Alexia
If I make it out alive, I’ll need some serious time with whoever put me here. They should have let me die.
She had no clue how long she’d been held down by whatever was keeping her motionless. Everything was hazy, aside from the unbearable pain washing through her body in non-stop waves. The medication was a blessing and a curse. The endorphins she’d read about were missing in action, and her throat was a dry wasteland where nothing went up or down. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t beg for relief from the continued torment.
In a moment of clarity, she remembered trying to yank the tube out of her mouth. That had not gone well. The next thing she recalled was having a needle that felt like the size of a drill bit inserted in her arm. Since then, she’d been in a kind of no-man’s-land that shifted when it was time for more medication to enter her system.
“Alexia.” A gentle hand stroked her wrist. “Lexi?”
She struggled to open her eyes but nothing happened.
“Can you hear me? Alexia, baby?”
The voice was familiar. If she could force her eyes open, she’d be able to connect with whoever was calling the name that clearly belonged to her. Her lids twitched, but nothing else moved. She tried again, but the only thing that shifted was her level of discomfort. Even her eyelashes hurt, and frustration made it worse. When she could not force her eyelids to do as she commanded, a tear leaked and rolled down the side of her face.
With a gentle swipe, the woman at her side brushed away the warm liquid. Another followed and the soothing touch was repeated, then confusion set in. Was it a nurse or someone else? Who was her family, anyway? She couldn’t remember.
The woman sniffed, then whispered, “You are not a quitter. Despite all of this, you will get better.”
After a soft rustle, a warm hand enfolded hers. “Alexia, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”
She tried. Oh, how she tried, but all she managed to do was wake up every pain cell that hadn’t been alert before this moment.
The door opened and closed, then a man greeted the person at her side.
“Good to see you.” As the woman spoke, she touched Alexia’s skin in a gentle sweep. “Have you decided when we can fly her out?”
“It will be a few more days yet. She’s still having seizures. Once we have those under control, she’ll be fit to travel.”
Alexia sensed the disappointment in the woman’s sigh and wished she could reassure her. Since she’d been in this bed, she discovered that every person who came to visit had a different aura. The two older females were different, but the same. They didn’t speak except to whisper prayers. Even then, they radiated gloom rather than hope. One said the rosary. The other begged God to either restore Alexia’s health or take her home.
The person with her now carried a much stronger vibe—positive, yet tender. Someone who believed in action. Now and then, Alexia caught a familiar scent. A perfume she knew. This woman had to be her mother.
If only she could remember.
The air around Alexia shifted, and the lady kissed her forehead. “I love you, baby. I’ll be back in an hour.”
She stepped away but didn’t close the door, so her conversation floated to Alexia.
“Thanks for calling me, but you’re only telling me what I already know.”
After another few seconds, she added, “I’m beginning to think the police couldn’t find water in a well, even with a bucket. I know the people who did this are now out of your jurisdiction, but surely you collaborate with police departments in places as close as Miami?”
In a more forceful tone, she said, “If you won’t do what’s necessary, then it means that I will. Don’t you understand? My child has been violated in the worst way. Whatever information I need to ensure she gets justice, you can be sure I’ll find it, no matter what I have to do. I have to go. There’s an important call coming in.”
When the woman spoke again, her voice sounded as if she was about to cry. “Yes, I’m still in Jamaica. We won’t be back until the seizures stop.”
Alexia thought she’d left, but footsteps approaching the bed pulled her back from the edge of sleep. “Thanks, Syl. I appreciate it. Tell Tavia and Janet to keep praying, too.”
The door clicked shut minutes later, and Alexia was left alone.
Scenes from some violent incident spooled through her mind, but the wicked combination of pain and sedative would not allow her to concentrate. Weird how she couldn’t remember her name but kept snatches of what had happened to put her in this place. She could help the woman she was convinced was her mother with the important details. The question was how, since Alexia couldn’t stay awake, and nobody knew when she was close to alert.
A looming figure silhouetted by the moon invaded her mind. What he took from her was more precious than anything else she lost that night. But she was here, with a warrior fighting on her behalf.
“He who fights and runs away may live to fight another day;
But he who is battle slain can never rise to fight again.”
If there was ever a time when she needed to hear those words, now was that time. Daddy.
She couldn’t picture his face, but knew with certainty that he’d quoted those words when she’d been beaten up in kindergarten and hadn’t defended herself. She’d been too young to understand what the phrase meant, but grew past that experience, using brainpower and snark to defend herself as she grew smarter. Those things hadn’t helped her at that party. Not when her friends and other people she knew had gone past the point of good sense.
Recovery would put her on the level with those who had taken away her life. Since she hadn’t died that night, she sure as hell wanted to live to face them down.