Outside, heavy dark clouds intensified the isolation of her room. A soft glow from the ceiling lights illuminated over her bed. Unaware of all that surrounded her, Celia remained motionless under the thin green blanket. With quiet, barely noticeable breaths, her chest moved softly up and down. Her skin was pale. Her long auburn hair lay tangled and clumped on the hard pillow beneath her bruised head. From a shiny metal pole, tubes delivered fluids to her veins.
“Celia?” The light-haired friend’s anxiety was apparent in her voice. A tingle generated into her wrist, as she banged her index finger against the cold bedframe. She held Celia’s hand gently.
“Celia, can you hear me?” She waited for a response. “Celia, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand. Blink. Do something—anything.” She never expected to say these words to her dear friend. Celia lay silently in the sterile hospital room.
The friend rested back against the torn leather chair—the chair she had pulled close to the bed over two hours ago. Tensely, she watched Celia breathe. The intravenous drip trickled slowly down the plastic tube. She stared at the bruises on Celia’s face and arms and she sighed.
Desperately, she prayed for Celia to respond. Except for the slow breaths that moved her chest up and down, Celia was motionless.
In stillness, she continued to hold Celia’s hand. The doctor entered the room and interrupted her private vigil.
“Does she know yet?” She clenched Celia’s limp hand tightly. “Does she remember anything?”
“No, she doesn’t know. We won’t tell her until she is fully aware. She’s been in and out of consciousness. That’s all.”
“Did she wake up before?”
“Yes, she was awake for a very short while. She’s heavily sedated right now. She needs her rest. Perhaps you do as well. Why don’t you go home and come back later? She won’t wake up any time soon.” He placed his hand on the shoulder of Celia’s blonde friend.
They watched Celia breathe.
