattered across the floor, then her body went limp, and there was nothing again.

  “They’re keeping her mildly sedated with pain medication. She’s been in and out today.” Tori listened to Jane explain to their mother, Maureen.

  Maybe if I pretend to sleep, they’ll go the hell away.

  “But she’s talking now, right?” Maureen said. “That’s a good sign.”

  “Yes. She was speaking nonsense the first few days. Her speech was slow, could barely understand her, but she’s been pretty clear today,” Jane whispered. “She’s worse when she first wakes up. The doctors are optimistic and astounded.” Jane sounded so full of hope. “You know Tori. If nothing else, she’s determined.”

  “Seizures?”

  “No seizures today. Her short-term memory is still hit and miss. I have to repeat things a lot, and…” Jane trailed off with a gulp.

  “Her vision?” Her mom’s voice cracked. Tori could hear the waterworks about to flow.

  It was silent for a long beat. Too long.

  “Well, we just have to keep praying. It’s already a miracle she didn’t die, and she’s woken up, and she’s talking…” Maureen trailed off. “Maybe we should call the priest again…”

  Ok, enough is enough.

  “I can f-f-fucking hear you,” Tori’s voice cracked hoarsely. God damn words were hard to get out when she first woke. Her mouth couldn’t catch up to her thoughts.

  Jane sniffled and chuckled. “Well, you’re back to your normal potty mouth, so that’s good, I suppose.”

  “Tori, it’s Mom. I’m here.” Maureen grabbed Tori’s right hand—her good one. The other one was in a cast, but that was the least of her worries. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “Ccccar accident. C-c-can’t see.” Tori pulled out of Maureen’s grasp. Her mother reeked of alcohol.

  She didn’t feel like company. Especially her drunk mother.

  “I-I nnnnnn.” Oh, come on, brain. Get it together. Tori gritted her teeth. “I need to sleep. You guys are noisy.” Tori let out a breath, patting herself on the shoulder internally. She may not see today, but god dammit, she was going to speak like a normal person if it was the last thing she did.

  “Why don’t we go grab a bite, Mom?” Jane suggested.

  “Alright,” her mom sounded hesitant. “We’ll be back soon, sweetheart.” Maureen patted Tori’s hand. Sweetheart? Mom was laying it on thick today.

  The bustling footsteps of activity in the hallway flooded through her room.

  Thanks for shutting the fucking door. Tori huffed and rolled slightly to her side, wincing in pain from her lower abdomen where they’d gutted her open and fixed bleeding and whatever else was damaged in there.

  Her mind played the events of the crash on a loop. Screaming. Headlights. Crunching metal. Repeat. She was locked in her own personal hell of darkness and memories. She pressed the pump on her pain meds, praying that it would take her back into oblivion.

  “Present the neurological case for Victoria Johnson, Dr. Knowles,” Tori heard a voice echo, snapping her wide awake.

  Again, thanks for shutting the fucking door. She wasn’t sure how many doctors were outside of her room. George Washington University Hospital was a teaching hospital, so every time a chief resident came in, he had two or three new doctor’s underneath them. The last several days had been a blur of noises and voices, until today. Today was clear. Today, she would remember for the rest of her life.

  “Twenty-nine-year-old female presents with rare case of bilateral optic neuropathy following auto accident head injury.” The younger voice echoed in the hallway. “No other neurological deficits are noted,” he added. “Progress is remarkable.”

  I’m quite the medical marvel, aren’t I?

  “Please continue,” the older voice, this time, bellowed.

  He heaved a big sigh. "Physical exam findings include bilateral no pupil response, bilateral scattered retinal hemorrhages, and bilateral absent spontaneous venous pulsations due to raised intracranial pressure. MRI showed discontinuity of the optic nerve anterior to the optic chasm bilaterally."

  Well, whatever they just said didn’t sound good.

  “Optic nerve decompression was performed, along with treatment to control swelling and pressure with intravenous steroids.” He sounded so callous and clinical as he rattled on the laundry list of everything they’d done.

  Seriously, I can’t see you, but I can hear you. For God’s sake, have some tact and shut the damn door. It was like they were discussing a lab experiment.

  “And what is your conclusion, Dr. Knowles?” Tori braced herself.

  “No other treatment is possible, recommendation is to have plastics consult for facial reconstruction and contact social services to recommend local rehabilitation programs when other injuries are stable for release.” Her heart rapped against her chest as bile rose in her throat. No no no no. Please, God no.

  “I’ll go tell her,” the older voice boomed. Quiet footsteps approached her bed.

  “I hear you’re talking up a storm now.” The doctor’s voice turned from clinical to kind in a moment’s flash, putting on his bedside manner for her.

  Tori took a breath and collected her words. “I’m a goddamn f-fucking…miracle…”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I hear you’ve got a mouth on you. Your sister warned me.” He patted her arm. “Your swelling has massively subsided. No permanent damage to your speech. I only expect it to get better.”

  Tori heard the big but in his tone. She knew what was coming.

  “Victoria I’m going to pull off the eye shields, ok?”

  Tori nodded, and her chin trembled. She grasped on to a thin straw of hope. They told Jane she’d most likely have severe brain damage with deficits, and she defied those odds. Please, let them be wrong about this.

  He pulled the medical tape and patches off. The flashlight clicked, then the doctor gently pried open her swollen, painful eyelids. There was nothing. Only endless, suffocating blackness.

  He sucked in a breath. “Victoria—”

  Tori held up her hand. “D-d-on’t say it,” she whispered and fought the urge to cry. The sorrow churned in her stomach, threatening to erupt like a volcano.

  “I’m so sorry.” He patted her hand. “Would you like me to phone someone?”

  Tori shook her head.

  “I’ll leave you alone for a moment.” Footsteps walked away, and the door shut.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding in. This wasn’t some bad dream; this was actually happening. Her entire future disappeared before her into the blackness. She couldn’t see anything. She had plans. There was so much of the world she hadn’t uncovered—the Grand Canyon, Hawaii, the mountains of New Zealand. The list went on and on in her
head.

  I can’t see… I can’t see... repeated like a broken record in her head.

  Her career, her life, her very soul, faded into the desolate wasteland that was her world now. No more art, no more color.

  This can’t be happening.

  Tori leaned her head back on the pillow. She struggled to breathe as the air left her lungs. Her stomach lurched, and she rolled over the railing of the bed and vomited.

  Keith knocked on the hospital room door and gently opened it. A doctor stood next to Tori’s bed, chatting with her. He stopped talking when Keith entered.

  “Hey Vic!” Keith tried his best to sound breezy. He’d gotten all his tears out for her on the drive there. It was time to suck it up for her sake. “Is this a bad time?” Keith glanced to the doctor.

  “Not at all. I could use your honesty.” Tori’s voice cracked and wavered. Her words were slow and deliberate, but he could actually understand her today.

  “Listen to you! I don’t need a translator to talk to you today!” Keith made a lame attempt at a joke. He could tell it almost worked by how her mouth slightly twitched in the corner. His number one goal was to make her laugh today.

  “Asshole.”

  The dark-haired doctor smiled and motioned for Keith to come on in. “I’m Dr. Burke,” he said, shaking hands with Keith. “I’m the plastic surgeon attending here at the hospital. I was just discussing with Victoria my reconstruction plan.”

  “Ooh, can I get in on that? Vic, how do you feel about Michelle Pfeiffer’s nose? You already have that great bone structure like she does.” Keith touched the tip of Tori’s nose. “Just a slight upturn here and a thinning of the bridge…”

  Tori slapped his hand away and gave a wry smile, causing her to wince in pain. “I like my old nose, thank you very much.”

  Dr. Burke smiled. “I don’t see a need for nasal reconstruction unless you have trouble breathing. What we do need to fix is the orbital fractures.” He pointed to Tori’s brows.

  “The fracture on the right eye is resulting in entrapment. The right eye is unable to move upward.” Dr. Burke pried open her swollen, purple lid with gloved hands. Keith cringed at her eye going crooked into the corner. “Now that your head injury is stable, we can put you back under anesthesia, right away, preferably.”

  At least she can’t see that. The wreck did a number on her pretty face. The entire right side was swollen, black and blue, with a stitched wound across it. Both her brow bones were sunken, the right side taking most of the hit, and there was a huge gash across her forehead and another in the middle of her nose. How she didn’t lose her teeth or break her jaw was a goddamn miracle.

  “But you can fix it?” Tori’s voice cracked. Keith could tell she was trying hard to hold it together, but she was about to lose it.

  “I don’t know, Vic. If you keep the crazy eyes, it’s possible nobody will ever mess with you. They’ll be all like, ‘Shit, I’m not going to mess with that blind bitch. She’s crazy.’” Keith tried his best to keep the mood light.

  Tori gave Keith a pained laugh, and he hi-fived himself internally.

  Dr. Burke chuckled and shook his head and continued, “I’m entirely confident I can repair the brow bone structure and get your eye muscle working normally. This happens a lot to kids that get hit with balls in the face. It’s a standard surgery I’ve done a hundred times. No crazy eyes, I promise.”

  “Ok, but how will I look after?” Tori asked. “What about scarring?”

  “You’ll be as pretty as ever, I’m certain—minimal scarring, just a little character now.” Dr. Burke patted Tori’s hand. “I’ll monitor you over the next several months to see how the healing goes. We’ll do treatment on the scars, but I don’t think you will need further reconstruction after I finish.” He smiled at Keith and gave him a nod. “Get some rest.” He squeezed her shoulder and left.

  “Character?” Tori huffed after the door shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tori’s hand went to her brow. “Character is something you say about girls that have huge noses. ‘Oh, it gives her character,’” Tori whined. “I feel like the elephant man. Seriously, Keith. How bad is it?”

  Keith sighed and sat on the bed next to her, taking her right hand into his. “You’ve seen Rocky, right? You know just after his fight with Apollo Creed?”

  “Oh shit.” Tori’s lip quivered.

  “Come on. Give me a ‘Yo Adrienne.’” Keith giggled and lightly punched her shoulder.

  “It’s not fucking funny.” Tori started to cry.

  “Oh, honey. He said he’d fix you.” Keith cradled her while she sobbed on his shoulder.

  “I should’ve gone to see the leaves with you,” she croaked.

  Keith sucked in a breath. “We’ll go next year.”

  She snorted.

  “We’ll jump into a pile of them and feel them against your skin. They’ll crunch under your boots as you walk—”

  “I should’ve died, Keith!” She screamed. “I wish I was dead.”

  “Victoria Rose Johnson, you stop this instant!”

  “I can’t do this, Keith. I feel like I’m suffocating in a world of black. I can’t live like this.”

  Keith hugged her as tightly as he could without causing her pain. His heart was shattering into a million pieces for her. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his own throat. “Yes, you can, and you will. You’re Victoria. Your name says it all. You’ve gone from rags to riches. You’ve fought, clawed, and yes, sometimes slept your way to the top if the mood suits you.”

  “You calling me a slut?” She giggled, sniffling.

  “Vicky, we’ve already established years ago you’re a dirty, little ho.” He stroked her arm. “Now you’ll be a dirty, little, blind ho, I imagine. Ooh, that would make a great blog title.”

  “You’re terrible.”

  “I’m rotten, and you love it.” He kicked his legs onto the bed, leaning back, his eyes glancing at the bedside table and brochures that lay on there. “So, what’s all this paperwork?” He began leafing through them.

  “Fuck if I know. Literature, I suppose, for my family to read through since I can’t.” She swallowed hard. “They brought it in earlier when mom and Jane were here, before I kicked them out and called you.”

  Keith glanced at the broken vase of flowers against the wall. “Yeah what happened with the vase?”

  “Oh, where do I even begin? Jane and Mom came back after the doctor left, trying to baby me, of course, then mom started crying hysterically, calling all the doctors in here, demanding second opinions, making me pretty much a nervous wreck.” Keith knew she’d spent most of her adolescence taking care of her alcoholic mother. “How fucked up is it that I have to console her?” Tori huffed. “I asked her to leave as politely as possible, and she came back an hour later smelling of even more booze than she did before.”

  “Oh lord…” Keith had never met the woman, but he knew they had bad blood.

  “If anyone needs a damn drink, it’s me. She brought me flowers. Said they were ‘Jasmine and very fragrant,’” Tori said venomously, “so I threw the vase against the wall and told her to get out.”

  “Good for you, Vicky.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s see here…” Keith thumbed through the pamphlets. “The Essential Guide to Understanding and Coping with Vision Loss, tagline, we cannot change the direction of the wind, but we can adjust our sails,” he snickered. “There’s a photo of a street sign underneath that directs to either hope or despair. Seems like our Vicky is heading down the trail of despair…”

  “Oh stop,” Tori bit.

  “What? I’m just reading you the literature,” he said innocently. “People who experience vision loss go through the same grief as those dealing with a terminal illness. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and then, finally, acceptance.” He put the pamphlet down. “I’d say we have anger covered.”

  Tori let out a huge breath. “I’m begging you to stop. Please.”

  “Now we
have bargaining,” Keith teased. “You’re making progress. That’s my girl.” Keith patted her on the leg. He grabbed the next few pamphlets, flipping through them one by one. “Ok, so seriously, there are like five blind schools here to choose from. Do we want to go with the one that has the horrible typography and bad stock photography, or the one who hired a reputable designer? And when I say bad, I mean Papyrus and old black lady with huge sunglasses smiling eerily into the distance.”

  Tori snorted. “Oh, that’s terrible.”

  “Yeah it’s pretty bad.” Keith laughed, placing them all back down on the table.

  Tori leaned her head onto Keith’s shoulder.

  “You’re going to get through this, Vic.”

  “Just let me have today to wallow in despair and self-pity.”

  “Ok, I’ll give you today, and only today, but tomorrow, you’ll wake up from surgery with a new face and a new look on life. If this is what life is going to be, Vicky, you’ve got to get on with it,” Keith said lovingly. “You sure I can’t convince you on a new nose and some collagen injections while they’re at it…”

  “I said no new nose, and definitely no collagen injections.”

  “You sure? Your face is like a blank canvas. If you give me free reign, I can turn you into a masterpiece.”

  “Or a drag queen, from the sound of it.”

  Keith chuckled devilishly.

  Thanks to the chemical help from Xanax, the car ride from the hospital wasn’t nearly as bad as Tori expected it would be. Apparently, cars didn’t frighten her, even though she was almost killed by one.

  With her sister coming and going from her apartment for some of her belongings the past few weeks, word had gotten around about her, so thankfully, there was no awkwardness of explanation. The doormen and the concierge were kind and friendly, but also ridiculously loud when they said hello.

  Seriously, I’m blind, not deaf, people.

  “Welcome home,” Jane said as she opened up Tori’s front door.

  “So that’s what my house smells like?” Tori chuckled wryly. The scent of her apartment smacked her in the face. It was a mixture of cedar, spices, and driftwood mixed with fruit undertones. It was like returning home from vacation—one can really smell their own scent. Except this was no vacation she was returning from.