Amara blinked her eyes open to an unfamiliar room, déjà-vu hitting her hard, as her heartbeat escalated in panic. The sudden sound of beeping had her looking to the side, to see some kind of monitor with wires, the kind that she’d seen in movies.
Hosp
ital.
She was in the hospital.
Memories assaulted her and she took a deep breath, pushing them back into a vault.
Not now. Not now. Not now.
“Mumu?”
The voice had her eyes flying to see her mother at the door, her eyes wet and swollen, and Amara felt a noise leave her chest. Her mother ran to her, careful of the tubes going in her body, and hugged her tight to her chest, petting her hair like she always did.
Amara broke.
Wailing, her body remembering the pain and her mind remembering the moment it splintered, Amara sobbed as her mother held her, gentling her with kisses to her head, murmuring soft words to her that didn’t make any sense. They didn’t have to. Her mother was there and Amara was safe and loved and that was all that mattered. She could feel her mother crying with her and it was that which made her pull back to really see her. Her green eyes were shimmering with pain for her daughter, her mouth still in a gentle line, her ma looked exhausted and heartbroken and so, so loving.
Amara took a deep breath as her mother wiped her tears with her hand.
“We’ll get through this, Mumu,” her mother told her gently.
She opened her mouth to speak when a throat cleared from the door and a woman her mother’s age, clearly the doctor, entered the room.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake, Amara,” the doctor gave her a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”
Amara started to speak when the doctor shook her head. “No, don’t speak yet. Just nod or shake your head, okay?”
She felt her mother squeeze her hand. Confused, Amara agreed.
“Do you know what day it is?” the doctor asked.
Amara shook her head.
“It’s January 6th,” the lady informed her.
Amara’s mind went reeling. Her last memory before her abduction had been in December. How? Her confusion must have been evident on her face as the doctor spoke again. “You were taken for over three days. And you’ve been here for two weeks under an induced coma.”
Shock filtered through her system.
“Your body was severely traumatized and needed to begin its healing process,” the doctor went on. “We felt under the circumstances, it would be best for both your mind and body to rest for a bit.”
Amara grit her teeth, processing everything she was being told.
“Your mother mentioned you’ve always had a low pain threshold?”
Amara nodded. She had never realized how low of a threshold it had been until the monsters had her.
The doctor continued with sympathy in her eyes. “That is probably why some of your injuries had such severe reactions. I’m sorry for everything you went through, Amara. But there is more I need to tell you. Is it alright if I continue?”
Amara liked the fact that the doctor asked her the question, giving her a choice. She looked at her mother, sitting strong beside her, and gave the doctor a nod.
“You have some acid burns and cuts on your back, sides, and feet that will more than likely scar,” the doctor went on. “The worst of the scarring will be over your wrists. The good news is that they’re all healing very well. You can have cosmetic surgery down the line to minimize them if you want.”
Amara looked down at her wrists and feet, wrapped in white gauze. She was probably on pain killers since she couldn’t feel anything more than a twinge.
“Amara?” the doctor called, calling her attention back to herself, her eyes even more sympathetic. “You cannot use your voice for at least the next month. Your screaming severely damaged your vocal cords, to the point we had to do surgery. It happens in extremely rare cases but I feel your low pain threshold resulted in that.”