CC 3

Catharine Wright

Mr. Breaton

EWC4U1-01

April 23, 2015

That Escalated Quickly

She heard them leave finally. They had been here for hours holding her hands, kissing her forehead. It had been difficult to appear unconscious the whole time. She had told the nurses not to let them or anyone in. She did not want to be here, but if she had to be the least they could do was respect her wishes.

Gabrielle opened her eyes and stared up at the grey ceiling tiles. The light was too bright at first and she needed her eyes to adjust. Slowly she turned to face the window. The orange tint meant that the sun would soon be gone. She pulled herself up gradually so she would not be too dizzy. Lying in bed all day was weakening. She had contemplated sleeping during the day and waking at night. Her love of the sunlight and bright colours, which were only revealed by daylight, had turned her against that idea. Her toes touched the cold vinyl floor and she shivered. Gabrielle padded over to the window and let the warmth fall on her face. The windows did not open and she wanted to make sure that her family had gone before she ventured out of the room. She surveyed the small space and noticed that they had left a duffel bag on the couch beside the bed. She walked over to it and unzipped the top. They had left her clothes and toiletries. Finally she could leave.

Gabrielle showered and put on the clothes her family had left. They were too big for her. She looked closely at the garments, they were used. Maybe they had been hers and she had just lost weight. Donning her glasses, her eyes like a camera struggled to focus. Adjusting to the lenses her world became sharp and clear. She retrieved her wallet from under the pillow. Pulling up her hood she slipped out of the room.

Walking fast, Gabrielle averted her gaze and stared at the floor. There was no telling which doctors or nurses would recognise her, so it was best to avoid them all. She exited. Monstrous brown buildings caged the unfamiliar street. The wind in her hair was freedom’s welcome. All she needed was a suitable hotel to spend the night. Darkness was coming. A red brick building labeled Queens Inn invited her.

The lady at the front desk turned up her chin at Gabrielle, perhaps because of her attire. What a loathsome woman.

 She got a room despite her appearance and upon entering she threw her bag on the ground and jumped on the bed. The duvet covers poofed all around her and she breathed in the scents of the bed; fresh and clean without a trace of chemical. There was no getting used to the thick scent of the institution. She slid her body off of the bed down to the floor and sat on the carpet.

“Now what?” she said. Silence greeted her. Beautiful silence. There is never true quiet in a hospital. Someone always needs something and nurses are bustling about. She pulled the duffel bag over to examine its contents more closely. Phone, wallet, clothes, charger, essential toiletries, and rings. She pulled the rings out: one from her parents when she was ten, an engagement ring, and a wedding band. She put the one from her parents on and placed the other two in her shoes. If she needed money she would sell them. Gabrielle’s indifference toward the metal objects surprised her. She walked back over to look at the rings. She did not remember.

“We can’t talk about it, it will cause her distress. Maybe we won’t tell her at all. It’s better that way,” said Patrick. She remembered the comment clearly because it was the reason they denied her knowledge.

This was the man that she had married. She did not know who he was. Gabrielle remembered the careful interrogation he had made when she had first woken up. She was in such pain at the time that she took no notice of the peculiarity of a husband interrogating his wife after she had been in a coma for a week. There was no relief in his eyes at her being okay. The relief came when she uttered three words.

“I don’t remember.”

Her family was no better, as they too were hiding something from her.  There were never secrets between the family members. Gabrielle was pacing trying to recall anything that she had heard that would tell her what had happened. Everyone she heard all said the same thing: it was the accident. Patrick was no doubt responsible for the families silence. She sat on the bed the heels of her palms digging into her eyes.

Think Gabrielle, Think!

Balcony. One word. In the haze of waking she had heard the nurse utter the word. Gabrielle knew that she would never kill herself. Tripping and falling off a balcony was a distinct possibility; she was accident prone. There was no reason why her family would withhold that from her. Then there was the issue of Partrick. The fear she felt when she looked at him.

Gabrielle stood and walked to the mirror. The shock of what she saw almost made her fall over. Of course she would have to get used to this. She expected to see an eighteen year old girl, but there was a woman staring back. The years were gone. Lost in an abyss. Her accident, as they called it, had stolen years away. Gabrielle reviewed the facts. There was a police officer that had come to see her after a few days of consciousness. Her lack of memory had allowed her to be rid of him quickly. Perhaps there was foul play. She knew that police would be involved when injuries of this magnitude were present no matter what the circumstances. Gabrielle spun around at the faint click of a door.

“What a lovely room. Seventh floor. You must have a wonderful view.” The dark figure advanced revealing a man.

“Patrick!”

“You are a resilient little thing, aren't you? I was sure my little nudge over the balcony would rid me of you. Well, let’s see you survive the seven story drop,” he said. Patrick came at her, grabbing her now frail figure and clasping his hand over her mouth. As he pulled her to the window, his other hand grasped hers and he closed her fingers around a lamp. The lamp smashed through the glass.

“I apologize for this, but you are a witness. Your conscience would not have let you keep quiet for long,” he said.

“Witness to what? I don’t understand.”

“It is easier now. If your suicide is later, they will start looking deeper into my situation and I can’t have that. Don’t worry, this time it will work and you won’t have to suffer in the hospital,” he said. He pushed.

The wind pulled at her hair as she plummeted toward certainty.