under a heavy blanket of warm air. The room was stuffy like her kitchen, but she shivered, a cold inner chill creeping through her. Maybe Grandma had gone across the room to open and close the window to even the temperature. She listened for the creak of the wood, the window being forced up, and the thud of the weights in their channels. Everything was quiet. There was no sound.
The pain struck again. She tried to ignore it, think about Grandma instead…wherever she was. The darkness thickened, blocked all sight and sound, leaving her isolated with a pain she couldn’t ignore. She groaned. The air was heavy and grew even hotter. She couldn’t breathe; the pressure and pain were too great.
A scream came from somewhere. It startled her, a piercing cry that ripped through the blackness. Lana trembled. The gloom split in two. The shriek was shrill and sharp, like a vocal knife. It cut through the dark, slicing down from above and dropping onto her. It severed her, separating her top half from her bottom. Lana screamed. It was the same horrible sound she’d heard just a moment before: anguish, and a plea for relief. She screamed again. And again. Louder and louder. Lightning shot through her abdomen and burned down her legs.
“Grandma!”
Someone moved, came through the darkness to her side. She lifted a hand, but as she did, agony gripped her, coiled her into a ball. Hands tore at the wet bedding around her. She cried, and slapped at the hands. They wouldn’t stop, but everything else did. Everything else began slipping away. Shuddering and hot, she was unable to scream again. The darkness consumed her.
****
There were voices. Voices so soft she couldn’t tell what they were saying. A man. A woman. A man with two heads and two different sounds; Grandma, when she was younger, a little younger, but not much. It was too dark to see them. Maybe she’d died, maybe these were mourners. She wanted to tell them she really wasn’t dead, they just needed a light so they could see she was still breathing. At least she thought she was. It was too dark to tell.
****
The scream came again. It shot from her depths, seared through her abdomen, knotted her chest, and raked her vocal cords as it escaped. It hurt, everything hurt, she was too hot, there were too many hands. They pushed, they pulled, they pressed. She wanted to bat them away, but she couldn’t. Her arms lay dead at her sides.
****
The scream went away. A soft whimper took its place, a sweet muffle. It jarred her, its gentle cry far more powerful than the scream. Her arms flailed when she heard it, dragged her upwards through layers and layers of murky water, the darkest being left below, a glow of soft gray above. Voices were in the thin grayness overhead. Men, a woman, maybe two of them. The whimper increased. Her heart pounded and she swam harder. Something touched her, something cool on her forehead, something warm beneath her legs.
“She can’t do this again.” It was a man. Someone she didn’t recognize. The gray was gone, a foggy glow in its place. She frowned, tried to see who he was, her eyes squinting through the haze.
“She’s waking up!”
Grandma? Ella? The whimper became a wail. Her eyes opened. She was sure they did. Tall shadows stood like trees around her. One moved close and touched her.
“Lana…Lana, can you hear me?” It was Ella. Her voice gurgled, like she was talking through the water, or maybe it was tears. The wail came nearer. A soft, warm bundle pressed against her. Her arms were too heavy to move, too exhausted from swimming to the light. She dropped her chin down near the cry at her side, rolling her head close to the squirming warmth. What if she really was dead? Or dying? What if she couldn’t find the tiny voice? Her limbs lay lifeless, joined together by dull pain and exhaustion.
“You understand?” It was the same man as before. He sounded firm. “She can’t go through this again.”
A grunt answered him,
The pain struck again. She tried to ignore it, think about Grandma instead…wherever she was. The darkness thickened, blocked all sight and sound, leaving her isolated with a pain she couldn’t ignore. She groaned. The air was heavy and grew even hotter. She couldn’t breathe; the pressure and pain were too great.
A scream came from somewhere. It startled her, a piercing cry that ripped through the blackness. Lana trembled. The gloom split in two. The shriek was shrill and sharp, like a vocal knife. It cut through the dark, slicing down from above and dropping onto her. It severed her, separating her top half from her bottom. Lana screamed. It was the same horrible sound she’d heard just a moment before: anguish, and a plea for relief. She screamed again. And again. Louder and louder. Lightning shot through her abdomen and burned down her legs.
“Grandma!”
Someone moved, came through the darkness to her side. She lifted a hand, but as she did, agony gripped her, coiled her into a ball. Hands tore at the wet bedding around her. She cried, and slapped at the hands. They wouldn’t stop, but everything else did. Everything else began slipping away. Shuddering and hot, she was unable to scream again. The darkness consumed her.
****
There were voices. Voices so soft she couldn’t tell what they were saying. A man. A woman. A man with two heads and two different sounds; Grandma, when she was younger, a little younger, but not much. It was too dark to see them. Maybe she’d died, maybe these were mourners. She wanted to tell them she really wasn’t dead, they just needed a light so they could see she was still breathing. At least she thought she was. It was too dark to tell.
****
The scream came again. It shot from her depths, seared through her abdomen, knotted her chest, and raked her vocal cords as it escaped. It hurt, everything hurt, she was too hot, there were too many hands. They pushed, they pulled, they pressed. She wanted to bat them away, but she couldn’t. Her arms lay dead at her sides.
****
The scream went away. A soft whimper took its place, a sweet muffle. It jarred her, its gentle cry far more powerful than the scream. Her arms flailed when she heard it, dragged her upwards through layers and layers of murky water, the darkest being left below, a glow of soft gray above. Voices were in the thin grayness overhead. Men, a woman, maybe two of them. The whimper increased. Her heart pounded and she swam harder. Something touched her, something cool on her forehead, something warm beneath her legs.
“She can’t do this again.” It was a man. Someone she didn’t recognize. The gray was gone, a foggy glow in its place. She frowned, tried to see who he was, her eyes squinting through the haze.
“She’s waking up!”
Grandma? Ella? The whimper became a wail. Her eyes opened. She was sure they did. Tall shadows stood like trees around her. One moved close and touched her.
“Lana…Lana, can you hear me?” It was Ella. Her voice gurgled, like she was talking through the water, or maybe it was tears. The wail came nearer. A soft, warm bundle pressed against her. Her arms were too heavy to move, too exhausted from swimming to the light. She dropped her chin down near the cry at her side, rolling her head close to the squirming warmth. What if she really was dead? Or dying? What if she couldn’t find the tiny voice? Her limbs lay lifeless, joined together by dull pain and exhaustion.
“You understand?” It was the same man as before. He sounded firm. “She can’t go through this again.”
A grunt answered him,
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