Unspoken Memories (Unspoken Series)

BOOK: Unspoken Memories (Unspoken Series)
2.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub




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One of the Unspoken Series

© 2013 by Gabbie S. Duran

art by
Sarah Hansen at

done by

formatting by
JT Formatting


limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of
the above author of this book.

is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized,
associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

book is dedicated to all the runners, family, and friends effected by

tragic event that occurred on April, 15

might have tried to stop us, but as runners we unite as one. We never give up,

keep moving forward, and we keep running on




I CAN HEAR voices, two to be exact,
a man and a woman. They’re speaking quietly, but loudly enough that I can
clearly make out their conversation. I can't open my eyes, no matter how hard I
try, and they feel heavy, so I keep them closed.

“I can't leave her, she's our money ticket!” he says in a
very stressed tone.

“How much good is she to you now? She's in a coma! We don’t
know if she's ever going to wake up.” This comes from the woman, and from the
way she says it, I know she isn’t happy.

“Well, it doesn't matter, I need a little more time to try
to figure out how to access the rest of the funds. The longer she's in this
coma, the more time is on my side, and the more money we get.”

Okay, this is where the conversation is getting really
interesting to me. At this point I'm trying hard to open my eyes, but I keep
getting pulled somewhere else, back into the darkness. My gut feeling is
telling me keep my eyes closed and keep listening, so that's what I'm trying to
do, I’m fighting the pull that wants to take me away.

“Well, I'm tired of being your fuck buddy, I want more!” she
demands of him in a very loud whisper.

Fuck buddy? Why is she being a fuck buddy, and whose? But by
the way she tells him this, I have a feeling that she's been his fuck buddy for
a while.

“Look, when we started this you knew to never expect more,
but if she's going to be a vegetable for a while, I'm thinking things are going
to change very soon.”

This doesn’t sound good. I start to freak out, especially
since I feel like a vegetable right now. No matter how hard I’m trying, I can’t
move a muscle. I wonder, are they speaking about me?

The room suddenly grows quiet, and I start to hear footsteps
fading in the distance. I believe they’re leaving, because I hear the opening
and closing of a door.

I give it a couple of seconds, but the room is still silent.
I can finally relax. Then all of a sudden, the darkness begins to take over



I FEEL MYSELF slowly waking up again
and I let out a light moan. I can feel the grumble of it traveling down my
chest, and it aches. I feel so groggy and weak. I don’t want to wake up, but my
body is not allowing me to fall back asleep and I try to slowly open my eyes.
It’s hard at first, but after a couple of blinks, I’m successful at bringing
them to a slit. My body is aching as I try to lift my arm. It feels like
weights are holding it down, but I’m able to move my hand, I think.

What is that sound? It’s a constant beeping, coming from the
side of my head, and it’s speeding up as I move in that direction. I try to
lift my arm to get to it, with little success because there’s something tugging
at it. When I look down, I see an I.V. attached to my arm, why would I have an
I.V.? I attempt to completely open my eyes. I see an older lady who is wearing
nurse’s scrubs walking towards me. She must have done something, because the
loud beeping is finally gone. It was making my head hurt, so I’m grateful she
finally made the thing shut up.

“Good, you’re awake,” I hear her say next to me.

I feel her warm hand grab onto my wrist while she looks down
at a watch she is wearing. I’m still confused. I have no idea where I am.

I manage to move my head a little and take in my
surroundings. It looks like I’m in a hospital room. It’s white, and almost
empty, with only a couple of chairs in each corner. There’s a flat screen on
the wall directly in front of me, with a clock to its side, stating it’s almost
six. Underneath the clock there’s a white board with writing on it. I guess my
nurse’s name is Karen, since that’s the name on the board.

“How are you feeling Ms. Adams?” Karen says, still focusing
on her watch.

I lie there wondering why I’m even here, and how did I get
here? Wait, what did she call me? Is it my name? It doesn’t sound familiar.

I have no clue where in the world I am and I don’t like it.

“Where am I?” I ask Karen, wondering why I would be in a
hospital room.

She looks up from her watch, with a blank face. “You’re at
Washington Memorial Hospital, Ms. Adams.” Then she goes back to looking at her

I’m still confused, why is she calling
that name? “Who’s
Ms. Adams?” I ask her, confused.

She lightly snaps her head up again to look down at me, and
draws in her eyebrows. Her smile has disappeared and goes directly to a frown. “Why,
you are, of course,” she informs me.

She places my wrist down back on the bed, patting it
lightly. “I’ll just page your neurologist and we’ll go from there, okay?” she
says as she turns and walks out of the room, leaving me there still baffled by
the whole situation.

A couple of minutes later, another lady walks into the room.
I’m assuming she is my doctor because she’s wearing a white coat. She looks
Indian and young. But as she’s walking in she has a smile on her face and it
gives me a bit of hope.

A bit.

“Ms. Adams, I’m Dr. Kumar, your neurologist. How are you
feeling, dear?” she enthusiastically asks me, while swiftly grabbing my chart,
opening it, and beginning to review it.

Knowing the truth will never hurt, I say bluntly, “I feel
like shit and I really have to pee.”

This makes her laugh, as she pulls out what looks like a pen
from her coat pocket, walks to the side of my bed and leans above me. I realize
it’s a flashlight as she starts flashing it back and forth between my eyes,
making me flinch. It burns my eyes and if my arms didn’t feel so weak, I would
have swatted that darn thing out of her hand.

Trust me, I try, but I quickly give up the notion. Once
she’s done shining the death light at me she replaces it in her coat pocket and
walks to the end of my bed to pick the chart back up and starts scribbling
notes into it. I lay here staring at her.

As she’s still scribbling, the nurse walks in again with a
new I.V. bag and busies herself with changing it while the doctor asks me, “Ms.
Adams, would you be more comfortable if I have Karen here remove your catheter
so you can go to the bathroom yourself?” She is still staring down at the chart
making notes.

I nod my head in agreement, but can’t help asking again, “Who
is Ms. Adams? You both keep calling me that name?”

The doctor quickly snaps her head up, while the nurse stops
fiddling with the bag and they both stare at me in shock.

The doctor immediately looks at the nurse. “Call her fiancé,
and order a CAT scan STAT.” Then she looks down at me and says, “We’ll just
order some more tests to make sure there isn’t any swelling remaining and go
from there, okay?” She finishes with a smile.

Still very confused about what is going on, I nod my head in
acceptance and hope that I’ll remember something in a couple of minutes. Right
now the only thing I keep thinking about is the conversation I heard earlier.
Or I think it was earlier. I really have no idea when it took place. It almost
feels like it only happened a couple of minutes ago and I’m really anxious to
find out who was in my room. But more than anything I still have to pee.

My thoughts must have taken me away for a couple of minutes
because the nurse has managed to remove my catheter and with a lot of
assistance, I’m able to sit up on the bed. At first my body is wobbly and
unbalanced, but after a few minutes I find the strength I am searching for and
make my merry way along, holding onto the nurse for dear life. The metal stand
holding the I.V. bag follows me the whole way.

It’s hard to walk when you have something attached to your
arm following you around. After the first tug at my arm, I want to yank the
thing out myself. However, the nurse keeps saying I have to leave it in, since
it is providing me with the fluids to increase my health.

That is the only reason it stays in.

After some major maneuvering, again with the nurse’s help,
I’m finally able to relieve myself in the attached bathroom. I can’t go at
first, knowing she is standing there staring at me. But even after asking her
for some privacy, she only moves to the doorframe of the bathroom.

Finishing up what I needed to do, and washing my hands, I
take a moment to stand in front of the mirror and stare at my reflection. Other
than needing to take a brush to my hair, I look perfectly fine.

Or at least I think I do for someone who is in the hospital.

Actually, I don’t recognize myself at all. You would think
that I would at least recognize my reflection, but it doesn’t come to me. So I
stand there staring at myself and take in my features.

My hair is blonde, very long, and my eyes are a very bright
green. I’m also tall. I remember being at least half a foot taller than the
nurse, towering over her a bit. Another noticeable thing is that I’m very
skinny. Don’t I ever eat?

When I hear the nurse knock on the bathroom door making sure
that I’m still okay, it distracts me from my thoughts, also reminding me that
we have to go get my CAT scan done right away. I exit the bathroom and allow
her to lead me to the bed, laying me back down.

An hour later, after being put through a cocoon-like
machine, as I’m being wheeled toward my room, I see a man rushing in my
direction. He’s practically running when he walks and he looks exhausted. I
don’t know who this man is, but by the way he’s looking straight at me and
still walking in my direction, he knows me.

He looks to be in his mid-thirties and he’s wearing an
expensive looking suit. He’s lean, and tall, but not too tall. He has
disheveled black hair, as if he’s been running his hands through it. He has
stress lines around his face, but at this moment his face is lit up and he’s
happy to see me.

“Oh honey, you’re finally awake, I've been so worried about
you,” he says as he reaches me, giving me a kiss on my forehead. I’m really
confused about who he is because I don’t recognize him. But when my mind takes
in his voice, realizing that it sounds very familiar, I panic.

If I were still hooked up to the monitor at this moment I'm
pretty sure it would be making the crazy noises from earlier, because my heart
rate is going crazy. First it feels like it had stopped, and now it's
accelerating because I'm freaking out.

This is the voice, the male voice I heard the last time I
heard anything, but he’s alone this time. I immediately start looking around,
thinking about the other mystery voice, the one that belongs to the woman,
expecting to hear it any minute. But I don’t.

He follows, as the nurse continues to push me back into my
room and once we're all in the room, he starts attacking the doctor and nurse
with different questions. There are so many, it’s even confusing to me.
Although the most important one is how much longer I'm going to be here now
that I’ve woken up. That particular question is the one I care about the most,
because I'm pretty sure when I leave here I don't want it to be with this guy.
The uncomfortable feeling I’m getting from him is not making me feel good.

I keep staring at the guy, hoping that I would recognize him
somehow, but I can’t. He seems worried about me, so obviously he must be
someone important. However, I think about the ominous conversation that took
place that included his voice.

Wanting to know who he is, I demand, “Who are you?” I say
out loud, looking directly at him.

He snaps his head to look at me and he’s disoriented, like I
just asked the stupidest question in the world. At this point it sounds pretty
stupid to me too, but I really need to know who this stranger is.

He frowns, bringing his lips into a flat line, and finally
he says, “I'm Bill, your fiancé.”

Now I'm screwed
, I think. I'm pretty sure that this
was the voice I heard with the woman the last time I tried waking up. But, why
would my fiancé be someone else's fuck buddy? I don’t understand. Right now my
life is starting to feel like some kind of soap opera and I’m obviously the
starring actress.

BOOK: Unspoken Memories (Unspoken Series)
2.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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