Have you ever felt like your life has become something of a joke? Or had always been? She was at that stage five minutes ago. At the moment, she was wondering what would happen to the rest.
It would only be downward from here she thought. Her hands bloody, pieces of dirt and small rocks stinging her palms. Her eyes fixated on the ground as fresh blood pooled beneath her and between her legs. Seeping through the cracks in the rough pavement. It smelled like a hand that gripped the steel railing going down the stairs. Unpleasant.
She looked up, sudden motions grabbing her in slow halting movements. Vision blurry from silent tears. The scene in front of her had not changed. A passerby was still trying to reanimate her mother. But it was now ten minutes underway, and she had given up hope while the man was getting tired. Her dad was lying next to her, sleeping a never-ending dream. Peaceful. If not for the blood on his forehead and the weird angle his head was in she could have asked him to wake up. As it was no time to sleep.
The cleaning robots had gathered around. An automated ambulance came rushing in. It assessed the situation, placed her mother into a recovery tank and drove off again. Efficiency. Blaring sirens lightning up the place.
The passerby was jobless now and after wiping away the sweat on his face he looked around. When his eyes landed on her, they became wide with worry but she didn’t know why. Sure she couldn’t hear anything at the moment and the world had a dangerous spin to it but she felt fine.
She would lie on the street for a bit. She felt tired now. But nothing rest couldn’t fix. If this man could stop with the passionate gestures right in front of her face that would be great. She closed her eyes but felt a violent jab in her side. Opening her eyes again she wanted to shout at the random stranger to have respect for the injured.
The light that shone into her eyes was too bright. She had to squint her eyes, trying to cover them with her hand but found she couldn’t. Was this man holding her down? Did he have a thing for injured thirteen-year-old girls?
She felt something pulling her up and a cold liquid spilling over her like diving into a swimming pool. If someone had filled the swimming pool with blue jelly and vibrated in a curious way. Through the strange liquid, she could see how she was being moved, as she saw the clear sky pass by. The annoying man hovering above her head, mouthing something she couldn’t understand.
A dim steel grey interior replaced the blue sky as a small shock went through the liquid. Shaken by the inertia of movement. As the grey turned into black, her final thoughts were of the small boy the garbage truck had almost run over. It had succeeded to evade boy. Instead, it drove over her car like they were a bump in the road. Her dad had been in a stubborn struggle to put the straw into her packaged drink. Spilling half over himself when he succeeded. A short-lived victory. Why was there a small boy on the road? Why did the AI truck-driver kill two people and injure a child? How was that more logical than driving straight over another? What kind of algorithm would allow such a thing? Why had the end of her parents' life looked so comical? Her father cursing at the sticky substance all over his good suit. Her mother laughing at him. Then blackness.
Waking up with a start she sat up straight but fell back down again right away. She fell into whatever soft surface she was on with a groan. Her head feeling like it was about to burst open like a watermelon meeting a cannonball. Moving her hands towards her head she assumed the fetal position. Then tried to groan her way out of this bad situation. Something scratched her cheek, and she looked at her arm seeing a white wristband attached to it. That shouldn’t be there.
“Riley Phillips. Patient: 552234. Status: Severe trauma to the head.” it read. The words “Severe trauma” didn’t do justice to the feeling Riley went through at the moment though. Figuring out what the hell it should state felt as an exercise better suited for another time.
The frick was happening. She tried to speak but her throat was painful. Thus, except for a deep and groaning rasp, nothing but a metallic taste left her throat. Her memories were vague. Like a dense cloud had moved into her brain, making all her thoughts slow and cushioned.
As her eyes shifted from her wristband to her surroundings, she notices the other people. Some in beds, some sitting around the beds. Some had wires sticking out. Others made no sign of ever interacting with people ever again. The lucky ones were talking, waving their arms around and smiling.
At the end of her own soft surface, which she recognized as her own bed now, stood a man wearing glasses, a white coat and holding a tablet in his hands. The sounds of agony she was making didn’t seem to disturb him or any of the other people. There were no other people around her bed, which gave her a creeping sense of foreboding.
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Where were her parents? She tried to speak but again nothing good came out. This time though the white-clad man seemed to notice, and he came closer. His professional face tightening while he put a hand on her shoulder.
No, no, no, no, no. Panic came over her. Her head hurt so damn much that she couldn’t move or fight it or even object to the words the white-clad man was saying. They had passed on. He was sorry. A new kind of pain tore through her body as everything went black again.
She woke up to the laughter of a small child. Her head was hurting less, but her heart hurt more. She looked around for the source of the laughter and found the boy on the road laying in the bed next to her. A weird assortment of people surrounded him. All seemed both worried for the boy as they were angry with each other. The joke of life was everlasting it seemed. The searing all encompassing pain of loss soon overwhelmed the small bit of hatred. She tried to go back to blissful darkness. It didn’t come. Instead, a voice came from the other side of her.
She groaned as she turned around. She found that not only her head and soul got injured but her whole body. As it was protesting every movement that was not the fetus position. The source of the voice came from a short pear-shaped woman. Glasses thick, her head sporting short grey hair. But it was the look of compassion that stung more than the happy family on her other side. Making her feel regretful for ever attempting the turn.
Seeing she had turned towards her the woman stated her intended business “Hey Riley. I’m Jacqueline from social services. How are you feeling?”
Riley stared back, uncomprehending what the woman, Jacqueline, was asking. Should she explain to the woman how much pain and sadness she was feeling? Was she supposed to do the whole “I’m fine” routine here? Either would be a waste of breath even if she could talk. She tried anyway but only some grunts came out.
“Ah don’t speak honey, the doctors said you will be fine in a few weeks but until then you will need to write everything down.” The compassionate smile sliced at her mind again. She wanted to poke at the woman's forehead for asking her a question while knowing she couldn’t respond.
The woman coughed while Riley stared daggers into her.
“Because of your parents' death we will need to find a new guardian for you once you leave the hospital. Unfortunately, your parents had no relatives that are alive so we will need to place you in an orphanage. But only till we can find the right home for you. I’m sorry.” The woman said.
Tears welled into Riley’s eyes and she nodded her head to show she understood. Another thing for the pile. She turned away from those god-awful eyes. She was about to assume the fetal position again when a melodic and gentle voice floated her way “I can take her in. If she wants to.” She paused and looked in the general direction where the boy was lying. curious about whoever would take in a perfect stranger.
The smile of a beautiful forty-something woman greeted her. The woman looked at her without compassion. There was worry and a strange kind of hope that didn’t suite the situation. But it didn't feel awkward. If anything it gave her a sense of hope, the composure of the woman giving it an extra nudge.
“I have been through the mandatory checks and have been waiting for the right time. This would be such a time. If only so we can do something back for saving this little boy over here.” She rubbed the hair of the confused boy for an instant before she brought back the eye contact to Riley.
A very fat and old man laid a hand on the beautiful woman's shoulder. His eyes looked confused and his brows furrowed. Soon the tinges of realization and understanding were coming through on his face at a rapid pace. “Are you sure Norma?” he said, his voice like that of a concerned grandfather, “What will the CEO think.” A smile from ear to ear broke through his face. The woman's cold facial features became a shade of red “Dad please, this is a serious matter.”
The man stopped smiling and looked at Riley. His features softening but there was no pity, only curiosity. “Serious indeed. This puts a lot of matters into a different light..” He mumbled, gave Riley a wink and set down on a creaking chair, withdrawing from the conversation.
The woman, Norma, looked at her with a tinge more worry than before. Before asking “Would you be ok with that Riley?” She shrugged, not sure about anything anymore before darkness embraced her once more. Whatever life might there be after all this? She had no answers to give.