I Can Hear You

You were involved in a terrible car accident and have been in a coma for the past three months. What your family and the doctors don’t know is that you can hear everything that they say. Write the scene.

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.


Download from our shop right now!

You might also like:

216 thoughts on “I Can Hear You

  1. lpjjohnson

    In popular fiction, we are led to believe that entering our minds will be infinitely liberating, that there are no ends to the possibilities if we are willing to reach out and touch them with our fingertips. We supposedly enter a fantastical world of our own creation, a place entirely unique to ourselves. A utopia fashioned by the deft hands of Thomas More himself.
    The truth is nothing of the sort. Take it from someone who knows.
    I’ve been confined for over three months now, after having been involved in a car accident that left me comatose. I relive it every day. The image is crisp, preserved in the cage of my own creation.
    My brother and I had struck a deal the evening before it happened; if I were willing to perform his chores for the next couple of weeks, he would pick me up from a concert that our parents had explicitly banned me from attending. So, the very next day, I went to the concert and Connor drove me home as promised.
    Except we never arrived.
    Whilst traversing an intersection, another car ran a red light. The bonnet ripped into the side of our Rover as easily as a knife does through butter. Everything blurred into one as my head rebounded off of the airbag. The blood on Connor’s face, the starry sheen of the broken glass smattered across the dashboard, the twisted grey of the car’s metal structure. It all became one.
    And I couldn’t make good on my promise.
    Mum and Dad visit most days. The strain in their voices is so harrowing that for the first few days – perhaps even longer as time seems to flow strangely here – I would scream and claw on the inside of my mind, wondering if it would ever manifest itself outside again. They tell me mundane things, like what silly things our dog did or how much my friends miss me.
    It didn’t take me long to realise what subject they were skirting.
    The nurse often natters away to me as well. He’s been going through a rough divorce recently and Sam says venting to me is a great relief. At first, I was glad (if not a little dejected that I couldn’t comfort him in reality) but after a while I began to hear the sobs.
    The structure of each day remains the same. In the mornings, Sam comes in to check on me and washes me if I start to smell. In the afternoons, Mum or Dad (or, if I’m lucky, both) come to see me and have a chat. In between, I relive the trauma of the crash. And every day, I wait.
    I wait for Connor to visit me, hoping against hope that what my parents are skirting isn’t about what happened to him three months ago. Even in the recesses of my mind, a part of me knows that my brother will never come home again.

    Hi, I’m an amateur writer and really want to find ways to improve my work so any constructive criticism you could give me would be greatly appreciated 🙂

  2. LucidNightmare

    I am alive. Standing in the middle of a massive car crash. I look around at the frozen scene, fires flickering madly while car lights flash, briefly illuminating the line of crushed hoods and broken bodies.
    This shouldn’t have happened. Not if Kenny had been here. Kenny. Where was he? Was he lying around in the mass of metal, fire, and death? No. He is at home, safe and mooching cookies from atop the fridge.
    I pick my way around the debris, unsure of how I got here. I find my car and look inside. A familiar face. Brown hair, sharp nose. Glasses, a toque, and a soft white sweater, now covered in ash and blood. I stare it for a second and flashes of red lights and screeches fill my head in an instant. I crouch down immediately at the excruciating pain that throbs inside my head, unaware of the changing scene.
    As the throbbing fades away, I stand up again, now in a white hospital room. A soft steady hum of a machine replaces the screeching that lingers in my ears. I am standing beside the person again, pale and fragile, lying in a white hospital bed. Silver wires and tubes travel from the humming machine and wrap around it like small silvery snakes.
    “LET ME IN!” Comes a screams voice from outside a door. I look towards it, hesitating a bit before looking through the small circular window of the room. Alessandra. What is she doing here?
    “I’m sorry ma’am, the patient isn’t receiving any visitors at the moment.” I hear a tired voice saying.
    “I DON’T CARE!” Alessandra screams again, struggling wildly against the two nurses holding her back.
    “Ma’am, please lower your voice, there are other patients here..” Says the tired voice again.
    “I’LL STOP SCREAMING WHEN YOU LET ME IN!” At the last sentence, the pain returns and pulls me back into a crouch. Head throbbing, I see images again, this time of blood and and a pair of terrified eyes in a mirror being reflected back at me.
    Sucking in ragged lungfuls of breath, I calm myself down and look up again to see the person on the bed again, now surrounded by a small crowd of people.
    “Are you sure?” a man in a white coat was saying. “It’s only been three months… the patient could recover..”
    “We’re sure.” says a low voice from beside the bed “It’s the only way..”. I move toward the bed, to see an old woman. She’s familiar… I think slowly moving closer. Her sharp hazel eyes are filled with tears that leak slowly onto wrinkles that seem etched into her face. Traces of light brown hair hide inside the nest of silvery grey hair that hides a sweet but sad smile. Mom.
    A jolt of pain surges through my head as I see my mother stare me in the eyes. I feel a pull and fall backwards, as if I had been sucked into a blackhole. The force of it throws me forward, and forces my lungs to take deep sputtering breaths, pulling cords and wires with me as I cough violently. Slowly, my ragged breathing and cough slows down to a calm inhale and exhale. I look down to my hands, pale and fragile, and move them slowly. I lift them up to my neck, where I feel soft hair and skin, moist with sweat. I take a long shuddering breath, filling my lungs with the cool evening air that flows in through the window by my bed and look up. I am alive.
    Hi there, I’m a kind of an amateur, so it’d be great if you could leave me some criticism or something to and or improve on. Thanks! 🙂

  3. msmrmyr

    The bumper he was following suddenly stopped and he slammed on the brakes. In the mirror, he watched as a red streak narrowed the distance. He turned to Candice and said, “I’m sorry,” just as it hit. She lunged forward in a violent snap. He saw bits of metal fly past his head, which landed on the dash with a crack.

    The image froze and he watched the wreck from above. He saw all of the angles. He saw his BMW stop and the Mustang behind coming faster. He marveled at how the BMW’s trunk rolled up. He watched it again from the front. He saw the red hood coming at him. He looked down at Candice. He wondered if she was okay.

    He rolled the images back and repeated the accident. He was about to start the accident again when he heard the voice.

    “The Mustang failed to stop?” the voice asked.

    Yes, he thought. It just came up behind them fast. He watched it again hit the back of his car. The trunk rolled up again and he froze the scene. He could see Candice’s head lurching forward. He reversed the accident until Candice was sitting upright and smiling. He looked at her face. She was calm.

    “I didn’t see it. I just felt a large bump.” Candice said of the accident.

    Yes, it did happen too fast.

    He tried to add his thoughts. His lips failed to create a sound. All he heard was an escape of air.

    Instead he listened. She remembered from the front seat.

    “He reached over to hold me back.”

    As the car slammed from behind, he reached over and tried to hold her in her seat. The effort failed to stop her from hitting the dashboard.

    “He said, “I’m sorry” and then it hit.”

    He was truly sorry. If he had swerved out of his lane? Got out of the way? It happened too fast.

    Frustration passed his lips.

    He rewound the accident. There was no escape.

    He looked over at Candice. She looked away out the window. He followed her gaze to a young girl smiling from the back seat of a minivan. She held a balloon and a small bear. Candice smiled back. His breathing rushed as the girl flinched. Flying above the accident, the back of the BMW crumpled.

    “A little girl would cement us,” said Candice.

    He stared over at the girl and her balloon. Little curls framed her face and her smile seemed to hide a secret. He wondered what it could be about.

    “A little girl with golden curls and a infectious laugh,” she said. “With his same sense of humor.”

    Candice saw only the steps in front of her. She missed the big picture. He had a habit of pointing out the obvious and waiting for her to catch up. He saw the future. She was good at the day-to-day.

    “You said we’re not ready for children,” he thought. Neither had enough money and their jobs took so much effort. At the end of the day, he took her word for it.

    He went back to the moment before the crash. He looked over at the little girl again. She smiled and held out her balloon. He grabbed the string and he was transported to a park. The child ran across the grass and into Candice’s arms. He felt joy.

    Now the child was wailing with a skinned knee. He was scared.

    He moved the hair out of her eyes. She seemed to be reading his soul. In that moment she was very wise. What is your name?

    He carefully wiped away a tear in her eye. He tried to avoid smearing her makeup. He adjusted her veil and smoothed down his coat. He took her arm and they started down the aisle.

    A little girl would change him.

    He was unable to relax. He shuddered and tried to breathe in. He only got a small bit of air.

    He looked down at the accident again. Oil and transmission fluid pooled under the BMW and flowed toward the shoulder. The Mustang was wedged into its back seat. Strange? The hood is missing. Candice fell down onto the pavement and two firemen helped her up.

    He could feel heat off the dash. It warmed his cheek and soothed his sore eye. He focused on the heat. He could see a warm orange light. He focused on the whitest part and looked deeper into it. The warmth helped him relax. He sighed and let out a small breath.

    Candice sat in the back of the ambulance. She felt the gauze covering her bleeding forehead. She looked over at the wreck. The red hood of the Mustang crumpled into the back of the BMW. She reached out her hand and grabbed at the air. She stretched toward Tom and failed to reach him.

    He floated up until the accident was just a speck. He looked out over the valley. He passed the clouds and the air became thinner. He struggled to take a breath. He sucked in and nothing seemed to pass his lips. He saw the girl and Candice standing in the light. He focused on Candice’s eyes. He moved closer to her. The light entered her eye and he followed it into the dark.

  4. Arison

    Mommy, you should have been looking at the road. I didn’t really need that drink, you had been on the phone all day and I wanted you to pay attention to me. Who knew you would hit a tree? Not me! Sorry for lying Mommy. Lucky for us the tree we hit was nice; it just put us to sleep, right? That’s what the doctors told Daddy.
    Daddy holds my hand sometimes, telling me he misses us, and then my hand gets all wet. I think he’s just sweaty. You did always say Daddy had sweaty hands, right? I wish he could know we were just sleeping, I think that would make Daddy’s hands less sweaty. But every time I tell him he just ignores me.
    Mommy, I think Daddy’s mad at me. He won’t visit me anymore. On his last visit he got into a fight with the doctor, there were a lot of bangs. Just like when we hit the tree, right? Maybe Daddy and the doctor hit a tree too. I miss him Mommy, I miss you too, I think my nap should be over now.
    Mommy, the doctors are saying weird things with words I don’t understand. What does pulling the plug mean Mommy? I don’t see any plug; all I see is black Mommy.
    Mommy! Daddy came back today! He didn’t hold my hand but it still got really wet. After that a man with deep voice called him away. All he said was Goodbye.
    Mommy is heaven nice? They’re pulling the plug today. The doctor said once they pulled the plug I could rest in peace, that means I got to heaven right?
    I’ll see you soon Mommy!

  5. MsNObody

    “Hey, Alex, how you been?” His voice wobbled under the strain of grief. Last time I saw him he looked as lifeless as I did. I’m glad he seems to be doing better.

    “I know we haven’t seen each other in so long-” He swallowed back tears and fought the wave of tremors crawling up his spine, “but I figured it was time to give you an update.”

    I wish I could still roll my eyes at how over I am with bleary-eyed, emotional visits. I wish they could hear me so I could tell them to stop wasting their time visiting a living corpse. I wish they could see me trying to push them out of this room drowning in sadness and shadowed by death. I wish I was in my body again, but I don’t know how to get back to the living. Its almost been a year so my parents aren’t quite ready to pull the plug just yet. I wouldn’t hate them if they did. Anything is better than this intangible, nothingness of in between I’ve been stuck in for the last ten months.

    I’m here, but I’m not. I’m alive, but not really. I’m practically dead, but not quite. I’m done being an oxymoron. If there’s anything I want more than waking up, It’s to die. Lately that’s become the better option.

    Mom and Dad hardly visit anymore and they were the one of the only few I really looked forward to seeing. Mom used to hold my hand and sing to me in hopes of bringing me back. I always imagined I could feel her hand in mine, squeezing tendering, transferring warmth back to me, somehow coaxing me back to the land of the living. I guess, eventually, it got too hard to see my living corpse, wondering if I would ever really wake up or live the rest of my life in snow white’s sleeping death.

    Dad didn’t do anything at first. He would sit in a chair by the window and stare at the people walking by. Sometimes he’d bring a book or leave work to take his lunch break with me, but he was always facing the window, never really acknowledging that I was even there. He didn’t let it hit him until three weeks into the coma. When he finally dared to lay eyes on his lifeless daughter, he couldn’t stop crying. His visits were less frequent than mom’s but always more intense. As more time went on I think he realized there was no point in him visiting. It was killing him to see me and dwelling on me was keeping me alive when I clearly might as well have been gone.

    It doesn’t bother me that they’ve ignored me. It’s easier this way. I feel myself fading the more they stay away. My reasons to stay here are slowly becoming less binding. I’ll be going soon; but for the last few months I found there’s is still one loose end keeping me latched.


    “I’m going to college in California, so that’s why it’s…taken me a while. To come see you.”

    He fidgeted in his seat, then stood up to go to the window and catch his breath. He was trying to contain the tears that so desperately wanted to escape but his efforts did nothing to deter the torment welling up. Soon enough he couldn’t breath from all the toxic guilt and he opened the window.

    Nick opening the window felt like the end. Like my moment was finally here.

    “I’m sorry,” He whispered. “It should’ve been me and I-I’m so sorry.”

    I don’t blame him for the way things happened. He couldn’t have stopped the car from hitting me. He couldn’t have done anything in a split second. Besides, It could’ve happened to anyone. It just so happens anyone turned out to be me.

    “Please, give me a sign, I need you to know how sorry I am. You can’t go without knowing that.”

    He broke into a million pieces beside me. And, oddly enough, I finally felt free.

  6. BusyBee

    “She won’t wake up!” I hear my mother sob.
    Where am I? I look around the hospital room. Why am I here? I look down at the bed and saw a figure lying motionlessly. The figure seemed strangely familiar. I leaned in closer and gasped. The figure is me! What am I doing lying in a hospital bed? And, more importantly, why could I see myself in the hospital bed?
    “Honey, she will wake up. The doctors say she has a good chance.” My mom and dad were both looking at me on the bed.
    “But not everyone wakes up, Brad!” My mother was crying hysterically, “She was hit by a semi-truck, and every movie has the people in an accident die!”
    “Bailey, she is going to be okay. I promise.”
    While they were talking the nurse came in and told them they needed to leave. This made my mom cry even louder. She was acting like a toddler that didn’t get was he wanted.
    “Okay, Baby Girl,” The nurse started, “How are we doing today?”
    “What happened to me?” I demanded.
    “That car hit you hard, Baby.” The nurse kept talking, “It’s been three months, Honey, and the only way your waking up is if you don’t have the will too.”
    “What is wrong with me?” Again, I forgot I wasn’t heard.
    The nurse did some more tests the told my parents that they could come back but they never did. I took some time to explore, but I soon became bored and went back to my own room.
    “Okay,” I told myself, “You need to wake up. Not for you, but for mom and dad. They love you, and you need to wake up for them. Please wake up! Please!” I started shaking my lifeless body. I had never been so frustrated in my life. I started screaming and I fell to the floor sobbing. I briefly wondered if I look as my mom did.
    Suddenly the room started looking fuzzy. I couldn’t quite see where I was. My view went from crying on the floor to lying on the bed. The nurse seemed to realize what was happening before I did. My mother and father rushed in and went over to my bed.
    “Honey?” my mom asked.
    “Yes, Mommy?” I answered. She seemed so relieved. My dad let out a breath that he had been holding and the nurse started smiling.
    “We were so worried you wouldn’t wake up!” My dad exclaimed.
    “So was I…so was I.”

    1. angelprojekt

      I like how composed the nurse is in your scene, like she’s used to this.
      Your piece is in need of some editing; check for verb tense especially.
      Your premise reminds me of *If I Stay* by Gayle Forman. Keep working!

  7. michaeljester

    The View comes on at 11am. I know that before the first commercial break the nurse will be in. I’m not sure what her tasks are when she comes. I hear plastic ripping sometimes, sometimes nothing. I think it must be something about the IV bags. Are there IV bags? When she is here with me I can feel a tugging at my arm, gently on the skin. Maybe she’s changing the IV bags that are surely sustaining me. I just assume that’s it. When she’s here she hums to herself. I think it might be Gershwin? ‘S Wonderful? It’s usually upbeat – I like that about her, it makes me think she’s a positive person. Assholes like Gershwin too I guess. She smells like geranium and when she walks past me she pulls a cool breeze behind her that rolls over my face as she goes by. I’m always so hot for some reason so I live for those wafts. They are frequently the highlight of my day. She’s just the nurse right now. They switch around a lot, maybe weekly? I still haven’t figured out how to mark time in here. Some of the ladies have been quiet. Some of them are men. Some of them talk on their cellphones I think because I can hear them going on and on but no one is responding. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe they’re crazy. Just so long as they keep changing the IV bags. Are there IV bags?
    All I can see is nothing. I don’t remember when exactly, I last saw. Anything. It fucking sucks. My eyes are closed but feel so wet all of the time, I wish someone would wipe them more. And my lips. Oh man, my lips. If my body was like you have one word to use so make it count I would say, “Chapstick”. Sharon does apply balm to them sometimes. I love her for it. If she only knew how important it was. I dream about the chapstick. When I was eighteen my parents let me see a dermatologist about my skin. I always had bad acne growing up and he prescribed me a medication that cleared up my skin by attacking all of the mountains and molehills that covered my face. It did so by pulling every bit of moisture from my skin, scalp, and lips. I was addicted to Blistex for a year, to the point where I would break out into the sweats if I didn’t feel the bulge of a tube in my pants pocket. So when Sharon delivers that sweet, sweet drug to my scabby, taught lips I feel I have been touched by an angel. There really is a touching irony to the action. When our parents took on the expense of the acne medication for me Sharon had felt slighted, she wanted a car for her sixteenth birthday and they said that they couldn’t afford it now but “maybe next year”. She was so angry with me and used to take my lip balms out of my backpack so I wouldn’t have them at school as means of silent protest. In the end I got my clear skin and she got her car – two years later.

  8. jimmyruppert

    They think I don’t know. They think I cannot hear them but they are all wrong. I’ve heard every weep, every prayer, and every song sang to me since the accident. I try to speak, try to reach out to feel the soft skin of my wife’s hand, but I cannot. I always wondered what it would be like to be in a coma and here I am.
    The accident happened two weeks ago. It was my normal routine, I woke up and got ready for work, I kissed my daughter goodbye and got into that fucking minivan I hate. I was thinking about all the work I had to catch up on, those marketing reports and spreadsheets that gave me heart palpitations to even think about. In my daze, I didn’t notice that a truck was pulling on to the interstate, right in front of my face. I finally noticed when the truck was only inches away, and I jerked the wheel as hard to the left as I could to avoid the truck. Bang! I was hit on the side; I looked to the left and saw the pavement coming closer. Everything after then was a blur. The only thing I can remember is hearing glass shatter and metal bending.
    Darkness enclosed, but not normal darkness, the darkest dark I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t move, speak, or think, nothing happened. My heart was still beating, my blood still flowing, but my soul was still, my mind stagnant. If I didn’t start to hear the doctors talking a couple days later I would have thought that I was dead.
    “His vitals aren’t looking good.” A female voice said.
    “He has no signs of consciousness either.” Another female voice stated, she was standing at the other side of the room.
    “I’M AWAKE, I CAN HEAR EVERYTHING YOU’RE SAYING!!” I screamed in my mind, but my voice was silent, my body still stiff. I heard the door close as the doctor and nurse left the room. I have thought a lot of things in life were frustrating. Things like traffic, my daughter’s tantrums at the supermarket, my goddamned boss when he was on my ass about a project, but none of those things compare to this. My fear was that I would never be conscious and able to tell the nurses I could hear them. What if I could never see my daughter’s smile? What happens if they turn off these machines because they think there isn’t any hope for me? I can not let that happen but there is nothing I can do.
    I hear the door open again. I try to lift my arm and yell but I am stiff as a board. I can hear more than one person enter the room. One of them is crying. I can recognize those gentle sniffles; they are my wife’s. I heard them for the first time when we got into our first fight, they made me feel angrier. I heard them once again when our daughter was born, and they made me feel proud. I can hear them now, and I feel more helpless. I feel empty.
    “He has almost no brain activity.” A woman’s voice said softly. My wife wept harder. The harder she wept, the louder my mind became, the harder I tried to move, scream, or do something.
    “There is no hope, it’s been almost a week.” The same female voice said. My wife wept harder.
    “Can I have a moment alone with him?” My wife wept.
    “Of course, take as much time as you need.” A female voice said. The door closed and I could feel my wife sit at the side of the bed. I tried to reach out and hug her, I wanted to comfort her so badly and I was fighting so hard, but all my attempts failed.
    “Hi sweetheart, Carly misses her daddy.” She wept. I could feel sorrow swirling inside of me, like a hurricane but with no eye because nothing was calm in this storm. I miss Carly too and I wish I could tell my wife, I wish I could see her.
    “The doctors say there isn’t any hope anymore, they want me to sign papers to turn off the machines. I feel like I am being selfish because I don’t want them to turn them off. I don’t want to lose you.” She wept even harder, “Carly needs you, I need you, and for Christ’s sakes I can’t live without you!” She punched the side of the bed. “Why did this have to happen, why didn’t this happen to someone else, I wish I could understand.” She paused for a while. During this pause I thought of our wedding. I thought about how beautiful she looked and how much I didn’t deserve her. I gave her my whole world and I wish I could give her my whole universe. I tried harder and harder to make a noise or move. Nothing worked. My insides were on fire with frustration and anger and the only force powerful enough to put them out was her.
    “I want you to be alive for me and Carly but it isn’t fair for me to keep you alive by these fucking machines.” She wept loudly. “I love you!” She cried. I couldn’t feel it but I heard her lips smack close to my ear. I wish I could have kissed her back and held her. I tried hard but nothing. The door closed. I was alone again for a long period of time. Fear flooded my body at the thought of death. I was alive, I was conscience, but I couldn’t move. I wish I could sit up and turn off these machines myself, just to prove myself. But I couldn’t.
    The door opened. I heard that beautiful familiar weep again and other shuffles of people’s feet. My heart pounded even harder than when I thought about spreadsheets and marketing reports. I wasn’t ready for death; I wasn’t ready to leave me wife and daughter alone in this world.
    “Please sign right here.” A female voice said. I heard weeping and a pen scribbling. I fought harder and harder to move, but still nothing. I could hear footsteps coming closer and closer. I heard a switch turn off and I heard some unfamiliar beeps and cords. I fought hard to scream, to even wiggle my toes or move my eyes. Nothing.
    My wife was still weeping harder and I felt something different. A tingling was climbing up my legs and migrating to my torso. Was this movement, were my nerves starting to work again? I tried to move but nothing. The tingling continued to move towards my head and arms. I was tingling all over, I tried harder and harder to move but nothing. A white light filled my eyes, it was so bright it hurt my head. The light was brighter and brighter. I couldn’t feel the tingling anymore, and the light started to grow dimmer and dimmer. My thoughts grew more and more quiet and ceased to exist. The darkness finally once again, enclosed.

  9. sgt0201

    “Help!” I screamed.

    Someone has too… I don’t know how I got in to this mess. I don’t remember anything that occurred the past two hours. I remember leaving my best friends house at around seven this evening. According to the clock on the dash, it was nine-twenty. I was covered in blood and sweat. It had to be my own. There was no one else in the car with me. I tried to move, but I couldn’t due to a tree that had fallen in to the windshield. I felt paralyzed. All I could do was scream for help. I cursed myself as I realized I had taken the fastest route home, but also the most secluded, dark area that there was. I cried out as I saw headlights of a car that passed by. I screamed as loud as I could but once again, I was all alone.

    Tears fell as I realized just how lonely I was. It’s not the kind of lonely where you have no friends, or you’re lonesome because you’re home all alone with no pets or anything like that. It’s the kind of alone that is haunting. It’s dark, foggy, and quite frightening. I need help. I’m trapped in my car with who knows how much longer to survive. It’s the kind of lonesome where all you crave is at least the presence of another human, and without that you die.

    “Help!” I screamed, a little louder.

    It seemed hopeless. Surely no one else would be traveling this road again tonight. As it was, no one traveled this road except maybe a few tourists, or lost elders. Occasionally you would come across a car or two, but rarely any more than that. You could tell by the tall grass on the sides of the road that the county didn’t maintain it. It was grown over. Dead trees had fallen, weeds and grass had grown through cracks in the road. It was unsafe, no doubt. But it was also the quickest way to get from point A to point B.

    One thing I have learned this time, though, is if I do survive which seemed very unlikely at this point, I would never travel this road again.

    I began to feel weird. I felt lightheaded, sick to my stomach, and I had the worst headache. It felt almost as if I was going to pass out at any minute. I had passed out in the past before, so I knew what it felt like it. Sadly, it felt rather similar to the exact feelings that I were feeling at this moment.

    I tried to speak again, but nothing came out. I was too weak. I blinked and blinked, but my eye sight finally blurred until I saw nothing but blackness. I knew what had happened. The thing I had been dreading since the very moment I had suspicion of it, had finally happened. There was nothing I could do now…

    “Maddie, please! Wake up!” I heard soft cries come from who sounded like my best friend… How did he get here? Wait, where am I?

    I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move my arms, legs, fingers, or anything. It was like I was frozen. All I could do was hear. There were the faint sounds of shoes hitting the hard flooring. The soft sounds of someone breathing beside me, mixed in with soft cries. I felt cold wetness hit my hand and arm every so often, as well as hearing the steady sound of the machines that I was hooked up to.

    “Maddison, I know you probably can’t hear me right now, nor do you know that I’m here. But please, be okay. That’s all I ask. I can’t loose you. You’re the only thing I have. You are the only one who hasn’t left me. Yeah, I have other friends. But they don’t even matter at this point. You’re all I need and I can’t bear to lose you. You’re my best friend. All though, I consider you way more than that. You’re my girl. Whether you feel the same towards me that I do towards you, I’ll always be right there beside you supporting you, protecting you, and supplying a shoulder for you to cry on. I love you, Mads. Please, please be okay.” My best friend, Caleb, said.

    I wish I could respond… Even if it was just a few simple words, I wish there was some way that I could respond. Sadly, I couldn’t though. I couldn’t even move a finger to give him a sign that I could hear him.

    Soon enough, I heard doctors walk in to the room.

    “Sir, we have gotten Maddison’s results back. She’s heading for the worst.While in the accident, a tree came through the window and damaged her brain. We don’t know how much damage there is, but the chances that she will ever lead a normal life again is very low to none. She can’t currently talk, walk, hear, or anything. She’s lifeless. She’s in a coma, and there’s very little chance that she will come out of it. There’s noting we can do at this point, and the results are not able to be reversed nor can they be fixed. We are very sorry, but at this point all we can do is make her as possible as can be and give her a few days.” The doctor said.

    I can’t believe this. If only I hadn’t gone down that stupid road, I would be fine right now. I wouldn’t be in the hospital. Caleb wouldn’t be here either, stressed out and worrying about me. I would also be able to tell him the truth about how I feel, now that I know his feelings.

    “There isn’t anything you can do?” Caleb asked between sobs.

    “We’re sorry, but there’s nothing. If there is anything we can get you, please let us know.” the doctors said, before walking off.

    “Madds, please” Caleb pleaded.

    I wish there was something I could do…

    ~The next day~

    It’s been what seems like a day or two since my accident. I still can’t talk, but my hearing and thoughts have improved a ton. At first, my thoughts were jumbled and confusing, but now they’re clear. Everything has came back to me. Maybe the doctors were wrong? I mean, they did say that I couldn’t hear, but I can hear just fine now. I don’t know if it’s the great support system that I have or what, but something is changing. I feel like I’m getting better. I don’t feel as weak. My thoughts aren’t jumbled, and my hearing as just as clear as what it was before the accident. And my eye sight is coming back. It’s a bit blurry but I can still make out some things.

    When I say I have had an amazing support system, I mean it. Caleb hasn’t left my side since I first discovered he was here except to go to the bathroom when he needs to do so and he always squeezes my hand and says something before he goes.

    I’ve tried to talk, but nothing comes out.

    I haven’t tried in a while, though. Maybe I could? I tried to talk again… Very little sound came out. But hey, it’s a start, right?

    “Maddison? Did you say something?” Caleb said, grabbing my hand, urging me to say something else.

    “C-c-caleb?” I stuttered.

    “I’m here. I’m here. It’s me.” Caleb said

    “I know” I said, my eyes fluttering, closing and then opening again.

    With each time I closed and open my eyes, my eye sight became clearer.

    “Can you see?” Caleb asked

    “Yeah” I mumbled, softly.

    My speaking wasn’t clear… it was mumbled and quiet, but at least it was something. I’m sure it would get better, though.

    “So the only thing that you can’t do is move?” He asked

    “Yeah” I replied.

    “Okay. I’m going to go get the doctors. I’ll be right back,” he said

    “Maddison? I’m Doctor Parks. We are taking good care of you. It seems that you are getting better. From your results, it seems we were wrong. You will resume normal activities, but it will most likely take time. It won’t be tomorrow, or even the next day, but you will be okay. You are okay, and you are healthy. As of right now, all you are lacking is lack of movement. Just like everything else, that will come back. It wasn’t permanent like we had thought. Things will be okay.” Doctor Parks said.

    “Okay, thank you” I replied, softly.

    “Thank you so much. That’s great news,” Caleb said, thanking the doctor.

    I was so relieved right now, and I know Caleb was too.

    It’s the little things like this that make a huge difference. I’ve learned several things due to this. One, you learn who your real friends are. Thanks to this accident, I know Caleb will always be there for me, just like he said. Second, I’ve learned not to take life for granted. Yeah, I have been through several things that were hurtful, damaging, and that will leave a permanent scar, but this has really woken me up and I should be more thankful for the things that I do have. After all, there are people out there who have life much worse than what I do.

  10. SuctionCatfish

    “This is all your fault, you know.”

    “You don’t think I know that?” she hisses, her voice breaking mid-sentence. The low sound of sniffing and moving around fills my ears. My parents’ voices suddenly clearer than ever.

    “I’m calling the nurse, there has to be some kind of news, some kind of progress.” My father’s deep voice sounds from my right side, and the faint sound of a button being pushed is present above my head.

    Where am I?
    What is this?
    Why can’t I move?

    “Is there a problem, sir?” I hear a soft female voice say as a door is opened.

    “What is the situation with my son, and has the… err… issue been dealt with?” my, until now, silent, mother says from my left side.

    “I’m sorry ma’am, but unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be any progress yet. He’s stable, but until he hopefully wakes up, there isn’t much we can know for sure. But please! Keep hoping for the best, people have woken up later in a coma than where your son is now.” There was quiet for a short time. “And yes. He has been escorted from the premises.” She ended with a forced tone in her voice.

    Who has been escorted?
    Why does she sound like that?

    I try to yell and kick, but nothing happens, I just exist in the darkness. The nurse leaves and my parents chat for an unknown amount of time until they too leave me. Time is irrelevant. I don’t know if I sleep again, but the next sound I hear is the door opening and faint voices. I don’t recognize them at first and I try to listen extra carefully as the door closes and footsteps are coming towards me. I feel a hand in mine. It feels like my hand is asleep, but only where it is touched.

    I feel lips gently touching my forehead, that incidentally also feels like it’s asleep. I didn’t even know a forehead could be asleep. A tear falls down to my skin.

    “I’m so sorry baby. Please wake up. Please. I can’t without you.” I hear a whisper. It’s so low and broken that I have to strain to hear it. I do my best to move my head, open my eyes, make any sign to show that I’m awake. I have to. I can’t let them give up. I can’t let them…

    But nothing happens. I just lay there. With no sense of time or reality.

    Is this just a dream?
    Am I awake?

    “Oh my god” the whisper turns to a joyful laughter. That’s when I realise that my eyes are open. And he’s standing there looking at my hand. I look down to see my finger moving. I want to speak. But I still can’t.

  11. Dutchess_of_Hyrule4545

    The heart monitor beeped at a decent pace of sixty-five beats per minute. It has been three months since I’ve made that stupid mistake of drinking and driving. If I would’ve known the price I had to pay for my mistake, I would’ve changed my mind right then and there.
    I’ve been in the hospital for over three months now. I’m not sure if God is punishing me for my little mess up. If He isn’t, then it sure does feel like it. For three months, I’ve lain alone in my little hospital room hearing the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and of my actual heart. But even if it looks like I’m in an eternal sleep, what my family members and doctors don’t know is that I can hear every single conversation that takes place in that hospital room.
    “Mrs. Jones, I can only give you two options at this point. You can take him home with you or…” The doctor paused. “you can stop his sufferings.”
    My mother gasped in fear. From the sounds I could hear, my mother was fighting back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. I then heard some ruffling of what I assumed was her handbag. She blew her nose and cleared her throat to speak up to the doctor.
    “Doctor, can you p-please just give me a few moments alone with him? Before I make any decisions, I want to talk to him first.” She said as the tremble in her voice became more noticeable.
    The doctor didn’t reply but I’m guessing that he left since I heard footsteps leaving my room. The tapping of my mother’s footsteps became louder as she approached me. I could hear the scratching of a chair being pulled up to my bedside. I heard some more sniffling until my mother spoke up in a whisper.
    “Son, I know you can hear me. And before I say anything else, I want to tell you that I love you with all my heart. And I know at times I haven’t been the mother of the year that you deserved. But seeing you in such a vulnerable state made me realize that I-I must atone for my past sins. I will make up for all the mistakes I’ve done by taking you back home. I love you forever, Son.” My mother then got up and kissed my forehead before leaving the room.
    At that moment, I regretted everything I’ve said to my mother in the past. I regretted all the horrible things that I’ve done in the past. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell my mother that I loved her, too. I wanted to tell her that I did hear her. At that moment, I wanted everything to be all right.
    The months that followed, I was moved to my mother’s country house. It was peaceful and the chirping of the birds kept me relaxed.
    Until one morning… my eyes opened.

  12. Jeunou

    “I love you Jen”
    He’d said it more like a prayer than a confession, his voice dulled by his sorrow. In my mind his eyes flashed their usual blue In the bright sunlight. How many times had I wished for him to look at me with those sunny blues and say those words? Never like this, never with this endless barrier between us.
    For three months I laid here silently, drowning in the noise of the outside world as doctors, nurses, friends and family visited my bedside with words of comfort and assurance, with misplaced confessions and empty promises. I would know every time he visited as for a brief moment my world would fall silent, the door closed, the room holding just us, for brief moments in a series of chaos we were whole and silent.
    For weeks he’d sat beside my bed in total silence, his visits often consisting of a kiss on the forehead as he arrives, a hand squeeze as he leaves, yet today his borrowed lips had uttered words I’d longed to hear for so long and yet offered only the confirmation that I had feared hearing. My condition was worsening. Sure I’d heard the doctors hushed words of slowing brain activity and I’d felt the tears of visiting family, but his words served as the final proof with their reverent tone and unrequited promise. I didn’t have long left and he would never know the truth and maybe, neither would I.


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.