Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
The doctor pulls my hands away, and hands me the notepad again.
“Your mother is outside, I’ll bring her in. You need someone. We’ll run some tests on your ears, find out what’s happening. The nurse will be back soon to take you to them.”
Before I can shake my head because I don’t want my mother to come in, he’s already gone and has left the room. I want to cry out, but I don’t know if my voice still works. Does it still work? It takes a few moments for my mother to come into the room, and when she does, she looks hesitant. She walks over, stopping by the bed. She glances at the notepad, and then snatches it up and writes, “Can you hear me?”
I’m fairly certain the doctor just told her I couldn’t, so it makes me frustrated and angry that she is asking such a ridiculous question when she can clearly see I’m in a terrible way. Why, for one single moment, can’t she just be a mother?
I shake my head anyway.
She takes the notepad again, writing on it. “What happened?”
She doesn’t know yet.
Nobody does.
But soon, they’ll know. They’ll know it’s my fault. They’ll know I caused the accident. And they’ll hate me for it. I can’t say I blame them. I’d hate me if I was in their shoes. Still, for a little longer, I don’t want to hear what she’ll have to say about it, so I just shrug, and I start to cry. Not on purpose, it just happens. I’m so ... broken. Scared. Alone.
“Don’t cry, everything will be fine,” she says, patting my shoulder as if I’m no more than an acquaintance.
I take the notepad and through my tears I write, “Where’s Daddy?”
She looks at it, and her face scrunches. I need someone. I need someone to put their arms around me and tell me it’s going to be okay, even if it isn’t. My dad is the only person I have that can do that for me. I need him. She exhales and takes the notepad, writing, “He’s getting coffee. He’ll be right in.”
Thank the lord. Thank the sweet lord.
I nod and lean back, closing my eyes.
I don’t hear anything else, just that humming that makes everything inside me panic. Have I lost my hearing forever? Is it forever gone? Will I never hear again? Tears run down my cheeks, and a pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt builds up in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I’m so afraid. So scared.
A warm, calloused hand grazes over my cheek and I open my eyes to see my father looking down at me. He smiles, and mouths really really slowly, “It’s going to be okay.”
I lose it.
Sobbing and shaking.
He gets into the bed and he pulls me into his arms. Pain shoots through my side, but I ignore it. I need this, more than anything in the world, I need to know it’s going to be okay. It has to be okay. Please, God, let it be okay.
My dad’s fingers glide through my hair, soothing me. He does this until I stop crying and start drifting off into an exhausted, painful, but mostly silent sleep.
I wished for a silent world.
Is that exactly what I got?
~*~*~*~
NOW – AMALIE
“Oh, my,” I breathe, walking into the massive recording studio. I’ve dreamed every second of every day about seeing one of these, about being inside one, but I never thought I’d see the day I had my two feet planted right in the middle.
It’s everything I could have ever dreamed and more.
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Scarlett smiles at me, then she reaches down and takes my hand.
She tugs me into the massive recording room with the equipment and the chairs and the microphone and headphones, just like in the movies. I look at the big glass window, and I know outside there will be people adjusting the pitch as she sings, changing it, making it sound even more incredible.
My heart feels funny. Happy. Free.
This is incredible.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” I say to her.
“We’re doing it,” she tells me, taking both my hands and holding them. “I spoke to Susan, she is drawing up the contract so you can play on my new album, but of course I didn’t tell her you were going to help me write some songs, too. If that’s okay?”
I nod. “Of course! I can’t wait to help out. I can’t wait to play in here. Gosh, it’s all so incredible.”
“Well, get used to it, chicky. We’ll be spending a lot of time here.”
My heart explodes with happiness.
“Come on, I want to show you something,” she says before turning her back and pulling me out of the room then leading me down a hall until we reach another door.