Through All the Dust

“Blair!”
I shot up, my head pounding with a ringing in my ears.
“Blair!” Tyler panted as he sprinted to me. “Are you okay?”
I was rubbing at my eye; it throbbed like a real son of a bitch.
“Do you need glasses?” I snarled.
He laughed a little, kneeling down beside me and pushing my hands away from my face. He tilted my chin and moved his head along in a line, surveying the damage intently.
“It’s going to bruise,” he chuckled. “You’re going to look so good.”
“It’s your fault!” I groaned, trying to blink the pain away.
Tyler snickered, flipping around so he was seated on the ground beside me. He nudged my shoulder with his as a way of apologizing. He’d concocted a plan to make new friends (and, I quote, come out of his shell) and that involved playing sports. Baseball, specifically. I had no idea how to throw a ball, let alone catch one. That didn’t matter, though. Tyler begged me to help him practice.
And I’d never been very good at saying no to him.
He’d misjudged his strength, and aim, and effectively pitched the ball straight into my face. My eye was already swelling so rapidly that I could hardly see out of it.
“Your mom’s going to freak out,” I laughed, resting my head on my best friend’s shoulder.
He shrugged, “It was an accident…You know who is going to freak out, though?”
I looked up at him.
“Caroline,” he grinned.
The air excused itself from my lungs. We were supposed to be going to dinner the next night to honor a senior partner that had finally decided to retire. My aunt was keen to take his job—but we weren’t to discuss that. Any time I had to play passenger to any of my aunt’s work obligations, I was expected to be dressed to the nines. She placed such high standards on me that there was no possible way I’d ever reach them.
“How bad is it?” I panicked, widening it as best I could so Tyler could take a second look.
He winced.
“God damn you, Tyler Brody!” I whined, pushing myself onto my feet.
“Tell her I’m sorry!” he roared with laughter. “If it helps, it makes you look pretty badass!”
Maybe Ty thought it was funny, but it was the worst pain I’d ever been in. It pulsed from my eyeball all the way into my brain. He hadn’t even apologized to me.
“Blair,” he howled, keeling over from the fit. “You just look….” He stopped to take a breath. “It’s so fucking funny.”

My eyes shot open.
My ears were ringing. Something was beeping. Was I beeping? Where was I?
I tried to move but couldn’t. Everything was bright—it burned my eyes as I tried to focus. Panic set in when I realized I couldn’t move my head at all.
My lips parted but no sound came out. It hurt so terribly to even try.
“Blair?” I heard a voice in the distance. “Blair?”
The overwhelming white proved to be too much. It quickly shifted to black and the voice disappeared. Then the beeping. Then my breathing.

“Why do you even like her?” I growled, spinning in my chair to better face my adversary. “She isn’t even nice to me!”
“Why does she need to be nice to you?” Tyler scoffed, his back up in defence.
I raised my brows in response, “Are you fucking with me?”
“She isn’t your girlfriend,” Tyler hissed. “She doesn’t have to be nice to you.”
“She isn’t exactly sweet to you either,” I retorted cockily.
Tyler shook his head, “For someone who isn’t jealous, you sure seem jealous. I just can’t figure out if you’re jealous of her or jealous of me.”
“I’m not jealous of either of you,” I promised him smugly.
“You haven’t had a boyfriend since we were ten years old,” Tyler growled. “It makes sense that you’d be so jealous—but that isn’t my problem. So, stop trying to push your bullshit life onto mine.”
“My bullshit life?” I laughed sarcastically. “You really want to get into that with me, Tyler?”
“Yes, your bullshit life,” he maintained. “Wah, wah, wah, I’m Blair Peterson and my parents died. Boo hoo, my auntie had to take me in and she’s really mean. No one loves me. Blah, blah, blah.”
My jaw dropped. Even in our darkest ditches, Ty had never been cruel. But then he’d have his moments where everything he said would make you want to stab him. Fifty times.
“Yeah?” I challenged. “Why don’t you go kill yourself, Ty?”
He nearly choked.
“Oh, that’s right,” I snarled. “You can’t even do that right.”
“Fuck you!” he shouted.
“Fuck you!” I shouted back.
He took off, slamming my bedroom door behind him. I tapped my fingers against my legs as I tried to work out a plan of action. Tyler would have kept walking and never come back—so, true to form, I took off after him. I would say whatever I had to in order to make it right. I had to—for his sake more than mine.
“Tyler! Wait!” I called, darting out the door and down the stairs behind him. “Wait for me!”

I stirred, feeling queasy and disoriented. It hurt to open my eyes, but I pushed passed the strain. The lights were dim—something was beeping.
My neck was held in place by something foreign, so I moved around the rooms with my eyes only. There was a door…nothing of interest passed it. There was an ugly green chair to the right of said door, a painting of a sail boat hanging above it. I started to get nervous.
My eyes moved as far left as they could, where I was overjoyed to spot the man I loved so dearly. He was slumped over, his eyes closed lightly, as if not on purpose. His perfect hands were folding in his lap.
I tried to call his name, but nothing came out—not even a whisper. It was static air.
With a deep breath, I tried again; harder this time.
“Bri—” was all I could get out.
He shot awake like he’d just heard gunshots. His eyes darted around before settling on me. A wave of relief washed over his face as he reached out for me with utmost aggression. I winced from the impact.
“Hey,” he soothed, firming up his grip on my hand.
I tried to smile, “Hey…”
“You sound great,” he half-laughed.
“I feel great.”
He looked me over sadly. His eyes were always a dead giveaway—there was so much life behind them. So much grief. Whatever had been happening, it was weighing on him heavily. I was desperate to understand what was going on.
“What happened?” I asked pleadingly. “Am I okay?”
“You’re okay,” Brian cooed, leaning over to kiss my forehead affectionately. “I should go get someone.”
I tried to shake my head.
“Don’t move your head,” Brian scolded me as he caught on to my attempt. “They’re worried you tore something in your neck…So, you have to be still and uncomfortable until the end of time.”
I blinked at him.
“I’ll be right back,” he smiled, kissing my cheek quickly before climbing to his feet.
“Bri,” I said as loudly as possible.
He turned and looked at me, both expectantly and adoringly. If ever I’d questioned whether his love for me was true—I’d never have to wonder again.
I gulped down my terror, “I don’t want to die.”
Brian looked like he might break in half. He nodded oddly before ducking out of the room. I tried to remember what happened…
Last thing I remembered was grabbing my keys from the end table…
I pushed myself harder—I needed to dig deeper. Unfortunately, I came up short. I’d just have to rely on what other people would say…and maybe hope a little that my forgetfulness was a blessing in disguise.
Brian came back a minute later with a tall man in a white coat. When he first walked in, I almost swore it was Jimmy. My heart had elated at the prospect of everything being some dream. Like I’d imagined my life for the last few months. But no. It wasn’t Jimmy and it wasn’t a dream.
“How’re we feeling?” he asked before leaning over me and shining a bright light into my eyes, one at a time.
“My leg hurts,” I said weakly.
He nodded, switching the little light off and dumping it into his jacket pocket, “You fractured it in three places, it’s going to hurt.”
My facial reaction must have given away my horror.
“Can you tell me your name?” he asked me, sitting at the edge of my bed.
Brian watched from his place leaned against the wall.
“Blair Peterson,” I answered.
“How old are you, Blair?”
I thought about it for a second, “Twenty-four.”
He asked me a couple more obligatory questions, I assume to make sure that I was still intact. Once he was convinced that I was mentally aware enough, he proceeded to give me the run down.
“You suffered severe trauma to your right leg and hip. The leg is fractured in three places, one of which will require surgery, which you’ll have sometime this week while you’re here. You dislocated your right hip. You received trauma to your left arm and there is a hairline fracture in your wrist. We’ll have to cast that today. Do you have any recollection of the accident?”
I looked from him to Brian, “Accident?”
The doctor frowned, “You sustained some internal bleeding, some in the brain…We’ve kept you sedated for the last four days until the swelling subsided. You’re out of immediate danger, but we’ll need to keep a close eye on you for the next few days. The lack of memory is fairly normal, it should return with time…Do you have any questions?”
“My neck?” I choked out.
“Oh!” he laughed, springing up and over me, unfastening the collar-type thing and pulling it away. “We were concerned about one of your x-ray scans, but the secondary scan came up clean. It was just a precaution.”
I squinted at him.
“Any questions?”
I shook my head.
“Great,” he concluded. “I’ll let you get situated. We’ll be in to check on you soon.”
Brian thanked the tall man as he stepped back out into the world. Brian neared me cautiously, unlike before. I tried to sit up—that elicited some energy from his camp. He guided my body up and he supported my spine as I adjusted.
“Everyone was here,” Brian told me oddly. “Marge and Tom are in town…Caroline too…I just sent them home to get some sleep…The guys just left an hour ago…”
“It’s okay,” I stopped him. “I don’t need to look at anyone else right now.”
Brian melted a little, “I love you so god damn much. Do you know that?”
I smiled, “I feel it.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed defeatedly.
My eyes glanced away and out the window where a raven was perched on the rooftop in my view.
“What happened?” I asked boldly.
“You really don’t remember?” Brian asked, sitting himself next to me finally.
I shook my head.
“Do you want to know?” he asked cautiously.
“I mean,” I gestured to my body with the arm that didn’t hurt, “Kind of.”
“You were in a head-on, Blair,” Brian told me sadly. “Someone crossed the line and…Yeah.”
“Are they okay?” I asked helplessly.
He nodded, “They’re fine.”
“Good,” I sighed.
“Typical Blair,” Brian smirked. “You’re all mangled to shit and all you care about are the people that hit you…It’s nice to have you back, even if you’re all broken.”
“Don’t patronize me,” I breathed. “Not now.”
“I wasn’t,” he smiled, taking my hand into his. “I’m just really fucking happy you’re awake.”
“How did I get here?” I asked curiously. “An ambulance?”
He nodded.
“Oh god, is it all over the tabloids?”
He nodded again.
“My baby?” I asked, horrified for the answer.
Brian frowned, his eyes sympathetic, “Sorry, Babe. The Camaro’s gone.”
I could have cried. I loved that car.
“We’ll get you a new one,” Brian assured me lightly, sensing my pending mourn.
I tilted my head at him, “That isn’t really the point.”
“I know. The point is that it’s a car; we can buy you another one,” he continued simply. “The point is that you’re still fucking with me. I don’t give a fuck about anything else. I’m so god damn relieved that you’re alive.”
And for the first time in months, I wholeheartedly agreed.

Notes

I just couldn't leave you guys hanging.

But know that I really, really wanted to. ;)

xx