dahlia palmer (blindingly) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-01-12 22:04:00 |
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Dahlia hadn't eaten in two days. They kept pushing her; they said that the more she ate, the stronger she would become and the faster she would heal. Fuck them, she thought to herself, and when her fingers grazed the edge of the tray, she shoved it away. It clattered noisily to the floor, spilling its contents of jello and grilled chicken. If Dahlia seemed to care that she just caused a mess, it didn't show on her face. Beside her, the nurse gave a frustrated sigh as she began picking everything up, not for the first time. Dahlia didn't care that she was making the nurse's job harder or that the nurse was a perfectly nice woman who only wanted to help. If anything, it gave her a sort of thrill that she still had some little bit of power, even if that power was confined to making people miserable. It was something, and that something was everything in the otherwise powerless and helpless world she was trapped in. She shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed and crossed her arms, mentally noting how much she hated this damn gown. Why couldn't they bring her normal clothing from home? Once the nurse finished cleaning up the mess, she left with a huff, casting the room in near silence. There were drips and beeps, but nothing substantial. It was too methodical; she might have gone mad, if she wasn't already there. When the nurse returned, Dahlia had no idea how much time had passed, and she didn't feel like groping for the audio-enabled bedside clock to find out. "Dahlia, you have a guest." The nurse's voice was still perturbed, no doubt from having to deal with Dahlia's tantrum.
Ben had heard about Dahlia's accident, of course; she was a regular member of the congregation and she'd always been sweet to him in church. He had sent a floral arrangement on behalf of the mayor's office, but of course she hadn't been able to see them; as he walked into the room in jeans and a nice button-down shirt he saw the spray settled in a crystalline vase in the corner under the TV. "Dahlia, it's Ben Garret," he said warmly after the nurse gave her a heads-up that she had company. In truth, her appearance took him back a bit; she was still beautiful, of course, because she always would be. But she seemed sunken and sallow, the life gone out of her face and aging her several years. "I thought I'd come by to visit for a bit and see how you're doing... is that alright?" He wouldn't be so rude to presume that she just wanted his company desperately or anything; perhaps she wanted to be alone.
If her appearance threw him off now, it was a good thing he hadn't seen her anywhere near the time of the wreck. She'd been a mess of cuts and bruises, but those had ample time to heal before now, leaving only scars in their places. "Sure," was all she said, not about to turn away someone like Ben Garret. Had it been anyone else, she very well might have. Today hadn't been a good day, as anyone on the hall could have told him, but she didn't hate the idea of company right now. "Thanks for the flowers." She hadn't been able to see them, of course, but one of the nurses had made sure to describe them to her. They sounded beautiful, and the gesture was a sweet one. "I would say it's nice to see you, but that would just be too ironic, even for my tastes." The bitter edge to her voice wasn't easily missed, and she tried to imagine the face he would be making. She still remembered his face; it was handsome and kind, the kind of face that could break hearts. Once upon a time, when Dahlia was younger, she had nursed a crush on him, but that was then.
"Oh, Dahlia," he sighed, easing himself into a seat beside her bed and pulling it closer until he could easily take her hand. She felt fragile there, the plastic bracelet too big, loose on her bird-thin wrist. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you, dear. But you're lucky you weren't killed." He squeezed her fingers, his own large warm hands cradling one of hers tenderly. "All of the congregation send their well-wishes. I told them I'd be happy to come by and see if you needed anything, just sit and talk to you awhile. I think they're afraid to overwhelm you with visitors."
Lucky. Yeah, she was lucky, alright. If someone would have given her the choice between dying on impact or waking up like this, she would've taken the first choice. There hadn't been any pain - not that she could remember, anyway. She remembered seeing the van swerve into their lane, the driver obviously having fallen asleep, and she remembered the moment of impact, the sound of metal giving in beneath metal, and the very distinct feeling of being propelled forward. But then there was nothing. No dreams, no sounds, nothing. "Tell them I appreciate it," was what she finally settled on, not wanting to take her anger out on a man as nice as Benjamin. He was just trying to be supportive. She squeezed his hand, thankful for the warm contact. "How's Nona?" she asked, wanting to divert the conversation to something other than Dahlia and her "lucky" streak.
"She's doing alright," he said with a little smile. "School, you know, the usual. She stays busy." He didn't let go of her hand whatsoever, just laced their fingers together to appreciate the connection. "And work's been... well, you know, work. The city council pitched the idea of repaving a few of the main roads, filling the potholes.. city planning stuff. A few new stores want to come in, but I don't know if they'll want to when they see how small the community really is. People don't exactly commute into Crows Landing for shopping," he laughed gently. "Do you get to listen to much music in here? I see there's a radio there."
Sometimes it was easy to forget that Benjamin was the mayor of their little town. He was so down to earth and kind, and she'd never seen him let the title go to his head. "Maybe some new stores would be good for it, though." It was nice, just to talk about something other than her vitals, her physical therapy, or how to "adjust" to the world now that she couldn't actually see it. As of now, her eyes were pointed in the general direction of Benjamin, but they weren't focused on his face; they were constantly moving, constantly trying to focus but finding it impossible without an image to send back to the receptors. "Yeah, my parents brought me all of my CDs and my iPod. It's pretty much all I do. Sometimes I'll listen to the TV." That was rare, though. Dahlia found it depressing to listen to the TV instead of actually watching it.
"When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me stories," he said with an amiable grin that you could hear in his voice. "He didn't have a TV growing up--- my grandpa was a penny-pincher and thought that TV would kind of 'die out'... and my dad used to listen to the radio all the time. You know those old radio programs, where they had soap operas and dramas and everything like that, but you just had to close your eyes and imagine it instead of seeing it. It sounded sort of neat to me. I guess that's why I'm such a big fan of audiobooks. I'd rather just lay back and close my eyes and let the journey take me somewhere. If you'd like, I could go by the library and check one out for you to see if you'd like it? It might make the time pass a little easier. I know it's no fun being laid up like this."
"I don't want you to go out of your way, Mr. Garret." It didn't seem to matter how many times he insisted Dahlia call him "Ben," she couldn't break the habit. Her parents had raised her to have manners, after all, and he was the mayor. That deserved a "Mr," Dahlia thought. "Really, it's okay here," she told him, lying right through her teeth. It wasn't hard to imagine how boring it could get without being able to read, watch TV, surf the internet - all the things that Dahlia took for granted. They were giving her classes on how to do those sorts of things, but it was going to take a while to get the hang of it. She already knew quite a bit of the Braille alphabet. "I really do appreciate the offer, though, and I appreciate you coming. My parents are usually here, but it's sometimes nice to have a conversation with someone who isn't breathing down my neck about everything, you know?" Her parents had already started begging her to move in with them, and she already refused.
"It can be tough," he said sympathetically. "It's tough on everyone, Dahlia. I can't imagine how I'd feel if this tragedy happened to Nona." He squeezed her hand again. "It isn't out of my way at all though, sweetheart, and I'll come back in a few days with a book for you to try on CD. I'm sure I can find something that won't bore you to tears." He smiled again, refusing to let her dwell on her gloominess. "I know it's hard to see anything from this being positive, Dahlia... but you are a very strong girl, and the Lord has great plans for you. You're going to make a big difference in the world. This is just a test for you to overcome, even though it seems like much, much more than that." He squeezed her fingers again gently, his voice serious and quiet. "You're never alone, and we're all beside you every step of the way."
Dahlia actually winced when Ben mentioned God and how he had big plans for her. If anyone knew how much she prayed these last few weeks, how many times she begged God for some kind of alternative, some different sort of test, then they might not have brought it up in the first place. "No offense, Mr. Garret," she said softly, pushing some strands of dark hair out of her face like it actually mattered. "But the Lord and I aren't on the best of terms right now." She still believed, sure, but she was angry and hurt, and the last person she wanted to talk to was the God that could have stopped all of this in the first place. He could have kept the van from crossing the median, couldn't he? Never mind that it was Dahlia who didn't put on her seatbelt. "He could have kept this from happening in the first place. I'm not strong - not as strong as he must think, anyway."
"Oh, sweetheart," Ben sighed softly. "The Lord gives us all kinds of challenges. We're not meant to understand them, we're just people." He reached over and touched her hair with his free hand, stroked it back from her drawn face, tucked it behind her ear for her. "This is a very big tragedy, to be sure, but something good is going to come from it in the future, you just wait. You were spared in that crash for a reason." He frowned a little, a tiny line between his brows. "You can't turn your back on God. Even though it may feel like it, He hasn't turned His back on you, I promise."
"The guy in the van didn't even get a scratch," she said, her voice low and sharp. "We weren't doing anything wrong, and he fell asleep at the wheel. They found empty beer cans in his car." He'd been drinking and driving when he fell asleep. Maybe if he hadn't of consumed so much beer, he wouldn't have gotten so sleepy to begin with. "We were just going out to dinner, and then …" She trailed off and turned her face away from him. Was that God's doing, too? What good could possibly come out of Dahlia being blind? It wasn't like she could help others. Hell, she couldn't even help herself. "I don't think I'll be coming to church for a while," she informed him, and though she didn't elaborate, it was obvious she didn't mean that it was because she would be in the hospital. Even if she wasn't in the hospital, she wouldn't have gone back to church. Not now. Not after everything.
Ben exhaled slowly, nodding his head. "I understand, Dahlia," he said gently. "But please think about what I said. You need support in times like this, you need a sense of community around you. You shouldn't try to do this alone. You're going to have a long recovery, a lot of big adjustments, and we can help. We want to help. To be there to support you."
What could the church possibly do to help support her? Give her trite words of encouragement? Hold her hand? She did her best not to scoff, knowing in her heart of hearts that Benjamin absolutely meant well, and it was unbelievably thoughtful of him to take time out of his day to come and check on her, as it was. "I really do appreciate you being here. For the support, I mean. It's very nice of you." But that was Benjamin Garret. He was always reaching out to other members of the church, always being as helpful and kind as he possibly could. He didn't seem to have a single flaw.
"Everything's going to be okay, Dahlia, I promise. Even though it doesn't seem like it. Your life's going to go on and you're going to do some wonderful things." He nodded firmly, even though she couldn't see him, and then bit the inside of his lip. "Do you mind me coming to visit? I thought maybe I'd come back tomorrow, see if Nona wants to come if you like. I don't mind--- she's so busy with her activities that we don't see each other in the afternoons much anyway. It'd be a pleasure to come sit with you."
She thought about it for a moment. There were some days when she didn't feel like much company at all. Those were the days when she threw the biggest fits - the days where all she could do was roll in her own misery. "That'd be fine," she finally said, unable to bring herself to tell him no or even "maybe." Besides, if she could put up with seeing (or not seeing, more accurately) her parents every single day, she could certainly deal with visits from Benjamin. He wasn't nearly as overbearing as her mother, and his presence was a calming one. "Nice, even."
"Good," he said with a little smile. He would continue to pray for her, and maybe he could get her to pray with him after a bit of time had passed; he wouldn't push, but he thought if she stopped going to church altogether she'd lose herself in the darkness that threatened her now. Dahlia had always been a lovely girl, and he didn't want to feel like he'd failed her. "I'll do that, then. If you don't feel up to a visit, you can always tell me and I'll leave. No hard feelings."
"Some days are better than others," she warned him gently, bringing to mind the clattering of the tray just hours before. And why had she done that? All because she didn't want the food they were offering? Oh, well, she thought, letting her eyelids fall shut. She didn't like the idea of not being able to control her eyes, so it was easier to just shut them. Just a moment or two later, her nurse popped her head in. "Dahlia, it's time for your shower." Her cheeks immediately flared hot, and if she hadn't already been closing her eyes, she would have wrenched them shut. How humiliating; she couldn't even fucking shower without someone's help. "Just let me know when you guys finish up, and I'll be back."
"You can go ahead, nurse; I'm actually about to go," he said kindly, and he squeezed Dahlia's hand again. "Things will get easier, sweetheart. I'll come back tomorrow with some things that I think will help, alright?" He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles in a very chaste, gentlemanly fashion. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Just remember what I said, okay?"