chapter four

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

"Misfortunes one can endure--they come from outside, they are accidents. But to suffer for one's own faults--ah!--there is the sting of life."Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan.

 

 

 

It had to have been early morning, two or three at least. I couldn’t sleep once again, I was restless and no matter what position I placed myself in, I could not get in that one comfortable spot that you find just before falling asleep.

 

            Giving up, I pushed back the layers of my thick comforters and climbed out of bed, my bare feet cushioned by the span of carpet below them. The air was cold, and I shivered, wanting nothing more than to head back to the cozy warmth of my comfy bed.

 

The room was silent, nothing but the quiet hum of the furnace, random sighs and groans as the building swelled and shrank, the sound of my own soft heartbeat in my ears.

 

My bedroom was on the main floor, my mother converted the small dining room into my own space so I could get around safer and more effectively. She put up a few sheets of drywall to separate me from the kitchen and installed a door on the other side, allowing access from here to the living room; and from the living room the bathroom wasn’t hard to get to.

 

I padded my way carefully through the door and out into the mid-sized living room, staying close to the wall so I didn’t lose track of my surroundings. I felt along the wall until my left hand found a door frame, I slid my fingers over the smooth wooden door and grasped the cold, brass handle. My mother always kept the door closed for me, although I don’t fully understand how it would make much of a difference anyway.

 

I opened it silently; the hinges were only a year and a half old and didn’t squeak yet, thankfully. I flicked on the light, even though the illumination made no difference to a blind person; it was a habit I hadn’t yet grown out of.

 

The tap was just to my left and I let the hot water run for a moment to heat the pipes before scooping a bowl of the steaming liquid in my hands and splashing it onto my weary face.

 

I rest my head in my arms on the counter top for a moment, letting the water drip over my nose and chin to the tiled floor below before grabbing the face towel from the plastic, circular holder screwed into the wall beside me and dabbing the soft cloth to my face.

 

When I was finished, I shuffled back to bed, hoping for nothing but good dreams for the remainder of the night. I climbed in beneath the covers and pulled them up around my neck, I always slept on my stomach, so I grabbed fist full’s of the top comforter and wrapped it beneath my shoulders, pinning it underneath me.

 

It’s funny, everyone has thousands of dreams a night, but only the odd one or two you ever remember. How many important clues to our subconscious were we missing? Or were they just pointless, completely random scenes played out in our imaginations, the part of our brains where brilliant scripts are made, plot lines developed, intricate, new inventions were sought up. Whatever.

               

            I willed myself into those dreams, begged for just this one night of peaceful sleep, just one night of solid REM activity, stress free rest and mind rejuvenation.

 

My body ached all over, the muscles tight, bones chilled and skin sensitive to everything. I beckoned the night to take hold of my mind, cloak me in darkness, throw my consciousness into strange, imaginatory, complex universes and bazaar situations that only the sleeping mind could conjure up.

 

             I lay softly, listening to the steady, soft hum that whispered through the air in my bedroom. The soothing, gentle sound.

 

                                                ***

 

         

“What happened?!” My mother poked and prodded at the bruised skin around my nose, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing.” I tried to pull away from her probing hands but it was no use, she went where I went. I knew I should have devised some intricate explanation to account for my injury.

“Well this sure doesn’t look like nothing to me Quinn.” She stopped fussing and stood back to look at my face, “Where did you go last night?”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh.”

“No, answer the question. Where did you go?” Her voice was stern, it must look pretty bad.

“I went for a walk.” My emotionless, flat tone was back.

She wasn’t going to accept that answer as easily as I had hoped, “Where.”

I sighed, “Nowhere.” I didn’t want to explain what happened, I didn’t want to talk or be talked to, I just wanted to be left alone.

 

“Well then how did this happen?” She ground her heels hard into the floor as she paced in front of me, “don’t you one word answer me either. I want the truth.”

 

I sat in the chair like a zombie, ignoring her demands, ignoring her voice in general. She couldn’t intimidate me, she couldn’t faze me or make one single hair stand up and she knew it. I just didn’t care enough.

 

“Damnit Quinn! You broke your nose! You have two swollen, black eyes as a result. Did you even go to the hospital?”

I sat silently, my head turned away from hers; trying to remember the dream I had last night.

“Would you answer me?”

 

Jayce had been in it, I remember that. His annoying, cool attitude was present as well. I could see him, his strawberry blonde hair was short and scruffy, his bright green eyes so gentle and inviting. He was a little taller than myself, slender but toned; he was handsome but still annoying as ever.

 

I didn’t remember my dream exactly, just little bits and pieces of it; I remembered wishing Jayce would go away, to quit pestering me with his constant blatantness. To stop bugging me about my blindness, to stop hounding me with what he thought were innocent questions. To disappear from my head and stop intruding in my life. Had he been taunting me? Teasing me? Why was he in my dream? Jesus.

 

“They’re going to have to re-break it, I hope you realise that.”

I shrugged. What is done is done. There was no use getting worked up about it, but mothers being mothers, she had to turn it into some big deal.

 

            “Did someone do this to you?” She had stopped pacing.

I laughed tightly at the irony, “actually yeah.” She didn’t find it so funny. Her breath whistled through her nose angrily as she waited for me to elaborate.

            I groaned, “I tried to walk without my cane alright?”

Her breathing slowed, her frustration dimming, “What? Oh honey, why?”

            I turned my head away as she went to touch my face and she backed up.

 

            “Please don’t do that again,” She softened her voice, all anger was gone, replaced by pity. I couldn’t stand pity.

            “I needed to know that I could do it.” I didn’t expect her to understand what I meant, how could I? She must have thought I had gone crazy, lost my mind and she would probably be right.

            She kissed me lightly on the forehead, her lips were warm and soft, “You can do anything, it just takes time to learn how.”

 

Well thanks for that little bout of useful wisdom. I used to always go to my mom for advice, she had been such a help to me when I had moral or personal dilemmas. Back when I actually cared about cause and effect, when I cared about nature, human rights, and beliefs she had been an inspiration. Now, her words were like dull knives to a butcher; useless and ineffective.

 

“Like I said before, just please don’t try that again Quinn. At least try at home or in a safe place.”

“If I do it in a safe place then that defeats the whole purpose. What would even be the point of attempting it?” I concentrated hard to keep my mind on the conversation, willed it to listen, to speak, to be awake for once.

She sighed, “What is your purpose then Quinn? What is your reasoning for these sudden stunts?”

 

Her words were beginning to muffle, I was losing interest, “Nothing.”I didn’t want to waste any breath on a biased conversation; on something I could care less about winning.

 

She had an attitude now, a tone of authority, “Nothing? No, no, no. Don’t you shut me out; you could hurt yourself even worse than you already have.” I could feel her concern twisting into a long lecture and I really didn’t want to sit here and pretend to care. I didn’t even know what she said after that, her voice broke up and spread around the room in soft unintelligible whispers.

 

She stomped away for a moment and when she returned she tossed a heavy plate on the table in front of me, the hot steam rolled off it like foul heat waves, making my nose run. The sickening scent combination of greasy bacon, rubbery eggs and half burnt, buttery toast mingled together like one single, putrid stench, rolling my empty yet horrified stomach in nauseous waves.

 

I wrinkled my nose at the food she prepared for me; the poison, unwanted food.

 

My mother sighed, “Honey, just eat it. It won’t kill you.”

I poked my fork into the center of the eggs, ruining the ‘sunny side up’ and resisted the urge to puke, “Are you sure about that?”

I pushed the food around my plate with the fork, trying not to inhale the dizzying smell as much as possible as the phone rang loud and shrill.

 

My mother grumbled as she grabbed the cordless and answered with a single beep, “Hello?” Her voice was impatient, as if the call had intruded upon something important.

 

Her tone changed the next time she spoke, “oh, hi. How are you?” There was a short pause, “no, no. I was just making Quinn something to eat.” I rolled my eyes with the mention of my name as there was another, long pause. Soft mumbles made their way out of the phone from the other end.

“Well I’m trying but you can imagine how that could be.”

 Pause.

My mother laughed softly into the receiver, “she’s good, did you want to talk to her?” I snapped my head in her direction, a warning.

“Alright here she is. You too, bye.”

 

“Quinn, it’s Mary.” My mother whispered as she stepped within arm’s reach of me. Her familiar perfume, usually so gentle and smooth stung my nostrils, burning the soft tissue. I shook my head in protest but she persisted.

 

“She just wants to know how you’re doing. Don’t be rude.” She spoke quietly, no doubt covering her hand over the phone.

“I don’t care what she wants. I don’t want to speak to her. I don’t want to speak to anyone for that matter.” I slid my plate full of food across the table, not even a single bite absent and folded my arms across my chest

 

My mother was silent for a moment before speaking into the phone once again, “ah, Mary? Yeah, she’s not feeling too well at the moment, she’ll stop by the store and see you sometime soon though alright?” There was one more pause as my old boss spoke.

“Alright, talk to you later, bye Mary.” My mother hung up the phone with another beep and slumped down in the chair beside me. The joints of the wooden frame creaked under her light weight.

 

“You know, all you had to do was say hello.” Her voice was irritated, displeased with my resistance.

“And fuel her small talk, and answer the barrage of questions you and I both know she would ask.”

“Look. She is concerned about you, you haven’t spoken to anyone other than me since the accident, and even then you don’t really talk. No one knows what’s going on with you.”

“Oh I’m sure you have filled them in.” My tone had an edge to it, a sharp, serrated, defensive edge.

 My mother sat silently, and I knew she was frustrated with me, frustrated that I refused to listen, refused to ‘recover’ to her standards anyway.

 

I sighed and pushed onto my feet, leaving my guide cane on the floor beside my chair, “I’m going to go shower. Not that this wasn’t a nice little chat and all.”

 

She got to her feet with me, following me to the bathroom door as she spoke, “I just think it would be good for you to talk to people. Mary, your grandparents. Me.” She paused as I entered the bathroom, and I turned to face her, “Austin.”

I narrowed my eyes to thin, dangerous slits before slamming the door closed at her last, barbaric suggestion.

 

I didn’t snap on the light this time, I pulled on the tap to let the rumbling water heat up, stripped off my clothes, got a fresh towel from under the sink and placed it on the counter where I could easily reach it from behind the blue and yellow striped shower curtain- if my mother hadn’t replaced it since I lost my sight that is.

 

I carefully gripped the wall with one hand, and clenched a fistful of curtain in the other for support as I gently stepped into the slippery, ceramic tub.

 

The steaming water summoned pleasant goose bumps on my flesh as the heat smothered the unwelcome cold away. I stood there and let my hair and body soak for several minutes, thinking about what my mother had said.

 

She was right, I hadn’t talked to anyone one since the accident, but she was crazy if she thought I would start now, if I would pick up abandoned relationships, dust off my smile and parade it around for all to bear witness to.

 

Austin had been the last person I spoke to, although it was unwilling on my part. I remember the sirens, the shrieking, blaring, obnoxious sirens that echoed around me. The frantic voices, bustling noises, and thumping of my own shallow heartbeat.

 

I had been rushed to the hospital, carted off into the emergency room and had tubes and wires strapped to my skin within seconds. I remember I was freezing inside, but my skin burned, the cool touch of the doctors did not bring relief, only made my searing flesh sizzle even more. I winced with every touch.

 

The voices were muffled, each word echoing over its self, distorted as my consciousness weaned in and out of reality. My mind was disorientated, confused and trapped in a foggy haze of dizziness. The wheels of my bed clattered as they spun quickly over each bump or crack in the polished floor, that sound taking over all others, drowning them out in my ears.

 

They shoved a face mask over my nose and mouth when we stopped, pure oxygen pumping into my blood, and pricked me with countless needles; I saw nothing but the black abyss, which aided the sedatives they must have given me in making me go to sleep. Muffled voices, sounding distance lulled me to unconsciousness.

 

I had woken after who knew how long to the soft beeping of the ECG machine next to me and the soft voices of patients in beds around me. All I could smell was strong antibiotics, dried blood and gauze. My head pounded fiercely behind my eye sockets and the flesh where my IV’s were attached was sensitive and sore. I immediately tried to open my eyes and a short shot of panic surged over me when I still could not see; until I remembered the accident. I guided my hands over my body, examining my injuries.

 

My arms were swollen; countless wires were stuck out from under my skin and taped down with the strong adhesive that usually does more damage to your flesh then good.

 

I moved my fingers over my stomach and chest, tracing the outlines of each oddly shaped magnetic sticker, each wire that was attached to them plugging into the ECG machine.

 

I was wearing a thin, revealing hospital gown, my clothes were most likely thrown out, burnt and charred by the searing fire. I worked my hands up to my face, feeling each new flaw.

 

My neck was held straight and stiff by a spongy neck brace, my cheeks were bruised, swollen and sore as I lightly applied miniscule pressure. An awkward feeling, plastic tube was shoved down my throat and I tried not to bite my teeth into it. My nose was bandaged with a single, thin strip and my eyes were padded with thick layers of gauze. I scanned the surrounding skin, searching for any more imperfections.

 

 I felt a thin line of raised tissue beside my left eye and skimmed over the bumpy stitches gently. The gash started next to my temple and ran down, under my eye, almost tracing the bottom bone of my eye socket, stopping between the bridge of my nose and the corner of my eye.

 

“How are you feeling?” The voice startled me and I jumped, sending a wave of sharp pain through every nerve in my body. I shuddered until the pain subsided.

 

“Austin?” I recognized his voice, but barely. It was quiet now, raspy and in pain. It was difficult to speak with the tube in my throat and I wondered if he would be able to understand me at all. He must have, though, because he responded to my words.

He took in a shaky breath before speaking, “The nurse let me come see you after they bandaged my hands.”

I frowned with his words, or at least I thought I was frowning, it was hard to tell with all the swollen tissue, pain killers and dressings. “Your hands?”

            “Yeah, burnt ‘em pretty bad, but I’ll be fine.” He paused for a moment, searching for words most likely. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

 

I rolled my head to the side, away from him so he couldn’t see the battered remains of my face. “What happened?” My voice was hoarse, exhausted.

 

“Ah. Well, the fire department came when people called in with reports of heavy smoke where we were. They came just in time, dumped gallons of water from an airplane to help douse the fire-or at least tame it a little.

“They got to us by helicopter, a rescuer came down on a latter and strapped you onto a body board and carried me up. We were air lifted here.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

 

I touched my gauze covered eyes lightly, “What happened to-?” My voice cracked as I spoke, a lump growing in the middle of my throat.

He paused for a long time, “You were struck Quinn. Burning trees, branches, everything just kept falling around us, neither of us saw it coming. You started seizing and when you came out of it...”

I clenched my jaw together and spoke through my grinding teeth, “I’ll get better...”

Austin breathed deeply, “they tried.” He sighed, “Your blind. It’s permanent.”

 

My whole world faded away in that very instant. The smells melted away, all sounds became distorted, unrecognizable, my heart kept beating; the only sound I could hear and I wished it would crack, stop, fade like everything else. But it grew numb, everything grew numb.

 

Austin touched my arm, a touch I barely felt but I pulled away, letting him see my face now, see the ugly mess; the monster that I now was.

“Don’t touch me.” I hissed, snarling at him like a wild animal. “You did this to me! You destroyed me! Get out!” I screamed the words at my once dear friend. The shrill, fierce voice filled with nothing but hatred was not my own; it was a reflection of what I now looked like, what I felt, what I was.

 

“Get out!” I barked again. Austin remained for a moment before the quick footsteps of the nurses came in a panic and his left, echoing down the hall.

 

I leaned against the shower wall, resting my head on my arm. The hot water ran over my face, my mouth held open to breathe in the stuffy steam.

 

I didn’t wash my hair or body, just stood there in the warmth, never wanting to get out and face my disappointed mother, cruel, smirking world, selfish, unthinking citizens that went on everyday killing their selves without even realising.

 

I stayed until my skin turned raw from the hot water and my digits turned to prunes before reluctantly turning off the tap and wrapping in my towel, shivering with the cool air. Another depressing day.

 

Reviews

[Luna Northstar]

This chapter was really sad... I love how you created Quinn's character. It's sad, she's almost like a child whose striving to be independent, except a lot worse. I really do love this book so far, I can't wait to read more.

[Jessie Sianodel]

Sorry, I haven't been keeping up with the contest prizes : (

Anyway, the only mistake I saw is when Austin said "your blind, it's permanent" It should be you're.

We really get to see Quinn's anger here, and the reason her life is even more screwed over than we guessed. Great job!

[-Jaime-]

I'm liking the story better and better. Watch the over description again, little bit of grammar check. That's it; definitely improving as you write it.