WHITE WALLS by Lauren Hammond

the whole time telling myself…
    Do.
    Not.
    Stop.
    And I don't.
    I break through a thick mass of wiry branches and jaggers, barely noticing when the thorns cut into my face. Branches snap as I swat at them with my hands, bursting through the brush in just enough time to see the road beneath my feet.
    A road?
    I'm on a road.
    My head jerks up and my eyes shift to my left as a bright white light blinds me. It blankets my body from head to toe. I shriek, arms raised. Palms face up.
    Then the light devours me and I drift off into the quiet, calm sea of darkness.

Chapter Nine

    ~After~

    My eye lids flutter and bright fluorescent lights zoom past me, fading in and out of focus.
    Part of me feels like I'm in a car. There's no top. It's a convertible. The wind whips through my hair and blows it into my face. It feels like the driver is speeding down a long stretch of open road.
    We pass trees.
    Open fields full of long, swaying grass.
    We're going so fast that everything appears to be blurring together.
    But there’s this other part of me.
    The lifeless part of me that feels like I’ve crashed the convertible into a river and am sinking slowly to the bottom of the river bed.
    I hope someone saves me.
    I hope to God they don’t let me drown.
    Muffled voices throb in my ears. I hear a man to my left, talking. I try and turn my head, but I can't. Then I realize they have me in some sort of neck brace. Rolling my eyes to the left, I get a look at the man who is speaking. His gold hair shimmers underneath the bright lights and it looks like he has a halo.
    Wait…
    Did I die?
    Maybe this man is an angel.
    Maybe God sent him down here to bring me to heaven.
    But if I'm really dead, then where is Mommy?
    And Damien?
    My angel is running. I roll my eyes to the right and there is a nurse next to me and she's running too. Her white nurses cap bobs up and down on her head as she runs, her red curls bouncing beneath her cap. Then it hits me. I'm on a gurney. I'm not back at Oakhill am I?
    Nausea circles the pit of my stomach. Please don't let that be where I am.
    No.
    I can't be back there.
    I can't be.
    I know this because I felt like I was running in the forest, dodging trees and my own screwed up hallucinations for days. Maybe even weeks. And I know I can't possibly be back   because I've never seen either one of the people on my sides rolling me down the hall at Oakhill and I know every person in that horrible place.
    “Get a crash cart ready!” my angel shouts. “Where's Dr. Pizzuto?”
    “Here.” There's another deep voice added to the equation and it’s followed by the shuffling of papers. “What's the diagnosis?”
    “She was hit by a car and sustained a number of injuries. Fractured arm. Broken ribs. She's bleeding internally. It's a miracle she's alive. She was already severely dehydrated and there's nothing in her stomach. I don't think she's eaten or drank anything in at least a week. There are also cuts on her feet that are infected.”
    “You've done a good job assessing the patient, Elijah. You'll make a fine surgeon someday.” He pauses. “How did she get here?”
    More papers shuffling. More shouting. “Prep OR two!”
    “We need to open her up and cauterize the bleeding site in her stomach. If we don't she'll bleed out.”
    “Tell me how she got here?” the second doctor repeats his previous question.
    “The couple who hit her dropped her off at the door.”
    “And they didn't even bother to stay to see if she'd live?”
    “No, sir. One of the nurses who retrieved her suspected that they had been drinking. They claim she just ran out of the forest and stopped in front of their car.”
    The tiny bit of strength I had gives out and my eyelids drop down. I try to open them again, but I’m too weak to even do that. I can still hear all these voices echoing around me. I don't know where I am or what's going on. I have the vague notion that I'm in a hospital, but the last few months have been a blur. I've