LUCK AND THE UNLUCKY
slowly, Abel drifted back into consciousness.
The first thing he noticed was the sterile, clinical scent that filled the air—an unmistakable mixture of antiseptic and faint traces of disinfectant. The smell was sharp, yet oddly soothing.
A soft, rhythmic beeping reached his ears, breaking the silence of the room. It was accompanied by the gentle hum of machines.
His eyelids felt heavy as if they were weighed down by an invisible force, but he managed to open them, squinting against the harsh, fluorescent light overhead.
The brightness stung, and for a moment, his vision was a blur of white and gray. He blinked several times, his eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Slowly, the room came into focus.
The first thing he saw was the ceiling—pale, off-white tiles arranged in a neat, sterile grid. His gaze drifted downward, taking in the dull, beige walls, broken only by a large window to his right.
As his vision cleared, Abel noticed the IV drip connected to his arm, the clear liquid slowly dripping down the tube.
Next, his eyes fell on the machine beside his bed, which was emitting the steady beeping that had first greeted him.
The bed he lay in was narrow, with stiff, white sheets tucked tightly around him. He felt the coolness of the cotton against his skin and the slight pressure of a bandage on his forehead.
Suddenly, all the information came rushing into his throbbing head.
So it wasn't a dream... it wasn't all a nightmare? He was in an actual hospital. He was the person they were losing... and... and he was the one they had brought back.
Abel felt fear mingle with pain as he tried to push himself from the bed. He could feel the haze swirling in his head just from the little effort he had exerted, and before he was even halfway, he fell back.
He could not do it. How come he could not do such a basic thing?
He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell for someone—anyone—to come and answer his flood of questions. Where was his mother? Where was Hilsa? And why... why was he here? Why was he like this?
Yet even as he thought about this, Abel felt a trickle of warmth fall from the corner of his eyes.
He knew it. He knew all the answers to his questions. He had seen it for himself, but still... despite all the overwhelming proof, he needed someone to walk through that door and tell him it was all an illusion, that somehow he was here through any other reason aside from what he knew to be true.
And someone did walk in alright.
"Hilsa!"
Abel exclaimed the moment that colorful head emerged through the door. He momentarily forgot his painful failure just a short while ago and attempted to sit up.
Well, he was reminded of it instantly.
In a span of a second, a sharp pain cut across his head right through to his heart.
"Uugh!"
Abel moaned as he fell back a second time. His consciousness teetered at the edge of darkness, but his stubborn will would not let go. He held on for dear life.
He could not go back to that hole—not when he had too many questions seeking answers.
His eyes were shut as he tried to brave the pain, but he heard Hilsa's cry of surprise, he heard something fall, and in a second, he could feel her breath so close to his face.
"Abel... you...you are awake... thank God you are awake..."
He could tell she was on the verge of tears, and her hands were delicately touching his hand and letting go. He guessed it was because she was probably confused whether her actions weren't doing more damage.
Her relieved reaction lasted a few seconds, and when she saw the pain in his face, it changed back to fear.
"Someone here, please... he is awake..." she was saying and then stopped.
She rushed to the opposite side of the bed where the bedside table was. He felt the impact and knew she had pressed the 'nurse call button'.
'Brilliant girl,' Abel thought.
Why had he not thought of that earlier?
He heard the rush of feet approaching his bed.
"What happened?" a low but curious feminine voice asked.
Abel could tell that she was busy checking the equipment connected to him even as she asked.
"I just walked in and he... he was awake," Hilsa explained, still in a trembling voice. Her hand was now delicately holding his.
"Are you sure?" the nurse asked.
Abel could tell she was still checking things. He was, however, getting annoyed by her questions, especially seeing that the pain he was trying to suppress was becoming unbearable.
"Of course, she is... and can I get some painkillers, please?" Abel said.
A tense silence followed his request, and Abel knew that, for some reason, it had caught even the nurse by surprise, which was weird since this was a frigging hospital. The very least they should have is painkillers.
After several seconds, the trance appeared to have been broken.
"What!" the nurse exclaimed, her voice now quite close to Abel.
"Painkiller, please," Abel repeated his request. He was getting impatient.
"I told you...," Hilsa cried once more. "He is awake... you are awake," she said, and Abel knew without looking that she was crying.
'Come on... why did they make it sound like he had been sleeping for ages?'
"Stay with him. I will get the doctor," the nurse said to Hilsa before running out.
'Oh, please, for mercy's sake... he had to wait again? How long before a doctor arrived?'
In the meantime, Abel wanted to brave the pain and get Hilsa to answer his questions. So despite the pain, he forced his eyes slowly open and fought the pulsing throb in his head as he turned to look at his friend. That was, however, all he could manage.
He knew what to say, but when he tried to form words like he had when answering the nurse, they wouldn't come.
"Hil-sa,"
the name sounded strange even to him, like he was experimenting with it... like he had never mentioned it before.
Hilsa did not answer. Tears just trickled down her face as she held his hands.
Abel suddenly felt a sense of relief.
Looking at her, not a blemish was on her face, and she appeared perfectly fine.
It was clear to him that she had come out of the accident unscratched. He did not know how, seeing that she had been in the front seat together with his mother, but it did not matter.
Not only did he feel thankful for it, but he also knew what it meant. His mother had also survived, and now that they knew he was conscious, it was only a matter of minutes before she rushed in to embrace him.
Suddenly, a commotion drew his attention to the door as several people rushed into the room.
Even with his poor sight, he could immediately tell it was the nurse who was back with the doctor—well, several doctors and even more nurses.
'All for a painkiller?' Abel thought, feeling a bit pampered.
But as he stared at their faces, he suddenly knew why.
It was his mom's hospital—the place she worked.
He could see familiar faces in the group, even Sally, his mom's best friend, who had been at their house several times. Some even had tears in their eyes as they looked at him. He wanted to say hi but couldn't, so he forced a painful smile.
How come his mom wasn't here yet?
Abel heard the deep voice of the doctor issuing instructions to the nurse. He felt one of the IV lines in his hand tighten, and slowly, the pain began to subside. In mere seconds, he could see clearly.
"Hff," Abel took a deep breath of relief causing most of the nurses to laugh
The doctor, however, wasn't satisfied.
Hands reached out and peeled back his eyelids. Suddenly, a flashlight was shone into his eyes, and Abel flinched at the sudden light.
"Good," the man said. "Abel, can you hear me?" he asked as he gently guided Abel's head to face him.
Of course, he could hear them. Now that the pain had gone, he found that even talking wasn't an issue anymore.
"Yes," he said, and a collective breath of relief came from the small crowd.
"That is good," the man said as he moved one finger in front of Abel's eyes.
"How many fingers can you see?"
Well, he could see all of them, even the ones he had folded, but that wasn't the point.
"One," he said, following through as the doctor continued to add more fingers.
Why was all this even necessary? And why had someone not called his mother yet?
Surely, she couldn't be on a shift? Even then, she could easily be excused. Besides, it was a Saturday—her off day. She should be here.
"Excellent," the doctor said, finally feeling satisfied.
"Welcome back, young man. It's been two long months!"