*Beep, beep.
The beeping sound continues—a quiet yet annoying noise that I have been listening to for as long as I can remember. I hear people's voices some are soft, whispering prayers. Others are muffled sobs, choked with emotion. Some speak to me as if I can respond, sharing updates about their day and about the world outside these walls.
But I can't.
I don't understand why I can only hear them, yet I can't see them. I can feel, yet I can't move. My thoughts are loud, swirling endlessly in my mind, but I can't speak.
What just happened to me? It feels as though I am chained, blindfolded, and gagged.
"Greg! Call the doctor! I saw her fingers move!" someone shouts.
The urgency in her voice startles me. Was she talking about me? Did I really move?
More voices fill the room. Footsteps rush toward me. Everything feels overwhelming. Then, an unbearable brightness invades my vision.
"Can you hear me?" A woman speaks gently while flashing a warm light in my eyes.
"Blink twice if you can hear me. Can you hear me?" she continues. I blink twice, and I hear everyone clapping and crying.
"Good! Can you move your head? Nod if you can," she says.
I force my head to move—it feels heavy, but I manage a nod and she starts squeezing my hand.
"How about this?" she asks. I nod again. She moves to my feet, applying slight pressure, and asks the same question. This time, my head feels too heavy to nod, so I blink.
"Thank you, Lord! My daughter is finally awake!" she exclaims through tears. Warm arms wrap around me. The scent is familiar and comforting.
"Oh, sweetheart… Thank you for being so strong," she whispers, sobbing into my shoulder.
I can't see everyone clearly; My vision is blurry, and my mind is still groggy. Shapes and colors mix together, but I recognize figures around me. The woman in the white coat—she must be the doctor. She ordered everyone to leave the room and give me some space for a while.
"It's nice to see you awake and conscious. I am Dr. Sherry Williams. We will check your vital signs and begin disconnecting these life support systems."
Life support?
What happened to me?
They started checking my vitals and started to work gently, removing the tubes and wires that tether me to the machines.
"How's your breathing? Do you feel like you're getting enough air?" she asks. I nod in response.
"How about tightness in your chest or throat?" I shake my head to indicate no.
"Can you please take a deep breath in and out, and then try coughing?"
I take a deep breath and cough.
"Does your coughing feel normal?" I nod in response.
"Good. Can you speak clearly? Can you tell us your name?" I open my mouth and weakly answer, "Yes."
She then repeats her question: "Can you tell us your name?"
My lips part—but nothing comes out.
A sudden wave of confusion crashes over me.
My name.
What is my name?
My heartbeat quickens. My fingers twitch against the sheets.
"You don't remember?" She asked.
I shake my head, my throat tightening.
Dr. Williams remains calm. "That's okay. Do you know where you are?"
I force my gaze to scan the room. Machines. IV drips. Sterile white walls.
"Hospital," I say in a weak voice.
"Can you tell me what date it is today?"
A pause. My mind searches for an answer buried deep within.
"August 16, 2022."
She slowly sets down the paper she was holding.
"Do you know why you are here?"
"I remember I was in a hurry packing my stuff, and then I got into the car and left the house. That's all I remember," I say. I try to recall more, but I come up with nothing.
"Today is August 24, 2023. Your name is Noa, Noa Ysabelle Schmid. You've been in a terrible car accident and fell into a deep coma for a year. You have experienced a traumatic brain injury due to the severe blow to the head during the accident."
I am shocked and speechless after hearing those words.
An accident.
A coma.
A year.
The words slam into me like a truck.
I try to remember, but my mind is blank.
"It's okay to feel confused; retrograde amnesia is common among post-coma patients who experienced traumatic brain injury. Do you know your parents' names?" she explained and then asked again.
"My dad? Uhm, he is Gregory Schmid and my mom is—"
My lips part again. "And my mom is—"
My breath catches.
I don't know.
My mother's name—it's gone. A void where her identity should be.
I shake my head, panic clawing at my chest. Dr. Williams steps closer, her voice soothing. "It's okay, you don't have to force yourself to remember everything, Noa. But don't worry, we'll help you recover at your own pace, for now, take some time to reunite with your family. We will transfer you to your new room first."
As they wheel me away, exhaustion settles in. My body feels impossibly heavy.
"Is it okay for me to sleep? I feel sleepy," I asked the doctor because I was scared I might not wake up again if I slept.
A pause.
Then, a gentle smile. "Of course you can. Your body is still weak, and your brain is still healing, and sleep helps the brain repair itself and regain normal function," she explained.
"Just sleep whenever you like, we'll wake you up when it's time for your meds."
Relief washes over me as my eyes flutter shut.
----
The sound of waves.
The scent of salt in the air.
The warmth of the sand beneath me.
It's all we need and all we want.
Josh's head rests on my lap, his eyes closed as I run my fingers through his hair. The stars stretch endlessly above us, a blanket of light over the quiet beach.
"Promise me," I whisper. "No matter what happens, we'll find our way back to each other."
He opens his eyes, gazing at me with unwavering certainty.
"You are my home, Belle, and if I ever get lost, I will always find my way back home—back to you."
"Why does it have to be this hard? All I want is to be with you, but it seems so impossible," I said, my voice trembling as tears began to fall.
He quickly sat up and hugged me, gently wiping my tears away. "Hey, it's okay. Everything's going to be alright. We just need to wait; once I become a lawyer, maybe they'll start to accept me for you."
"How long do we have to wait, love? Why can't they understand that I want to be with you?" I asked, clinging to him tightly.
"There are things we can't force, Belle. Sometimes, situations like this require time. We just need to wait, so please be more patient, my love. We will get through this and overcome it together."
"I don't want to wait," I said firmly. "You're going to Moscow, right? Take me with you, please. I want to come with you—let's leave together," I pleaded.
His brows furrow. "Belle— why so sudden? You don't have to do this. What about your music career? The Juilliard School? Your family? They will surely be mad at you, especially your mom."
"I don't care about Juilliard anymore. I don't care about my music career. I want to be with you, so take me with you, please!" I begged.
"But—I still have nothing to offer you. You're already living a good life, you can get whatever you want, and I can't give that to you right now. Your mom's right; I will never be able to afford to love you."
"You have everything, Josh. You've showered me with all the love, care, and affirmation you could ever give. I don't need the things my parents provide for me. You are enough. You're all I need."
He looks at me, searching my face for doubt. But there is none.
Finally, he sighs, a small smile playing on his lips. He kissed me passionately as we slowly lay down on the sand.
"I love you past the stars."
"and into forever," I replied.
We both shared a genuine laugh.
"Tomorrow evening at the park, I'll wait for you there," he said, and we held each other tightly.
I nod, feeling lighter than I have in months.
We quickly got into the car and drove back home. I carefully and quietly sneaked back into my grandma's house. As I slowly closed the door, the lights suddenly turned on, and there stood my mom, her expression filled with disappointment.
She slowly walked toward me. "Mom, I—I only went for a wa—" A hard slap landed on my cheek.
"You ungrateful bitch! You think I will never know? I don't care who you're fucking right now—you will never see him again! I already fucking warned you, Noa! I won't let anything or anyone ruin your dream!" she shouted furiously.
"Your dream! This is all your dream—the Juilliard School, the music career! You want me to pursue this because you never had the chance!" I snapped. "I don't want to become a musician! I never dreamed of playing music on stage! This is all your dream! I don't want to be in Juilliard—I want to be in law school. I want to practice law!"
She let out a mocking laugh. "You? A lawyer? "You think you're smart enough to get into any law school? Hah! We enrolled you in music because you were never born an academic genius. You are not like your father, you're stupid, Noa, You were never smart enough to be like him. You're nothing more than a pretty face with a music talent."
Tears stream down my cheeks, hot and relentless. I'm furious- burning with anger-but I can't let it out. I swallow it down, clenching my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms.
I turn to leave, desperate to escape before I say something I'll regret. But just as I take a step toward my room, she grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my skin like claws. Her voice is low, dripping with venom. "Plant this in your brain, Noa-do not fucking oppose me. You don't want to see me truly mad, do you?"
Her grip tightens. A chill runs down my spine. For a brief moment, I meet her gaze. Her eyes are sharp, unyielding silent warning. I say nothing. l just yank my arm free and storm to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. My whole body trembles as I press my back against the door, breathing heavily. I refuse to live like this.
Not anymore.
I grabbed a backpack and packed some clothes, essentials, and documents. I hid my bag under the bed—I was ready to leave tomorrow night.
"Tomorrow, I will live a good and unapologetic life," I whispered repeatedly until I drifted off to sleep.
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