Chapter 2 #2
Her eyes lift to mine again.
I already know the question she is going to ask. And I have no answer to it. Because even if I do remember pieces, I still don’t know how it happened. Or why.
“No.” I shake my head.
“They never found the bodies,” she whispers. “Do you think Daniel maybe survived?”
She rises from the chair and steps closer to the bed before sitting down again, leaning toward me. “Maybe he…”
Bodies.
I close my eyes.
The accident flashes through my mind again. I can see a glimpse of the car, then the undeniable feeling of water filling my lungs, the memory of drowning tightening in my chest all over again.
“I…” My mouth opens, but the air catches in my throat as I try to breathe.
Bodies. Not just bodies. They were my parents.
But they didn’t matter to her. They mattered to me.
Martha presses both hands over her mouth, holding them there as William’s voice cuts in from the doorway before she can speak again.
“Enough.”
“It’s okay,” Martha sniffles, wiping her tears when she notices him walking closer. “She can say.”
Her voice is soft. But the look in her eyes says something different entirely. It reflects the quiet wish that Daniel was lying in this bed instead of me.
“She would only confirm our son is dead, Martha,” he says.
That is how he has always been. So cold. Daniel was the complete opposite.
William clears his throat and folds his arms across his chest as he looks at me.
“We came to see how you’re doing.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not finished talking,” he slightly raises his voice.
Martha’s gaze drops to her lap again.
“We spoke to Dr. Reynolds. You won’t be staying here much longer.”
My brows lift. “What do you mean?”
“You will be discharged tomorrow morning.”
Martha shifts in her chair.
“Sweetie… we wanted to talk to you about that.”
“It’s been just two days since I woke up. How… where would I go?” My breathing speeds up, and my chest burns as my heart begins to pound harder against my ribs.
“You’re not a child anymore. I’m pretty sure you’ll figure it out,” William says.
Silence settles between us. Then a thought forms in my mind.
Heat rushes into my cheeks as my hand slowly reaches for Martha’s. The question sitting on my tongue feels humiliating before I can even say it out loud.
“Can I stay with you for a few days?” I whisper.
“Oh, sweetie.” Her voice softens. She looks at me, then at William. “That won’t be appropriate.”
“Appropriate?”
“Your father owed a lot of money, and people are saying he gambled everything away,” she says carefully. “Some even say someone paid to chase the car that night to teach him a lesson. We can’t be associated with that.”
Associated?
“The bank took the house for the debt he owed, but there is more to it,” William adds. “We paid for the funeral to show our respect because your parents were our friends. And we covered your hospital bills. But we are leaving for England in a week, and we can’t do anything more.”
He pauses.
“Your parents had financial problems for a long time.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
All I can hear now is the ticking of a clock behind them.
Tick- tock, tick and the fucking tock.
The sound pulls me back to the night of the accident.
William and Martha organized a gala every year on January 11th. This year was no different—except their spotlight was stolen when Daniel finally announced to everyone that we were getting married. I say finally because we had been engaged for months before he told anyone.
I had sat stiffly in my chair at a round table surrounded by faces I didn’t know. In front of me were crystal glasses, polished silverware, and behind me, the quiet hum of conversations. But my eyes stayed on my father and Daniel standing across the room.
They talked. About business, I think. Something about importing from England to the US. Something about keeping it quiet because William Grant didn’t want his only son to work with my father.
I couldn’t hear them, but I read every word on their lips.
The rest of the room faded, and everything blurred until there was only Daniel.
He looked at me and smiled. So proud.
I smiled back. The night was good for us.
My parents were happy that I was marrying Daniel Grant, and all I wanted was to make them happy.
People were watching us; whispers passed between the tables. Normally I never cared about what people thought about me. But they loved it. They adored every bit of attention they got.
Daniel was born into it. My father wanted to be part of it.
So, he approved. Daniel Grant was finally good enough for his daughter.
Just as I blink twice, the memory fades.
I’m back in the room, staring at Martha and William Grant.
All I can think of is the question. If my father had known who Daniel really was, would he still have approved? Or would Daniel’s money have been enough?
I move my gaze to Martha. “Did Daniel know?”
“He knew enough.” William answers.
I swallow before speaking again.
“Thank you for paying for the funeral and the hospital bills.”
“Of course.” Martha stands up and taps my hand twice. “I’m sorry we can’t do more.”
“Best of luck,” William says as she slips her hand under his arm.
“Thank you,” I say.
I turn away and slowly lower myself back into the bed, holding the notebook Dasha gave me.
It’s a strange feeling; knowing everyone around me knew what was going on, and they all kept it from me like I wouldn’t understand, like I was too fragile to hear the truth.
They kept me inside this bubble, thinking if I knew, I would somehow break. But that bubble had cracks, so many cracks.
And every one of them was already close to breaking long before I saw the truth.
Now it just feels like I was alone the whole time. While they stood around me, pretending I still had training wheels attached to me, teaching me how to walk for the first time.
1. Little one