forty: in which she asks the wrong questions

"Just learn to love pain and be patient" –The Weeknd, Devil May Cry

********************************

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was my mother.

She was leaning over me, smoothing a hand down my hair.

The beeping sounds, the bright light – all of it faded into the background. My mother was here and everything was going to be all right.

"Oh, Maya," she was saying, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Oh, Maya.

It was the last thing I heard before my eyes drifted shut again.

*~*

I learned that they moved me out of the intensive care unit once I started regaining consciousness yesterday. For four days, I'd remained heavily sedated; hooked up to machines, IV tubes in my arms, and a breathing tube down my throat.

Mild concussion.

Broken ribs.

Excessive blood loss.

Damaged kidney.

I knew what the doctor was saying but I couldn't make my brain understand that he was saying it to me, describing my injuries.

I didn't recognize him, and I'd thought I knew all the practicing doctors at Sallow County Memorial. This man was short and stocky, with laugh lines around bespectacled blue eyes and neatly-combed sandy-brown hair, and he told me to call him Dr. Anderson.

"The biggest issue was the blood loss, Miss Fenton," he went on to say, looking directly into my eyes. I had to admit that his eyes were warm, comforting, and I needed that. "You lost a lot of blood and since your blood type is so rare, we always start looking at family members before we even think of the blood bank. Your aunt was a match, and if it weren't for her, things would've turned out differently.

You can expect a lot of aches and difficulty being mobile while you recuperate. Surgery always takes its toll on a person's body, but you already know that, what with your occupation."

I'd tuned out after the mention of my aunt.

Aimee had been here? Aimee had given me her blood?

I was shaking, could see my body vibrating beneath the white sheets covering my lower half. I was crying.

When I looked at Dr. Anderson, he seemed sympathetic enough, but I suddenly didn't want him to be here.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask me, Miss Fenton?" he wanted to know, not sounding even a tiny bit put off by my tears.

I shook my head, but that was a bad idea. My head was still fuzzy. I had one IV in my forearm, and I could only assume that it was my morphine. No wonder I didn't feel any of these aches the doctor was talking about.

He stayed for a little while longer, telling me what was cause for concern – bleeding, of course – and what wasn't – lethargy. I listened as best as I could, waiting for the moment he would leave the room.

Now that I was fully awake – and in this sterile, private room filled with flowers and cards I hadn't bothered to look at – all I could think about was that I survived. I survived, and I felt awful about it.

I pressed the button that would elevate my upper body in bed, so I could be in a semi-sitting position. I had to take several deep breaths before I could muster the courage to lift the sheet and look at myself, but I did it anyway, throwing aside the cover. Several more breaths later and I could lift the hem of the hospital-issued paper-thin gown to expose my café-au-lait skin. With my skin, I bruised easily, and I knew it would show in purples and blacks and pinks.

Now's not the time to be scared, Maya.

But I was. I was a real coward and I couldn't look at my broken, torn body. I could feel that I was heavily bandaged, could feel the twinge that came with every breath I took. I could feel the tears that came with the knowledge that I was broken, inside and out, and there was no amount of Crazy Glue that could put me back together again.

The door swung open again and a nurse sauntered inside. She gave me a smile, heading over to the windows and pulling the white curtains apart.

"It's nice to see awake, Maya," she said brightly, after she'd just successfully blinded me. She approached my bedside, pointing at herself. "It's me – Megan. Remember?"

Megan Reston. Why would she think I wouldn't remember her? We went to nursing school together. She'd had a baby in high school. RJ – Robert, Jnr. Why would she think I wouldn't remember her?

"It's okay if you don't remember me, sweetie," she said, sounding patronizing. "God, after what you went through... The Irish, the Phantoms..." She shook her blonde head, green eyes filled with pity. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can get you? Do you want the bedpan?"

I shook my head, looking away. The light was beginning to give me a headache.

"Okay, well, press your panic button if you need anything. It'll be lunchtime soon and I'll be bringing in your tray," Megan told me. She patted me gently on the arm that wasn't linked to the drip. "Try to get some rest."

She was at the door when I cleared my throat and said, "Megan?"

"Yes, Maya?" She sounded eager, like she'd been hoping I'd stop her.

"Do me a favor," I began, my voice still raspy, "and don't allow any visitors."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "But...you've had so many people come by already waiting for you to wake up. Why would you –"

"Just family," I cut in. "Please."

"So," said Megan, "just your aunt?"

"Exactly."

"Alright. Maya. Your call. I'll let reception know."

And then she was gone.

I stayed awake for all of five minutes before I crashed again. I dreamed of nothing and everything. Relived the nightmare of being cut open while feeling nothing. Relived the horror of Keegan's death. Relived the moment I nearly took someone's life.

A different nurse brought my tray in and woke me up. She was older, and watched me like a hawk for a few minutes, making sure that I could actually lift up a plastic forkful of food, before leaving the room. I ate because I had to, not because I was hungry. I didn't taste any of it. Shortly after, I drifted off again, and when I woke up this time, it was because I felt someone's lips on my forehead.

"I'm sorry," the woman said quickly, drawing back. Her sandy brown hair was a tousled mess. "I was just kissing you goodbye. You looked so peaceful."

"Aimee?" I felt my heart clench. I didn't really think she'd come. Not after the first and last time I'd spoken to her, not after the way I'd treated her.

But she smiled down at me, setting her handbag down on the seat beside me. "I'm so glad you're awake, my liefie."

I focused on the last part. "What was that?"

"My love," she translated. "I'm so glad you're awake, my love. When I saw you...all bleeding and bruised..." She expelled a shaky breath. "I thought it was too late."

I hadn't heard a word of Afrikaans since my parents were alive. Liefde – how often did my mother call my father her love? I'd sit at the kitchen table, eating my cereal, swinging my bare feet under the table, listening to them exchange sweet nothings before work...

I shook the memories away. "I really want to thank you," I whispered. Why was my throat so sore, so scratchy? "For what you did. The blood donation."

"Maya, there's no need to thank me," she replied, sounding as sincere as she looked. "You are family; my late sister's only child. I would have done anything to help you."

I felt a pang in my chest, a burning in my throat – and then I was crying. Again. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, and I was pretty sure Aimee would leave then and there, but she gingerly put her arms around me, her chin on my head and my head pressed against her chest. With one hand, I clung to her, really crying now. She was stroking my hair, murmuring things I couldn't hear over my sobs, and eventually, she pressed her lips into my hair, kissing me.

After a while, she drew back, looking down at me. Her eyes were just as red-rimmed as mine probably were. With her fingertips, she wiped my tears away, ignoring her own.

I choked out a soft laugh. "I never wanted to see you again, and now you're here, touching my face."

She gave me a watery smile. "Is it okay that I'm here?" She sounded uncertain, and I just wanted to put her at ease.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

And it wasn't even just because she'd proven that I meant something to her by being here, by helping me. It was because this whole ordeal had shown me just how precious life was, how short it was, and how I would be a damned fool to let myself get sucked into a web of hatred.

"I know it's too soon," Aimee began, "but I would really like to know...what happened to you. I know the bones of it, but Maya, the police were here, and there were all kinds of people here and the way you were injured –"

"I'm not ready to talk about it."

She closed her mouth. "Of course. I understand."

It was just my luck that yet another knock came at the door and two men stepped inside. Even out of uniform, I knew who they were.

Speak of the devil.

"We're sorry, Maya, but we wanted to get your statement while everything's still fresh in your mind," the first cop said, dragging a hand through already messy dark hair. Scott Renley, from high school, was asking me about my abduction. Of course.

"Just tell us what you remember, Miss Fenton," the second cop suggested. I didn't know his name, didn't even recognize him. He was just as tall as Scott, only blonde and older. "I'm Officer Thompson."

They came to stand on my other side, opposite Aimee. She took my hand in hers and squeezed.

I didn't feel like myself and I just wanted to sleep again, but I knew it was better to get this out of the way now. Scott had said while everything's still fresh? It was always going to be fresh in my mind. I was always going to remember everything that had happened over the space of two days. How could I ever forget?

I recited the details of my ordeal in a monotone. My lips were moving but my mind was a blank. I forced myself to be numb as I told them about Keegan, about Portia and Tamara –

"Wait. The other girls – Portia and Tamara? They're okay, right?" I asked, breaking out of character and actually feeling something. Concern.

Scott nodded. "They were discharged from hospital two days ago. They'll be fine."

"Good," I said softly. "What about...what about Sebastian?"

Scott's brow furrowed. "What about him?"

"Wasn't he still...there? At the scene somewhere?"

"No," was his response. "You're saying you were in the basement with him, but there's no body and no Sebastian. We're sorry, Maya."

No...body? No Sebastian? I forced myself to ignore that and then I returned to my narrative.

By the time we were finished, I was emotionally and physically drained. Scott and Thompson thanked me, assured me that they wouldn't bother me again here in hospital, at least. Before they left, I had to ask.

"Where is James McNally now?"

It was Thompson who answered this time. "Oh, that sexual deviant's dead as a doornail, thank God. Slit throat."

***

Aimee came bright and early the next day, bringing me an armload of treats like I was a little kid. I didn't want to admit it, but I was looking forward to seeing her. So much so, that I forced down as much chocolate as I could physically stand, which pleased her.

An hour into her visit and she rose to her feet again, looking uncomfortable. "There's something I wanted to ask you," she said.

I braced myself to hear something I wouldn't like. "Okay..."

Aimee took a deep breath. "Your cousins," she started, "wanted to say hi. I told them that you're certainly not up to it yet, and I didn't want to push for it, but they know about what happened and they feel terrible. So what I wanted to ask is: Would you be okay with a Skype session? A quick one, I promise."

She was looking at me expectantly, waiting for my response. I just didn't know what to say. On one hand, I had stalked her and her kids on Facebook – Will is twenty-one and Danika is twenty-four – but on the other hand, it just wasn't the right time. For me, at least. I wasn't myself and I wasn't in any frame of mind to be sociable. I told Aimee this and she said she understood.

We sat and talked for a long time. Well, Aimee talked. I listened. It was comforting, listening to her accented voice and listening to her stories of her life in Pretoria. I did notice that she steered clear of any mention of her parents or mine. And that was okay.

I fell asleep after lunch and when I woke up, Aimee had left, but the room wasn't empty.

Kira was arranging things on the bedside table – things that I recognized as mine. My phone was plugged into the charger, I had my floral toiletry bag sitting on top of a Cosmopolitan magazine, and several bottles of spring water.

"Hey, stranger," I murmured, startling her.

"Maya!" she cried, getting ready to throw herself at me.

"Don't, Kira. You'll hurt me." I gave her a smile to soften the command.

She dropped her arms at her side, her bottom lip quivering. "I was so scared I was going to lose you, Maya. I thought you were dead. I thought –"

"I'll be fine, Keeks."

"Holy shit," she muttered, scrubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I'm crying?"

"Yeah. Not a pretty sight," I remarked, and she laughed.

I didn't realize how much I'd missed her until I heard that giggle of hers. She looked like any other twenty-something in a white T-shirt and ripped jeans, a world apart from me.

Kira pouted at me. "How could you tell them you didn't want any visitors?"

"Because I don't, Kira. I'm not up to it." And I don't want to see Jake. Not yet.

"Yeah, well, that's not going to fly with anyone. If Luke didn't have class today, he'd be right here with me, bawling his eyes out. I had to bribe someone to let me in, you know."

I smiled. "Sounds like you."

She smiled back. "It feels like forever since I've seen you."

"I know."

"I was hanging out with your aunt," she went on. "We met – again – when you were still in ICU. She's such a nice person, M."

"I know," I told her, and I did know. This near-death experience seriously put things into perspective for me.

"I don't know how you're doing this, Maya. Really, I don't," said Kira, her voice wavering. She reached for my hand on my lap. "You're the strongest person I know."

It certainly didn't feel that way.

"Do you know when you're being discharged?"

"My doctor thinks I'll be here for a couple more days," I replied. "Standard observation. I don't know if my insurance covers...this." What did I even call this? Abduction-slash-torture-slash-assault?

"Don't worry about insurance, Maya. I'm sure Rose Haven's got you covered," Kira reassured me, reminding me of my workplace and how long it had been since I'd even set foot there. She gave my hand a squeeze. "Do you know when they think Jake will wake up?"

I snatched my hand away. "What?"

"Do you know when Jake will come out of it?" Kira repeated, only this time, she spoke a little louder, thinking I just didn't hear her the first time.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest and dread settled in the pit of my stomach. "What are you talking about, Kira? Wake up from what?"

Her lips parted. "You...didn't know, did you?" she muttered. She let out a heavy sigh. "He's still in the ICU. Except he's still not conscious."

***

A/N: Next Wattpad update - to be announced

I am having a difficult time to find the energy to do much of anything and in case you missed my message, I had some obviously undercooked food and got food poisoning and I'm on day 3 of being in bed. hopefully I can at least finish the few paragraphs or so I have in order to update Khaos on Radish. Thank you guys for sticking by me, and to the people who wished me a speedy recovery - thank you, too <3