Chapter 2: The White Room

Lana's Point of View

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was white.

It's not the soft kind of white. It is bright and sharp and all over the place. White above me. All around me is white. White pressing in from all sides until it feels like it might get inside my head. I blinked hard, hoping the colour would go away, but it didn't. It just keeps spreading, like fog that won't go away.

A noise cuts through it.

Beep.

Then another.

Slow. Steady. Wait.

I listened for a moment to figure out what the sound was. It feels like my head is too big for the rest of my body. There is a dull, heavy weight behind my eyes that makes it hard to think clearly. I tried to move my hand a little bit to show myself that I can..

My fingers barely moved.

Something is pulling on my skin, making it feel tight and uncomfortable. I turned my head and looked down at my arm. A clear tube goes into my hand and is taped there. The skin there looks thin and pale. My hand looked tiny. Not big enough. As if it belongs to someone else.

I swallowed and the pain in my throat hurts and burns.

"Hey?" When I tried to talk, my voice sounded thin and weak, like paper rubbing against paper.

A face leans into my line of sight from above. A woman in blue clothes .. Not a single strand of her hair is loose; it's all pulled back tightly. She was watching me closely with calm eyes, as if she didn't want to scare me.

"Hi," she says in a soft voice. "You're awake."

Her mouth moves slowly, and each word is soft and spaced out, as if she is carefully picking them.

"Where am I?" I tried to ask, but the sentence falls apart before it gets to the end.

She said, "You're in the hospital." "You were in an accident."

The word "accident" hits me hard in the chest, like a stone falling into still water. It makes my heart race.

"Car?" I ask. The picture comes back in parts. A lot of light. The sound is loud. Falling.

She gives a nod. "Yes." A car hit you.

My breath speeds up without me asking it to. Too quickly. Not deep enough. My chest goes up and down like it's trying to get out of my body. My hands curled under the blanket and held on to the fabric tightly.

"Hey," the woman says quickly. She raises her hand but stops short of touching me, leaving space between us. "It's fine. "You're safe."

Safe.

When she said it, it sounded nice. Smooth. Warm.

It doesn't seem real.

My eyes move slowly and uncertainly around the room. Walls that are white. The ceiling is white. The white sheets were pulled tighty around me. There are machines close by that are quiet but watching, and there are wires going from them to my body. It smells like everything has been cleaned too many times.

"Is there anyone here for you?" the woman asks in a soft voice. "Family?" "Are you a friend?"

I opened my mouth to speak.

Nothing happens.

I try to think of something to say, like a name or a face, but I can't find anything. It feels like being in a room with no chairs, where you can't sit or rest. I looked harder, and my head started to hurt from the effort.

"I... I don't know," I say softly.

Her eyes changed a little bit. They got softer. A quick but real shadow of sadness passes through them.

"That's fine," she said. "We can go slowly. You don't have to remember anything right now.

She stepped back and gave me room, and all of a sudden the room seemed bigger. Too big. The quiet is getting thin.

I looked to the side because I needed something else to look at. There is a window there. Outside, the night is dark and heavy against the glass. Rain falls in thin lines, racing to the bottom.

There is a chair next to the bed.

There is someone in it.

A guy.

He is asleep and bent over, with his elbows on his knees. His knuckles are white because his hands are so tightly locked together. It looks like he is holding himself together. With each breath, his shoulders slowly go up and down.

Something is pulling in my chest.

I know him.

No.

No, I don't.

My body reacts before my mind can catch up. My breath stops suddenly and sharply. A warm feeling spreads through my chest, low and soft. My fingers curled again, but this time it's not because I'm scared; it's for some other reason I don't know.

My brain senses danger.

My body longs for home.

I can't stop looking at him.

The woman looked at  where i was looking. "That's Adrian," she says in a low voice. "He came with you." He's been here all night.

Adrian.

The name rings in my head once, then again, like it is looking for a place to land. It doesn't stay. It goes away, leaving only an empty feeling.

I slowly shake my head. "I don't.." The sentence stops, not finished.

At that point, the man moves.

He lifts his head and blinks, as if he knows I'm watching him. His face looks tired and worn out. There are dark lines under his eyes. His hair is messy and falling in front of his face. He looks like he hasn't slept in a long time.

He stops moving when he sees me awake.

Then he gets up too quickly. The chair makes a loud noise as it scrapes against the floor, which is very quiet.

"You're awake," he says.

His voice gets under my skin in a way that is warm and familiar, but doesn't make sense.

I flinch before I can stop myself.

He sees it. He stops right away, as if he has run into an invisible wall.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

He stays where he is, neither moving closer nor farther away. His hands are shaking a little and hanging at his sides, as if they don't know what to do.

I pull the blanket up higher to cover more of myself. I hold the edge tightly with my fingers.

"Do you know me?" I ask.

The room is quiet.

The steady beeping gets louder in my ears, or maybe my ears are just louder now. My heart is racing and beating hard.

He swallows. His jaw gets tight. He nods once.

"Yes," he says. "I do."

I shake my head slowly and firmly. "I don't."

The words are sharp and heavy between us.

Something shines in his eyes. Pain. Surprise. He turns his head away for a second, then makes himself look back at me.

He says, "That's fine." The same words again. Just like everyone else. "You don't have to right now."

Right now.

That means later.

Fear creeps up my back, cold and slow.

"What happened?" I ask. "Why were you there?"

He opens his mouth and then closes it. He takes a breath and picks his words carefully, like someone walking on thin glass.

"You ran," he says in a quiet voice. "Into the road."

I frown. "Why?"

His shoulders drop, as if the question is weighing him down. "You were scared."

The answer makes my stomach turn.

What are you scared of?

Are you afraid of him?

My heart starts to race again, quickly and unevenly.

"I want to be alone," I say, and the words come out sharper than I thought they would.

The woman moves closer right away. She tells him gently but firmly, "She needs rest."

Adrian shakes his head too quickly. "Of course."

He steps back once, then again. He keeps looking at me the whole time.

He stops before he gets to the door. His fingers are spread out on the frame.

He says, "I'll be right outside." "If you need anything. Anything at all.

I don't answer.

The door closes with a soft sound.

The sound seems final.

I can't explain why my chest hurts. I put my face on the pillow. It smells like nothing I've ever smelt before—clean and sharp. Tears come without asking, hot and quiet, soaking into the cloth.

I cry for the road.

For the light.

For the name that sounds like mine but won't stay.

I hear a low, broken sound outside the door.

A man's voice.

Breaking.