Lizzie
Sitting alone in the hospital room was making her jittery. Lizzie fidgeted in the bed and held her hands out in front of her. She could see the milky colour of her skin now, and the blue of the veins running under it. Lizzie reached for the remote control, attached to the bed by a plastic cord. She pressed the green button and the unmistakable sound of an advert jingle filled the room. Lizzie stared into the corner where the sound was coming from. She could see the square screen but nothing else.
‘Hey,’ Lizzie said, muting the sound as Ben stepped into the room.
‘How’s your sight?’ he asked, tucking his camera under his arm.
‘Much better. I can see my hands and about a metre in front of me. I can see you, almost, but beyond that, it’s still hazy, like I’m looking through a window that’s gone steamy.’
‘I’m glad it’s coming back,’ he replied.
‘Thank you for helping me on the beach,’ Lizzie said, gnawing at her lip and wishing there was another word that conveyed her gratitude. ‘I’m not sure what I would have done without you.’
He nodded. ‘Someone would’ve rescued you.’
‘It wasn’t just the rescue.’ She shook her head. ‘If you hadn’t helped me off the beach I’d have been swamped by people trying to help. I don’t know why my sight went like that. It was so scary.’
‘You know what I don’t know?’ he said, the irritation clear in his voice as he stepped forward. ‘I don’t know what this is all about.’ Ben opened the LED screen on his camera and moved around the bed so that Lizzie could see it.
He pressed several buttons, then, after a short pause, she saw herself on the bed and Jaddi standing next to her. A new wave of fear propelled its way through her thoughts. She knew why Ben had filmed it, and why he was showing it to her. Their faces etched with fear, Jaddi’s wide-eyed furtive glances back to the door, even without the sound, it looked suspicious.
‘I don’t know what you and Jaddi were talking about,’ Ben said, ‘but I feel like I’m getting to know you pretty well now, Lizzie, so I feel pretty confident that the look on your face when the doctor told you she’d sent your scans to a specialist, was fear. And I’m really starting to get the sense that you’re hiding something. Why were you so hell-bent on not having an MRI in Bangkok? What are you scared of?’
Tears filled her eyes but she didn’t respond. How could she?
His face softened. ‘I know you’re sick. Not even the best Hollywood actress could fake a seizure, or blindness. So what is it? You can tell me.’
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she whispered, staring at the images on the camera screen.
‘Try me,’ he said. ‘I can help you.’
‘You want to know what I’m scared of? Fine, I’ll tell you,’ she said, her voice rising as an anger began to circle her body. ‘I’m scared of dying, OK? There. Happy now. If it seems like I’m hiding something, then it’s because I am. I’m trying to hide the fear, from myself and from Jaddi and Samantha, from everyone.’ She pointed at the camera.
Ben stared at her for a moment longer, assessing her, trying to decide if she was lying. She bit her lip and tried to look defiant. A second later she tasted the metallic tang of blood followed by a sharp sting. Whether he liked it or not, what she’d told him was the truth.
‘I’m not buying it,’ Ben said, snapping the camera screen shut and placing his camera into his bag. ‘There’s something else going on here. I knew something wasn’t right within ten minutes of meeting you three, and whether you realise it or not, the cracks are widening. The truth always comes out, Lizzie. So do yourself a favour and tell me what’s going on so I can help you.’
Lizzie turned her face to Ben. His forehead was creased with concern, or frustration, or both, Lizzie thought, but his eyes were clear and bore into her with an intensity that made her gasp. The pull returned. The tugging sensation of being drawn forward. But it was more this time. She felt her mouth open, her breath draw in, words forming in her head, lining up, one after the other, ready to flow out into the world, and come what may.
Then a light flashed on the television screen above his head. Lizzie’s eyes flicked upwards and the words she’d been ready to speak melted away. ‘Is that Harrison on TV?’ Lizzie leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. It was Harrison. A Gold Coast Hospital sign was visible in the background as he nodded along to a reporter. She could see it all. She could see.
‘Yep,’ Ben said, accentuating the final letter as he shook his head and packed his camera into its case.
Lizzie frowned. How did a news reporter know she was here? Could a nurse have tipped them off? She wasn’t so famous that a hospital worker would call in her whereabouts, was she? And why was Harrison talking to them? She wished he’d asked her first, or at least come and seen her.
‘He’s been here the whole time,’ Ben said. ‘He’s been so concerned about you that he hasn’t moved from that spot outside the hospital where some reporters, and by the looks of it, a local news crew, have gathered. Love is sweet, ain’t it?’
Ben glanced at the TV one more time before striding from the room.
Lizzie stared after him, wishing she could call him back and explain. But what could she say? Lizzie sighed and inspected her hands again. She just wanted to get out of here.