Page 154 of Unspoken Words
“Hospital.” My voice was coarse and barely above a whisper.
“Yes. Good. Do you remember what happened?”
Straining my brain for a memory, some kind of clue, a vision of the concert flashed like lightning. “The concert,” I said.
She nodded. “Yes, you were at a concert.”
My eyes shot to Connor, and I let out a sob.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” He released one of his hands from around mine and stroked the side of my face, his eyes exploding with concern and unspoken words.
“Your show,” I rasped. “I ruined your show.”
“You ruined nothing.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, his lips damp but firm, and for a second I thought they’d glued themselves to my skin when he didn’t retract them straight away.
“Can you remember what happened at the concert, Eloise?” The nurse pressed a button on the machine, and my arm all of sudden felt as if it were being squeezed.
I winced.
“It’s okay, I’m just taking your blood pressure.”
“I … I fell … off the stool.”
She nodded.
“Did I hit my head?” I tried to lift my arm to touch my head, and to see what was stuck to my chest beneath my hospital gown, but my arm lacked strength, and my hand was sore where an intravenous drip had been inserted into a vein.
“Yes, you did. But not too badly. Your head is fine.” She gave my arm a light pat.
Another memory pecked at my mind, and I pressed my eyes shut, remembering how tight and painful my chest had felt, my struggle for air … the sheer terror as my vision blackened. “I … I couldn’t breathe. My chest—”
The machine beside me beeped faster.
“It’s okay, Ellie. You can breathe now. You’re safe. Just try to relax.” She pressed a button and the squeezing eased. “Would you like a drink? You must be thirsty.”
I nodded.
She smiled and lifted a glass of water with a pink straw to my mouth. “Nice and slow. Not too much, okay?”
I took a small sip, the water icy cold. It was perfect.
“I’ve paged Dr Webb. He’ll be here soon to answer all your questions, okay?”
I nodded again.
“Good.” She placed the glass back down, picked up my chart, and marked a few things on it before slotting it into the holder at the end of my bed. “I’ll be just outside your door. Press the yellow button on the bedside remote if you need me.”
When she left the room, Mum and Dad swooped like birds, their hands on my face, their smiles wide, their eyes cautious.
I searched them for answers. “Did I faint?”
“Well, yes,” Mum answered.
“Beth, I think it’s best we let Dr Webb explain the details. We still don’t know the full extent of her condition.”
“My condition?”
My eyes shot to Connor and he looked down at my hand.
