The Shapes of Okay

Chapter Thirteen

The room was white. Not bright, just blank.Scarlet’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked slowly, disoriented. The ceiling tiles swam. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her body in waves, like the aftermath of a storm she did not remember surviving.

She tried to shift. Pain answered immediately. A sharp inhale caught in her chest before she could stop it. Her left arm was immobilized in a hard cast that reached her shoulder, elevated on pillows. Her ribs protested when she breathed too deeply. Her wrist ached beneath the plaster, deep and wrong.

She swallowed. Her throat was dry. Raw.

She turned her head, expecting someone, anyone. The chair beside her bed was empty. No jacket hung over the back. No half-empty coffee cup rested on the side. No quiet breathing came from the corner. Only the steady beep of the monitor.

Scarlet stared at the chair longer than necessary. Then her eyes flicked to the door. It was closed. She reached for the call button and stopped halfway. Her hand fell back to the bed.

A nurse passed by outside the glass wall and did not look in. Scarlet exhaled shakily. She shifted again, more carefully this time, testing the limits of her body as if it might betray her if she was not gentle. A wave of nausea rolled through her. She squeezed her eyes shut until it passed.

When she opened them again, her phone caught her attention on the bedside table. She reached for it with her good hand. Three missed calls. All from Cade. Two texts from Quinn. One from Henry.

She opened Henry’s first.

I’m okay. Please tell me you are too. xx

Her throat tightened. She typed a reply. Deleted it. Typed again. Deleted it again. She opened Quinn’s next.

Hey. You don’t have to be funny right now.

Just be alive.