"Would you rather eat in the dining room?"
"No. I'll be fine here." She didn't want her mother to go to the trouble of moving everything, not when it was already neatly laid out.
They chatted quietly as they ate, discussing everything except the accident. Blythe was relieved that her mother was trying to keep things as normal as possible. When lunch was over, she had half a pain pill, hoping just to take the edge off her pain, rather than make herself comatose. It knocked her out anyway. Settled in the recliner again, she fell asleep once more.
A different car, more blood, same sense of panic—only this time she could smell the smoke and taste the blood. Taking a deep breath, she heard a bubbling sound and realized it came from her. Someone knocked on the window. He was dressed in rain gear and wore some sort of shield on his helmet.
"Are you all right?"
"No," she murmured. "No." She tried to shake her head, but she couldn't move. Something had her pinned to the seat. Something else lay heavily across her lap.
"Don't try to talk," the calm, masculine voice said. "We'll get you out of there, ma'am."
A flurry of activity happened outside. Her blurred vision couldn't pick out details. There was lots of noise, someone was screaming, wailing. It took a few minutes to realize it wasn't a person, but a piece of machinery. They had unloaded the jaws of life, and were trying to open up her car. Blythe's world went black for a bit. When she came to again, the roof was off her car, but no one had removed her from the seat. She was pinned there, unable to move anything but her eyes.
"Hello?"
Her voice didn't sound above a whisper. She felt like something was stuck in her throat. It was nearly impossible to swallow. Another attempt at speaking made it obvious she wasn't going to make herself heard. She tried to move her hands, but nothing happened.
Her friend came back, speaking reassuringly. She couldn't understand his words, but the tone made her feel better. Her ears rang and her head spun. She wanted to throw up, but there was something in her throat. Questions came to mind, but she couldn't voice them.
"It's going to be all right, Elizabeth," the voice reassured her.
"No, Blythe," she whispered, but he didn't hear her.
Blythe startled awake again. It was darker outside, this time because it was evening. She smelled roast chicken and her mother's famous twice baked potatoes. Trying to rise, she felt a sharp pain in her right side. Crying out, she paused, unable to move on her own. Footsteps sounded in the hall and her brother appeared in the doorway.
"Blythe? You okay?"
"I'm fine. Just pulled something when I tried to get up."
"Take it easy. Let me put the leg rest down and I'll help you up."
Jason accomplished the task quickly and efficiently. Instead of helping her stand, Jason lifted her, carrying her to the living room, where he set her on the couch. Their parents joined them, followed by Lori.
"What's wrong, Be-Be?" Lori asked.
"I guess I lay in the wrong position too long. I'll be okay. Just need another hot bath."
"You can do that right now. Jason, you and Daddy carry her upstairs. Lori, can you help her? The chicken is almost done. I'm still caramelizing the onions."
"Yeah, I can handle this. We both know I'm too dangerous to be allowed in the kitchen alone."
Charlotte Donovan laughed a little. "That's true enough, child. If you need me, holler."
"Will do. Come on, feeb," Lori said. "Let's get your sorry carcass in the tub. Lead on, McDuff," she said to Jason.
The men carried Blythe upstairs as if she were a doll. Jason set her on the closed toilet before backing out of the room. Lori helped Blythe undress as the hot water filled the tub. She added scented epsom salts to the water, holding Blythe while she lowered her aching body into the water.
"Too bad you don't have a jacuzzi," she commented. "That would probably feel good."
"It would probably beat me to a bloody pulp."
"Those are some nasty bruises, frister."
"You should feel them from the inside. They hurt worse than they look."
They talked while Blythe soaked in the hot water. A gentle tap on the door alerted them to her mother's presence.
"Dinner is almost ready," Charlotte said from outside. "I put some clean things out on the bed."
"Thanks, Mom," the young women chorused.
Blythe struggled to stand, clutching Lori's arm for support. Together, they got her toweled off and dressed in another pair of comfy pajamas. This was a pair Blythe didn't remember owning. She knew her mother had bought them for her.
"Hello Kitty," Lori said when she saw them. "I might have to shoot myself."
"Remember that guy in school who drew Hello Kitty in goth clothing or like a zombie?"
"Yeah. I wonder what he's doing these days."
"I hope he's making a ton of money drawing disturbing pictures for obscenely rich patrons. He had a lot of talent."
©2022 Dellani Oakes
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