The Midnight Series: Darkness Comes to Light

11. Confused

I woke up hearing different noises and I felt very warm. I could hear people talking, but all I heard were murmurs of what must have been a conversation. I opened my eyes, blinking twice to clear my groggy vision. I pulled my arms out from under the blanket and sat up slowly. I held my head in my hands and felt like I had an intense headache.

I looked around the room, slightly confused as to where I was. The last thing I remember was getting lost in the forest. I looked around at the room I was in. The television and couch I was lying on seemed familiar, and then I looked in the direction of the voices. I could tell one person was my dad talking, but the other person, I did not recognize by their voice.

I wanted to get up, but I knew my head and body were not on the same page at the moment.

“EMMA, THANK GOD! You scared me,” Dan said with a heavy sigh of relief and worry in his tone.

I turned my head to see my dad and another man standing in the entryway now. I subtly smiled at both of them, while trying to lean my head on one hand. The gentleman standing next to my father was Caucasian, but very pale. He looked to be around five feet and nine inches tall. He had light brown hair, and his eyes were hazel brown. He seemed well-educated and seemed to have a good amount of money, by the way he dressed. His shoes were black leather, they did not look cheap, and his coat alone looked like a tan leather trench coat.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, looking down as I put both hands in my lap and fiddled with the blankets with my fingers.

“It’s okay, I am just glad you are okay. This is Doctor Richard Lawson,” my dad explained, gesturing to the man next to him. “His sons, Jason and Mitch, were out camping in the woods and found you. You hit your head. They called their father and brought you back here. Do you remember what happened?”

“Hi, Doc!” I responded, with a shy smile. I sat there and tried to think back on what I could remember. Then it came to me. I remembered that I was lost and it was getting dark. My phone was useless because I had no service. Also, I remember seeing someone before I passed out, but I chose to keep that little detail to myself. I looked up at my dad and Richard, explaining all of what I remembered except the part about seeing someone.

“I don’t remember much. I remember I wanted to go explore the woods and then I got lost. My phone had no service. I tried to find a road, so I could call for help, but that is all I remember.”

“Well, Emma. You have a mild concussion,” Richard explained. “Take it easy tomorrow. Lots of rest. You should be fine to start school on Monday. I will come by tomorrow around three to see if you are cleared to drive yourself to school on Monday.”

“Okay. Thank you,” I replied with a smile. I looked at Richard’s face and I could tell he had seen the bruise on my ribs. I mean it would be hard to miss. I could tell he did not tell Dan though, because Dan would have questioned me right then and there. I was relieved my father did not see it or know about the bruise. The bruise was painful, it was still a little purple, but was healing and fading slowly.

“See you tomorrow,” Richard said, returning the smile to me and turning to shake my dad’s hand before leaving.

Before I went to bed, I examined my head in the bathroom mirror. Thankfully, the swelling on my hairline was gone and I had a small bruise forming, which I could cover with the little makeup I had left. I climbed into my bed. I am not sure if it was the exhaustion from all the walking and the injury I received, but my head hit the pillow and I zonked. I got a decent amount of sleep, despite constantly turning back and forth in my sleep.

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I was in the living room, just lying on the couch all day. I had the television on but I really was not watching whatever was playing on the screen. I stared absentmindedly at the screen, not really interested, more bored just waiting for three o’clock to roll around. Richard was supposed to stop by before Dan got home. I really wanted to be cleared to drive.

I had brought my sketchbook down with me earlier this morning, when I went down to plop my buttocks in front of the couch all-day, while I waited for Richard. I grabbed my sketchbook off the floor, as well as my pencil, and opened it up to a clean page. I held the pencil in my fingertips, tapping it lightly against the blank page, thinking of what to draw. Without even deciding what to draw, I started to draw on the spur of the moment. The pencil glides across the page, making light lines here and there and adding shadows and shading in the darker areas. I was using my finger, as always, to soothe out the shading. I pulled the picture back to take a look at what I drew. I drew a teenage boy, strong brows and nose, sunken cheeks, and a smirk spread on his lips. I was about to add some hair, when the doorbell rang.

I set my sketchbook and pencil on the couch and got up to answer the door. I opened the door and Richard was standing there. He smiled down at me, and I returned the smile. I waved him in and shut the door, locking the deadbolt. I am not really sure why I locked the front door. Common practice that I did when I was living at the house with Katherine and my siblings.

I looked at the clock as I made my way into the kitchen. It was three o’clock exactly. Richard is very punctual. I still do not see why I was getting the VIP, in-home patient care. I guessed it was my dad’s doing, shrugging off the concern. How did he even know the doctor?

I sat on a chair at the kitchen table. The silence filled the air as Richard placed his black, leather doctor’s bag on the table. The bag looked old, well-used and loved. He started to pull out the stethoscope, blood pressure cup, and small discreet flashlight. I watched him lay the instruments on the tabletop. I looked at the flashlight; it looked like a pen.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

I looked up into his hazel eyes, “I feel good. No headaches, nothing.”

“That is a good sign,” he stated, with a smile.

He checked my eyes and then checked my breathing. I thought we were done when he checked my ability to push and pull, and my walking. The one thing I noticed was his ice-cold skin when I touched him. I thought it was a bit weird. I shrugged the feeling off, as he was cold-blooded or a blood condition.

Something about Richard made me feel drawn to him; I liked him and this was only our second time meeting. He was very nice and easy to talk to. I was not fond of doctors, but he seemed well-educated and very professionally good at his job. As he was finishing up with his assessment of my health, he asked me about my favorite hobbies.

“I like art. I draw a lot,” I told him.

“Do you have a favorite thing to draw?” Richard asked, putting the blood pressure cuff on my arm.

“I like to draw people,” I said with confidence and happiness in my tone.

“Good for you, people are always an interesting topic to draw,” he said to me. “ So if you had to choose a famous artist, who would you pick?” he questioned.

“That’s easy! I like Mary Cassatt. She is my favorite female artist. I like how she paints women and children doing a variety of things. She captures the women and the children doing things that people back behind them considered not normal for women and children to do. She painted the women and the children as she wanted and not how society expected them to act.”

“Good choice,” Richard said, smiling and undoing the blood pressure cuff and placing it back in the bag he pulled it out of. “So Emma, you are healthy and the concussion is completely gone. I am confident in telling you you are cleared to drive.”

I looked up at him with a cheesy grin. I am happy that I was cleared to drive. I did not want Dan driving me to school on Monday. I looked up at Richard, who was now placing all the instruments back into his bag. He glanced over at me, making me drop my gaze towards the floor. Richard grabbed the unoccupied chair on the other side of the table. He pulled it out and placed it closer, next to the chair I was sitting in. I kept my eyes on the floor, knowing that he was going to mention something serious. I knew he saw the bruise on my torso. My heart was beating out of my chest, just hoping he would not ask or talk about it. Katherine’s threat, drumming my head like a beating drum: 'Remember if you tell anyone, you will regret it. You will be hurting your sister and brother if you tell anyone. And no one will believe you any way.’

He cleared his throat, making my turn to look at him.

“Emma, I saw you had a bruise on your ribcage. It seems to be healing nicely, but what happened? Did someone do that to you?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Um…I fell and hit my side on my bedpost a day before I left to move here,” I lied. “Please, don’t tell my father. I am such a klutz and it was an embarrassing accident,” I explained, trying to make my lie sound more convincing. I looked down at my hands, before looking up at Richard’s face. Richard stared back at me, his face unreadable. He stared into my eyes as if he was trying to tell if I was lying or not. The way he looked at me showed a fatherly worry. I could tell he seemed skeptical about what I told him, but he did not push any further with questioning.

Richard opened his mouth as if he was about to respond, when I heard my father’s truck pull into the driveway. I let out the breath I did not realize I was holding. Relief flooded over me. My dad has perfect timing. Dan had just got home from work. I stood up, without taking a second look at Richard, and walked to the front door. I turned the deadbolt, unlocking the door, before turning the door knob and pulling the door open just as my dad stepped up the last step to reach the front door.

He looked up from his house keys he was holding, and smiled. “Hey sweetheart. How was your day?”

“Great!” I smiled. “I am cleared to drive myself to school.”

“That is great news,” my dad replied, holding his arms out for a hug. I stepped forward into his embrace, and hugged him back.

He let go and we both walked into the house. Richard was putting his jacket on, when my dad and I walked into the kitchen.

“Thank you, Richard,” my dad said, holding his hand towards him. Richard reached his hand out and they shook hands.

“Anytime Dan,” Richard replied, with a polite nod. He turned towards me, “Now you be safe. Don’t hurt yourself.” Richard looked at me with a serious fatherly look.

“Yes, sir,” I smiled, giving a salute.

Richard just shook his head and chuckled. He grabbed his bag and headed towards the front door. My dad walked him out to his car.

I ran up the stairs, skipping every other step. Not wise to do after what just happened, but I did not care. I was ecstatic. I ran into my room, closing the door. I went to my closet to decide what I was going to wear tomorrow. It is my first day of junior year. I was still on the fence about starting a new school, especially since I am new to town. I bet everyone already knows each other. I mean it is a small town. I picked out a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, my black Nike sneakers, a maroon colored shirt that had three-fourths sleeves that would cover the fading scratches on my arm. I set the clothes onto the chair of my desk.

I ran down stairs to get my sketch book, content with the clothes I chose to wear tomorrow. I picked my sketchbook, pencil, and phone up from the couch and went back to my room. I sat on my bed with my back against my pillows, which were resting against the headboard. I had my knees bent, making my legs the perfect tabletop easel for my sketchbook. I held my pencil, twirling it between my fingers, thinking about finishing the drawing of the boy I had been drawing before Richard arrived. I decided to finish the drawing of the boy later and opened a new page. I looked at the empty page. Thinking about the conversation that I had with Richard. I wonder what he likes? Does he draw or just admire art?

I wanted to draw something for him, but what? I started to lightly sketch the layout of the redwood trees. I added a doe hiding behind a tree. When I finished shading the dark areas to add more depth to the drawing, I looked at the picture to admire my finished product. I signed the drawing three inches away from the corner like I was taught, and turned the drawing over and wrote: Here’s my way of thanking you myself. Hope you find as much comfort in this scenery as I do!

From: Emma Patton, August 2013

I closed my sketchbook. I placed it on my nightstand, and then plugged my charger into my phone. I went downstairs and grabbed some nacho cheese Doritos chips and a small stack of salami out of the refrigerator, before heading back up stairs to my room. My dad was sitting in his recliner with beer in one hand and a cold slice of pizza in his other hand. I ate my food, which appeased my hungry stomach.

It was only six o’clock, but I was a bit tired, or at least my body was telling me I needed sleep. I set the alarm on my phone to wake me up at five thirty in the morning, before I turned off my lamp beside the bed.