God, for letting her find help! At their approach, I collapse in exhaustion, wailing at their feet.
CADEN
MY BREATHING IS HEAVY. SWEAT pools beneath my overheated body and trickles down my forehead, finding its way beyond my small tragus bump and into the opening of my ear. My eyes flutter beneath my lids, trying to escape the vision that unfolds before me. There is no relief from this haunting scene. My eyelids seem to be glued shut. Trapped, I kick at the heaviness weighing me down. The water won’t stop roaring around me. Screams. Water. Rolling. Twirling. Crunching. Flying. Dizziness invades my senses.
Wake up, Caden. Wake up . I know I’m stuck in that place halfway between sleep and awake, but I need to convince myself to wake up and make it stop. The same haunting nightmare has been on a continuous loop for days. I kick my feet wildly, finally freeing myself from the suffocating mountain of covers. Finally free to move, I shift my weight so I can roll to the edge of the bed. The shock of the searing pain in my arm instantly pops my heavy, swollen lids wide open, reminding me of why I’m here, lying in a hospital bed. The light shining through the window pierces my sensitive eyes, blinding me momentarily. Looking away from the glare, I try to blink away the fresh black spot burning a hole in my vision.
As it begins to vanish and my vision clears, I notice I’m still here. Room 78B. I hear the rhythmic tick of the clock, mixed with the beeping and clicking of the machines behind me. Looking around the room, I find that I’ve been left alone. It’s still early. Otherwise, my parents would be right next to me, asking more questions and trying to get me to talk. I read the clock on the wall. It’s 6:30 a.m. My parents must still be home getting ready for another day of Operation Hide Crap from Caden. Focusing on the chart that hangs beyond the foot of my bed, I can just make out a few of the details. Caden Woodley. Dislocated Elbow. Liver Lacerations. Severe Hypothermia. The words are followed by a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo that I don’t understand. And then I zone in on the date. It’s December first.
It’s been three days since the firemen found us and flew us into Jefferson Medical Center, and I still don’t know anything about Peyton and her condition. The only question they’ve answered is how we were rescued. I guess the worst fire season on record was a blessing after all. Apparently, there were firemen doing a routine check on the fire damage in the Russians and Marbles. They spotted Marissa running down the snowy highway, frantically waving for help. She led them to the scene of the accident. If it wasn’t for our new friend and the first aid skills of the firemen, I would’ve probably bled out, and the rest of us would’ve died from hypothermia.
Aside from the vague details of our rescue, Mom and Dad don’t have any other answers they are willing to give me. Kaitlyn, Jenna, and Mason won’t talk to me about anything related to the accident. Even my best friend Brody hasn’t opened up. Nobody who was there with me will tell me anything. Why won’t they tell me the truth about what’s going on with Peyton? How is she doing? How serious are her injuries? Is she going to make it? What are they keeping from me?
The only comfort I have right now is knowing that she came in alive. She was lying beside me when I woke up in the helicopter. When my fingers curled around her icy hand, I swear I felt a tiny squeeze. There’s no way that was just a reflex. We landed right afterward. They didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye. They rolled her off as soon as the door opened, and I haven’t been allowed to see her or hear from her since. No updates. No communication. Nothing. What are they hiding from me? I know one thing. I’d better start getting some answers soon, or I’m going to break out of here. I don’t care if they tie me down. I’ll gnaw through the damn straps with my teeth. I
CADEN
MY BREATHING IS HEAVY. SWEAT pools beneath my overheated body and trickles down my forehead, finding its way beyond my small tragus bump and into the opening of my ear. My eyes flutter beneath my lids, trying to escape the vision that unfolds before me. There is no relief from this haunting scene. My eyelids seem to be glued shut. Trapped, I kick at the heaviness weighing me down. The water won’t stop roaring around me. Screams. Water. Rolling. Twirling. Crunching. Flying. Dizziness invades my senses.
Wake up, Caden. Wake up . I know I’m stuck in that place halfway between sleep and awake, but I need to convince myself to wake up and make it stop. The same haunting nightmare has been on a continuous loop for days. I kick my feet wildly, finally freeing myself from the suffocating mountain of covers. Finally free to move, I shift my weight so I can roll to the edge of the bed. The shock of the searing pain in my arm instantly pops my heavy, swollen lids wide open, reminding me of why I’m here, lying in a hospital bed. The light shining through the window pierces my sensitive eyes, blinding me momentarily. Looking away from the glare, I try to blink away the fresh black spot burning a hole in my vision.
As it begins to vanish and my vision clears, I notice I’m still here. Room 78B. I hear the rhythmic tick of the clock, mixed with the beeping and clicking of the machines behind me. Looking around the room, I find that I’ve been left alone. It’s still early. Otherwise, my parents would be right next to me, asking more questions and trying to get me to talk. I read the clock on the wall. It’s 6:30 a.m. My parents must still be home getting ready for another day of Operation Hide Crap from Caden. Focusing on the chart that hangs beyond the foot of my bed, I can just make out a few of the details. Caden Woodley. Dislocated Elbow. Liver Lacerations. Severe Hypothermia. The words are followed by a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo that I don’t understand. And then I zone in on the date. It’s December first.
It’s been three days since the firemen found us and flew us into Jefferson Medical Center, and I still don’t know anything about Peyton and her condition. The only question they’ve answered is how we were rescued. I guess the worst fire season on record was a blessing after all. Apparently, there were firemen doing a routine check on the fire damage in the Russians and Marbles. They spotted Marissa running down the snowy highway, frantically waving for help. She led them to the scene of the accident. If it wasn’t for our new friend and the first aid skills of the firemen, I would’ve probably bled out, and the rest of us would’ve died from hypothermia.
Aside from the vague details of our rescue, Mom and Dad don’t have any other answers they are willing to give me. Kaitlyn, Jenna, and Mason won’t talk to me about anything related to the accident. Even my best friend Brody hasn’t opened up. Nobody who was there with me will tell me anything. Why won’t they tell me the truth about what’s going on with Peyton? How is she doing? How serious are her injuries? Is she going to make it? What are they keeping from me?
The only comfort I have right now is knowing that she came in alive. She was lying beside me when I woke up in the helicopter. When my fingers curled around her icy hand, I swear I felt a tiny squeeze. There’s no way that was just a reflex. We landed right afterward. They didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye. They rolled her off as soon as the door opened, and I haven’t been allowed to see her or hear from her since. No updates. No communication. Nothing. What are they hiding from me? I know one thing. I’d better start getting some answers soon, or I’m going to break out of here. I don’t care if they tie me down. I’ll gnaw through the damn straps with my teeth. I