Page 1 of Safe
1. DANIELLE
This time, there would be no keeping things a secret. Unable to open my eyes, the passing fluorescents overhead permeated my eyelids. Their quick, rhythmic pattern mimicked the urgent speed with which I was being carried away. Any attempt to listen to what the people around me were saying was ruined by an underwater-like blockage in my ears. The muffled sounds of a familiar voice filtered through. My brother? Was that my brother? I listened a little longer, though I couldn’t make out much of what was being said. Once I realized that it was Alex, a calming sensation took over. This was it. He was here. I didn’t have to hide things from him anymore. I didn’t have to lie and withdraw from him, the one person who truly loved me, anymore.
When I was 13, our parents died in a car accident, and Alex became my legal guardian at just 17 years old. Ever since, he’s been so protective of me, keeping me as safe as he possibly could. He had given up his life to take care of me, so the least I could do was stay out of trouble.
Even when he joined the Army and left for boot camp, he made sure there was someone he trusted around to look after me. That was the only time he ever left me in anyone else’s care, but even then, I was too scared to do anything to disappoint them.
Even though I hated that he left me, I knew he had no choice; after all, he needed to do what was best for us. Our lives became a lot easier once Alex joined the military. There was no more scraping by for food or struggling to pay rent. Alex didn’t have to take on tons of side jobs or hop from one job to thenext anymore. Even though he was often away, I always felt safe. There was no way I could have told him what was happening before today.
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of another voice. This time, I could hear a little better. Someone was talking to Alex.
“– police...did they find…”
The murmuring voices were indistinct, a muffled drone I couldn't quite decipher. Exhaustion weighed me down; I lacked the strength to strain my ears. Fragments of conversation drifted to me, then faded. Then, Alex's voice, clear for a moment:
"We'll find..."
The words hung in the air, unfinished, unsettling. We'll find what? Had he run? Was I in fact safe, or did I just trade one danger for another? Was Alex about to leave me? How much did he really know? Was he angry? The unanswered questions clawed at me, each one bringing a fresh surge of anxiety.
The pride our parents would have felt seeing Alex in uniform… it still aches. He was an extraordinary protector. He possessed a unique empathy I've never witnessed in anyone else; a gift that calmed anxieties, instilled safety, and diffused tension with effortless grace. It was incredible, and precisely why breaking his heart was so agonizing.
Leaving the home we'd shared for a decade was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Not a day has passed in the last two years that I haven't felt the weight of his self-blame. He believes he's responsible for my leaving, that he was overbearing, obnoxious. But the truth is, I left to protect him; to shield him from what was happening to me, to spare him the crushing weight of failure. I wanted him to believe I was okay, happy, that this was how things were meant to be. He couldn't protect me forever; someday, he'd have to let go, pass the torch. I needed him to believe that day had come.
I know it was difficult for him. For ten years, his life revolved around raising and protecting me. Imagine waking up at twenty-seven, and for the first time in ten years, being responsible for no one but yourself, with no one to shelter and protect.
Getting a roommate helped. I didn't know much about him, only that he'd served with Alex and, as Alex put it, was searching for a new purpose. In a way, they were good for each other. What was good for me ceased to matter. Alex needed to find his own life again. I couldn't consume any more of it, and my own life needed to remain a secret. I regret pushing him away, but it felt like the smartest way to protect him. The less he knew, the less he worried, the better.
An interruption broke through the fog in my mind, slowly resolving itself despite a deafening ringing in my ears. Alex's voice was the only one I could distinguish among the chaos of voices. The movement had stopped. A harsh, bright light seared my eyelids, which I couldn't force open. More footsteps, more voices entering the room.
A hospital. Even through the darkness, the realization hit me. The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor, the pressure of wires against my skin—I felt them even though I couldn't move. How bad was it? My memory was blank. Was I dying? Exhaustion washed over me, a weariness that blurred the edges of consciousness. A strange, welcome drowsiness settled in. As I gave in to my body, Alex's voice reached me one last time.
"I'll be right here."
-
Consciousness flickered back as a bright light seeped into my eyes. How long had I been unconscious? I couldn’t tell if I was awake or existing on the border between life and death. I attempted to open my eyes. A sliver of light was enough to blindme, but after a few minutes of painful adjustment, the room shifted into focus. My eyes darted around, searching for clues, for any indication of what had transpired, or how long I'd been here.
The whiteboard on the wall offered little. No date, just my name, the nurses' names, and two stark notes: “Immobile” and “No solid food.”
Great, I thought with bitter sarcasm. My memory was still a void. The bedside table overflowed with flowers and a cheerful "Get Well Soon" balloon. Turning my head was an agonizing effort. I attempted a slow, painful rotation to the left. And then I saw him. Alex. Slumped in a chair, asleep, his unshaven face was evidence of sleepless nights. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a week.
"Hey, bro," I whispered, my voice weak and raspy as hell.
Alex jolted awake, his eyes cracked open, full of relief. "Danielle! Holy shit, you're awake! The doctors said it could be days, maybe weeks, before you woke up."
Days? Weeks? The words hung heavy in the air. How long had I been here?
"Sorry," he rushed on, "you must be thirsty. Can I get you some water? How are you feeling? Should I get a nurse? I'm sure they can get you some pain meds if—"
"Alex, slow down. I'm okay, just some water." He had one foot out the door before I even finished speaking. While he was gone, I tried to assess my condition. Movement was excruciating. Lifting my head was a monumental effort, revealing casts on both legs. A sharp, searing pain shot through my back at the slightest attempt to sit up. My mind was a blank canvas, devoid of memory.
"It's pretty bad, Danielle," Alex said with minimal attempt to choke back his emotion, holding a glass of water with a straw. He was close to tears. I tried to sit up, but hishand pressed against my shoulder, easing me back down. He sat beside me, angled the cup, and brought the straw to my lips.
"Thanks, Alex." My voice was a little stronger now, but the questions ate away at me. "How long have I been here?"
"Six days."
"SIX DAYS?!" Panic. Six days unconscious?
