After a quick shower, a few bites of cold pizza from a few nights back, and a call to my coach, I made the drive back to the hospital.
Just be strong.
Breathe.
Deep…slow…breaths.
Everything is going to be fine.
She’s going to be fine.
Myla
Pain and confusion completely consumed every cell in my body.
“Myla?” Brayden’s voice sounded miles away. “Myla? Can you hear me?”
I tried to respond but nothing would come out. My throat was a desert begging to rain out words that formed questions and cries for help.
My hair was being stroked, but my eyes refused to open to see who was caring for me. I pictured my mother’s dainty hand gliding over my thin blonde locks as my brother tried to speak to me.
Where am I?
Why does everything hurt?
Why can’t I speak?
Why aren’t my eyes opening?
A foreign voice that was barely audible started to explain something to my brother. “…and that’s why she’s still really out of it. She will be in and out like this for a little bit longer. Why don’t we let her sleep some more and try back in a few hours?”
Sleep sounded all too blissful. I felt like Scarlett O’Hara in the scene where she is at Tara and life is just all too much for her to deal with in that moment. “I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.”
* * *
Soft beeping broke into my dream-filled daze as my eyelids struggled to open. Shuffling and footsteps were the next sounds I could understand.
“Mom?” My voice was raspy and strained as tears started to fill my stinging eyes.
My brother’s deep voice was kind. “No, My. It’s just me.” I could feel his fingertips brushing my long bangs away from my forehead and cheeks. “It’s nice to see you awake.”
“What?” I started choking, gasping, and coughing uncontrollably. Everything hurt—my throat, chest, legs, stomach, back, face, eyes, lips. I was shivering and sweating. My body felt like it weighed a million pounds. If my hair could have hurt, I was sure it would have been screaming in pain at that point.
“You were in an accident. Do you remember anything?” Brayden’s calm tone was freaking me out the most.
The memories of the crash started to flood my mind and I started hyperventilating. “Mom? Where’s Mom?”
Brayden’s fingers laced with mine as he started to tell me about the accident. “I’m so sorry, Myla. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
My eyes would barely open and the tears filling them made it damn near impossible to see, but the pain on my brother’s face was something I would never be able to forget. That moment was seared into my brain—the split second when life turned into a complete horror.
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Offsides: A Standalone Sports Romantic Comedy Page 8
