My body felt heavy, weighed down by an invisible force. Why couldn't I move my right hand? I tried to lift it, but it lay limp, unresponsive.
I managed to open my eyes, blinking away the haze. The room came into focus, and I was taken aback by its grandeur. The hospital room was spacious, with large windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The sunlight streaming in highlighted the elegant furnishings, making it look more like a luxury suite than a hospital room.
"Where am I?" I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The nurse's soft voice replied, "You're in the hospital. You were in an accident."
My memories began to resurface – the sound of screeching tires, the impact, the girl I'd pushed out of harm's way. I hoped she was okay; I wasn't.
I attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over me. The nurse rushed to my side, gently pressing me back onto the bed.
"Please, don't try to move. You have a head injury."
I hadn't noticed the bandages wrapped around my head, but now they seemed to throb with a dull ache.
Just then, my mom burst into the room, her eyes brimming with concern. She rushed to my side, her hands grasping mine.
"Nate, you're awake! Are you okay?" Her voice trembled.
"I'm fine, Mom. Nothing to be worried about," I reassured her, trying to downplay my condition.
But Mom's expression turned stern. "Nothing to be worried about? You've been in a coma for three days! If you say another word, I'll knock you back into another coma."
I chuckled, despite myself. Only my mom could make me laugh in a situation like this. I knew her threat wasn't empty; she was capable of unleashing a WWE style smackdown if I pushed her too far.
"Mom, I'm the sick person here," I protested, holding up my hands in mock surrender.
The news of my three-day coma hit me like a ton of bricks. Three days? How could that be? Yet, as I gazed at my mom's relieved face, I felt gratitude. I was still alive.
Mom had gone back to work, leaving me to my own devices. "What to do?" I muttered, feeling restless. The silence was oppressive, and I yearned for a change of scenery. Taking a walk around wouldn't be a bad idea, I thought.
I tried lifting myself up, using the IV poles as makeshift crutches. My legs wobbled beneath me, but I persisted. On the second attempt, I managed to stand, albeit shakily.
With newfound determination, I made my way to the elevator, pressing the button for the first floor. The doors slid open, revealing a bustling hospital scene.
The hospital's grandeur struck me – soaring ceilings, polished marble floors, and large windows that flooded the space with natural light. Patients, nurses, and doctors moved with purpose, each with their own story.
My gaze lingered on an elderly couple who walked hand-in-hand, their faces etched with deep lines of love and devotion. They moved slowly, but their eyes sparkled with a youthful energy.
I continued toward the hospital garden, drawn by the promise of fresh air and serenity. As I stepped outside, the cool breeze caressed my skin, calming my frazzled nerves.
I settled onto a bench, feeling the warmth of the sun seep into my bones. The garden's peaceful ambiance enveloped me, clearing my thoughts and calming my worries.
For the first time in weeks, I felt at peace.
My peaceful reverie was shattered by a woman dressed in somber black, her attire a stark contrast to the serene garden surroundings. She carried a sleek black bag, its contents obscured, and exuded an air of composed confidence.
"Are you Nate Williams?" she asked, her voice firm but polished.
I nodded, wary. "Yeah, I'm Nate. Is there a problem?" My eyes scanned her, searching for clues.
She introduced herself as Emma, legal attorney for Miss Mia. "There's no problem, Mr. Williams," she said, her tone measured. "Miss Mia, the lady you... assisted on the road yesterday, wishes to express her gratitude."
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Gratitude?"
Emma's expression remained neutral. "Yes. Although she sustained bruises and a mild concussion, she's willing to cover your hospital bills and provide compensation. We hope you'll settle this matter amicably."
She handed me a document and a pen, her movements economical. The paper seemed to weigh heavy in my hand, its contents making my blood run cold.
"A settlement contract?" I echoed, incredulous. "You're asking me to sign this?"
The words blurred on the page as my mind reeled. Instead of a heartfelt thank you from Mia herself, I faced a lawyer's veiled threats.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Literally saving someone's life, putting mine at risk, and this was the response? A cold, calculated offer to silence me?
Emma's gaze remained steady, her eyes unreadable. "It's in your best interest, Mr. Williams. Miss Mia is willing to be generous."
Generous? The term stuck in my craw. I wondered what lay beneath Mia's decision to send her attorney instead of thanking me in person.
I surged to my feet, adrenaline fueling my movements. The settlement contract crumpled in my hand, I tore it into tiny pieces, the paper shredding like my dignity. The fragments drifted to the ground, like confetti mocking my attempted heroism.
With a newfound determination, I struggled to steady myself, grasping the IV pole for support. My legs trembled beneath me, but I refused to show weakness.
"Listen," I began, my voice low and even, "I'm not signing any agreement. I don't need her money." Emma's expression remained impassive, but I pressed on.
"Tell Mia to shove her money up her ass. If she truly cares, she'll come herself and thank me for saving her life. Is that too hard to do?" My words dripped with disdain.
Emma's eyes narrowed, her lips compressing into a thin line.
I turned to leave, my walk far from iconic. Instead, I stumbled forward, my IV pole wobbling like a fashion model's unsteady heel. My hospital gown flapped open, revealing a glimpse of my battered body.
"God..." I muttered, mortified. My grand exit had devolved into a geriatric catwalk.
As I shuffled away, Emma's voice trailed behind me, "Mr. Williams, this isn't wise."
I spun around, my eyes flashing. "Wise? You think I care? I saved her life, and this is the thanks I get? A lawyer and a contract? No, I'll take my chances."
The hospital corridor se
emed to stretch before me like a gauntlet, but I stood tall, my fragile dignity intact.