I wake up in an empty room. I look around and see the glowing white clean sheets of the hospital which every woman secretly admires. It must be morning because the sunlight barely touches my bed with shy rays. Light slowly embraces the room and tiny tiny specks of dust slowly dance around like they’re celebrating morning.
My body is sore and my lungs hurt. Somebody must have found me immediately after I lost consciousness and brought me here. I don’t even care which hero or heroine saved me, if I haven’t died yet obviously I know I have bigger problems, and as I try to remember what happened exactly, all my memories from yesterday ambush my brain. My heart starts pounding in my chest, so dangerously, I just want it to stop. I don’t want to remember anything about yesterday.
I’m not scared about the situation nor am I trying to escape my thoughts. My only problem is that I don’t know what to do, what I’m going to say to the police officer. That I was in a car – which wasn’t mine nor his, because he picked me up from my house and told me that his car was at the shop – with my fiancé and we jumped off a cliff? “We are a crazy couple and we often do this kind of things, borrowed cars are more interesting and we may have exaggerated this time (or got caught). I was the kind of girl who did such things, I was the girl brave enough to do that to do that, but him?
He was good at math, at business, at pretending to be “charming”, at some dark things… I wonder what made him change his mind.
I have to admit that our stars don’t match anymore, but this thing that he did to me is worse than everything that he’s ever done, or maybe not? I close my eyes and cry myself to sleep, but sleep won’t come. This time my leg is caught in a big big puddle of shitty mud. Oh when did I start to use such coarse language?
I hear two voices approach the door. Two male voices are talking to each other but I don’t understand what their conversation is about. My door opens with a soft click and a bald man in his forties, wearing a robe and a stethoscope around his neck enters the room. Behind him stands a tall, younger man.
“Miss Blanc?” the Doctor is talking to me now. I try to move my body slightly up, but I fail and he tells me “Don’t move, you just woke up and you may feel a little dizzy”. “I won’t try again, thank you doctor…!” I say. “I’m Doctor Roy, Simon Roy” he says. The other man stands in front of the door glancing at me – I think – hidden behing black wayfarer sunglasses. We are in a hospital, he can take off those glasses, but I look at him as the doctor says “You’re not at risk, but we have to admit that you nearly died yesterday when…” I don’t listen to what he is saying “You should rest and…”, because I already know the medical stuff about drowning. Instead I look at the other man; he has good posture, his white slim-fit tie looks perfect on his body, light grey pants and pale-red summer suede shoes that match perfectly.