Secret Lucidity(5)

The man’s voice lassos my attention again when he asks, “And her injuries?”

“She’s suffered a nondisplaced skull fracture with several lacerations, which we’ve closed up with sutures.”

What the hell happened?

My heart pounds deep within, echoing pump after pump in my ears.

Think, Cam. What happened?

“She has an AC separation to her right shoulder,” the woman, who I assume is a doctor or nurse, continues as chills of panic shock my system into alertness.

Wake up. Wake up.

The static voices yield to clarity as they continue to talk. My senses slowly come back to life, working together to allow my eyes to open, but it doesn’t last more than a second before everything turns into a mist of vapor, and I feel myself sinking back into the abyss.




“Where are my training wheels?”

“You’re in kindergarten, sweetheart. It’s time you learn to ride this thing on two wheels,” Daddy says as he stands by my glittery pink bicycle.

“I’m scared. What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you,” he assures. “Stop worrying and strap on your helmet.”

The bike wobbles from side to side as he holds on to the back of my seat so I can climb on.

“Don’t let go,” I call over my shoulder as we start down the empty street.

“Just keep pedaling.”

With my grip tight around the handle bars, the bike steadies, balancing beneath me, and I smile as the silver streamers fly in the wind.

“Don’t let go, Daddy,” I holler again as I pick up a little more speed.

“You’re doing it!” his voice echoes from far behind.

He let go.




My body jerks. A surge of unrelenting pain jolts through my system, and when my eyes snap open, blinding light greets me. I react with a gasp, but nothing happens except painful gagging.

Oh my God! I can’t breathe!

My hand flies to my mouth, and I startle when I feel a plastic tube.

What’s happening? Someone help me!

Voices flood the room, and I freak out. My body thrashes out of my control, excruciating agony slices through my bones as my pulse spikes in utter fear. I grab at the tube shoved down my throat, but someone captures my wrist, pinning it down to the bed while my other arm is strapped against my chest.

“It’s okay,” a woman says, and then I feel another set of hands on my ankles, pressing me down and robbing my body of movement. “I need you to look at me, Camellia. Can you look at me?”

Every one of my muscles shudders violently in terror and confusion as I wince against the stabbing pain in my neck and shoulder.

“Everything is okay.” Her tone is soothing as she tries to coax me from my panic. “You’ve been in an accident. You’re in the hospital, but you’re okay.”

An accident?

My mind scrambles to find truth in her words, but my wildly racing heart won’t let me think straight.

“Can you hear me?”

I finally force my attention to where she leans over me. She’s blue-eyed and blonde, and I notice a small golden angel pinned to her scrubs. I nod as I zero in on the pin.

The pounding in my chest soothes as I remain on my focal point.

She lets go of my wrist and continues talking to me, informing, “You have a tube down your throat that’s breathing for you. Let it do the work, okay?”

Another nod.

I notice her angel pin has a tiny chip in the gold on one of the wings, exposing the smallest vein of gray beneath.

“Camellia?”

“Is she okay?”

I turn my head and find a guy standing across the small room. It takes a minute for me to process that it’s Coach Andrews.

What’s he doing here?

“Camellia, can you look at me?” I shift my attention back to the nurse. “I’m going to take the tube out. It’s going to feel a little funny when I remove it, but it’ll be quick.”

She continues to talk to me, telling me what she is doing every step of the way. When the tube comes out, I gag against it, coughing and retching. My eyes water as I fight against the urge to throw up.

“It’s out,” she says, as I take in a few deep breaths to quell the nausea.

I wipe a spot of spit from my chin, and when I look over to Coach, my memory jogs.

The portfolio.

“I’m Nurse Hinton, and I work at Mercy Hospital,” the woman tells me when she returns to my bedside. “You were brought here by ambulance. Do you remember what happened?”

I close my eyes and see prisms of colors before I blink them open again.

“A truck hit us.”

“Anything else?”

I take a moment to let the hazy recollections piece together. Dad. My eyes widen. “My dad. Where’s my dad?”

The nurse looks at Coach Andrews as he takes a step toward me and then stops. His eyes move to hers, and he looks . . . nervous.

Watching the exchange between them makes my anxiety grow. “Where is he? And where’s my mom? Why is nobody here?”

The nurse places her hand over mine and, with a gentle voice, tells me, “You were in a very bad accident.”

“Where are my parents?”

Coach moves over to my bedside. “Cam . . .”