Page 2 of Revelation (Love Isn't What It Seems 3)

“Where is her mother?”

“I’m not sure,” the voice belonging to a stranger answered.

“Aren’t you too young to be a doctor?” My grandfather’s voice was as sharp and cold as the Arctic.

The question was followed up by a tense silence, the beeping sound of a machine louder with each beep.

“I’m Dr. Mack,” the doctor replied calmly. “I’ll be your daughter's doctor.”

“She’s not my daughter.”

“Sir,” another man’s voice. “I’m Officer McPatrick.”

“Where is the girl’s mother?” My grandfather barked at the man.

“There weren’t any other survivors, sir. The crash was fatal to the boy and the mother. You were called because you were listed as the girl’s next of kin.”

What survivors? What happened? My mind was hazy, the memories jumbled. Where was I? I couldn’t remember how I got here. I reached back through my memories; the last thing I remembered was dancing at the party.

Silence followed, the only interruption the constant beeping of the machine. “I understand this is a difficult circumstance for you and I am sorry for your loss. Your granddaughter will need you now more than ever,” he added in a soft tone.

Don’t hold your breath, I wanted to scream at him.My grandparents feel nothing!

But either it was my fear or the fact I was pumped full of pain medication that choked the words in my throat. I heard my grandfather scoff and grumble something under his breath. He was an uncaring, selfish bastard.

“This girl is lucky to have survived,” the doctor continued when my grandfather remained quiet. “It is too early to tell the extent of her injuries. Her one leg is broken and she has fractured ribs. Her lungs were punctured. For now, we’ve stabilized her. It will be a miracle if she comes out of it with no long-term scars.”

How can I hear them?Maybe it was all a dream. A nightmare.

My mind was fuzzy, memories hiding from me. I kept trying to reach for them, to remember how I ended up here. But nothing came.

The only thing lingering in my mind was Brian’s laughter as he held me. We sang and danced along to the song.We went to a concert, the thought came out of nowhere.

The memory of his warm arms as he held me lingered somewhere in the far corner, his warm breath as he whispered sweet words in my ear. My chest hurt so bad, suffocating me with each breath I took with the assistance of the machines. The pounding in my heart intensified with each beat, in the worst way possible. I was drowning in emotions, each working organ within my chest was causing me agony. The beeping sound of some machine intensified, sending a sharp pain through my brain.

There was movement, someone poking and prodding me, loud voices, but I was lost in my own mind.

What is happening?I needed to remember. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be with Brian. My brain was hazy and tired, but I ignored the exhaustion. Instead, I dug through my memories but came out with a blank page.

If only I left the memories hidden. Sometimes the truth was far worse than knowing.

* * *

I sat in the wheelchair,staring out at the vast garden of my grandfather’s estate. The view was beautiful, the atmosphere in this house the exact opposite. Four months… it had been four months since the accident, and I already wished for a way out. The air was choking me, pain and grief my only companion.

“Are you sleeping well at night, Layla?” Dr. Johnson’s question returned my attention to my therapist. They said it helped to talk about it, but there was nothing to say. The few memories from that night that I had, I wished I could forget. The images that haunted me day and night.

How did the accident happen? What caused the crash? The only thing I knew was what I had been told. My body was slowly recovering, but my memory refused to come back. I couldn’t remember anything useful, only blurry, bloody images. No recollections of how the accident happened. No recollections of driving.

“You killed them.”

I heard echoes of my grandfather’s cold and hateful voice. He had thrown those words in my face so many times. It took him exactly a week after my discharge to enlighten me with the truth.

The truth I couldn’t recall no matter how hard I tried.

God, I wished it was a truth that remained hidden from me forever. Misery choked me and guilt ate at me, slowly but surely. Those two feelings were sure to kill me eventually. But my grandfather said I was a true Cambridge now.Selfish, careless, and self-centered.

They say be careful what you wish for.

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