Sarah - Alive
SARAH
It was all blackness at first.
Then—light. Just a flicker. A faint whisper of it, like the first glow before sunrise. I felt like I was floating. Somewhere soft. Somewhere light. Almost like clouds. I didn’t know if I was dreaming or dying.
There were voices. Distant at first, like they were behind a curtain, underwater.
“…We’ll take her off life support…”
"So she’s alive." An excited voice. Familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Yes, this is very good news. There’s activity in her brain.”
Then—darkness again.
The next time the light returned, I felt a room around me. Not clearly—just shapes, shadows, something resembling a ceiling above me. I tried to open my eyes wider, but the light was too harsh. Someone was holding my hand. I could feel the warmth, hear the soft murmur of words, but I couldn’t make them out. I wanted to hold on, to listen, but I slipped under again.
The third time I surfaced, it was clearer. A room. A hospital room, I think. There were couches and a bed. My bed. I felt hands again... this time both my hands were being held, gently, as if I were made of glass. And then—blackness again.
But when I came to again, I could fully open my eyes. For the first time, I was truly awake. Two people were asleep beside me, one on either side of the bed. I couldn’t make out their faces, but they were each holding a hand, their heads bowed in rest. And even though I didn’t know who they were, their presence filled me with something warm. Something close to love.
I stayed longer that time, longer than before. But eventually, the blackness took me again.
Then finally, I woke up for real.
I knew where I was. A hospital. Machines softly beeping around me. My body felt heavy, but I could feel everything now. I turned my head slowly and saw him, my father. Sitting in the corner, speaking into his phone. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I tried to talk. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
And then someone else walked into the room.
A man. He looked familiar… and yet I couldn’t name him. But I knew I knew him.
I stayed quiet, watching them both. Neither of them noticed I was awake. My mind stayed alert this time, no drifting, no fading. But eventually, even that clarity wore thin, and I slipped under once more.
The next time I woke up, it was morning.
The two men were still beside me, still holding my hands.
I looked again and, from my father's expression, I finally saw it clearly. One of them was my dad.
I focused all my strength.
“…Dad…” I whispered.
His head snapped up like a jolt had hit him. His eyes were wide, disbelieving.
“Sarah?” he choked, tears already falling. “You’re awake?”
I nodded, just barely. “I…Dad...” I managed to choke out.
He cried harder. “You’re awake… You recognise me.” He kissed my hand, my forehead. “You’re alive…”
I tried to laugh, but my throat was dry. “.... drink?... Water?”
“Yes, of course!” he said, leaping up to grab a cup.
The man beside me now fully alert stood, fumbling for his phone. “We should call the doctor. I’ll get him.”
My dad helped me sip water, drop by drop, carefully, gently, like I might break.
“You’re alive,” he whispered again. “You’re here.”
“Yes. I’m here.”
“I’m so happy,” he said, his voice cracking as he kissed my hand again, and then my forehead. He held me close, though I could barely lift my arms to hug him back. He stayed there until the doctor walked in.
“I’d like a few minutes with the patient,” the doctor said gently.
My dad stood his ground. “I’m not leaving this room.”
“Sir...”
“I’m her father. I bathed her since she was a child. I’m not afraid of anything. If you’re going to check on her, then check on her. I’m not leaving.”
The doctor turned towards the other man. Is that—?
But before I could finish my thoughts, the doctor said,
"You're not leaving either, I'm guessing."
The man nodded.
"I'm her husband," he said. "I'm not leaving either."
My father narrowed his eyes at him as they both moved away from the bed, but still silently watching.
The doctor came closer to me as I lay there, still trying to gather my strength. His eyes were kind but focused, filled with the seriousness of his task. He leaned in slightly.
“I’m going to check your eyes, Sarah,” he said gently. “If you can hear me, try to stay still.”
He pulled a small flashlight from the pocket of his coat and shined it into my eyes. The light was sharp. My pupils flinched, reacting. He moved the beam slowly from side to side.
“Good,” he murmured. “Your pupils are responding. Can you follow the light?”
I blinked slowly and tried my best to follow. My eyes moved, sluggish but willing. He nodded with quiet satisfaction.
“Tracking is a little slow, but that’s expected.”
He brought his hand near mine.
“Can you try to squeeze my hand?”
I focused hard. My fingers barely twitched. Still, he smiled.
“Very good.”
He straightened slightly and met my gaze.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions now, okay? Just blink once for yes, twice for no.”
I blinked once.
“Do you know your name?”
Blink.
“Do you know where you are?”
I hesitated. Two blinks.
“That’s alright. You’re in a hospital. You’ve been here for a while.”
I could hear the rustle of someone shifting in a chair behind him. My father. I could feel his presence. The other man too. My husband. That word echoed in my mind.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Two blinks.
“That’s also okay,” he said, reassuringly. “Memory can take time. The important thing is, you're awake, and your brain is responding well.”
He turned to the men by my bedside.
“She’s aware. That’s a very good sign. After almost five months, this is… very promising.”
My father let out a trembling breath, wiping at his eyes.
“Will she be able to talk?” he asked.
“She may try a few words soon,” the doctor replied. “Her throat will be dry. Her vocal cords haven’t been used in a long time. She’ll need water, patience, and rest.”
My dad and the man nodded in unison.
The doctor looked back at me.
“You’re doing great, Sarah. We’ll run a few scans later, but for now, just rest. You’re safe. You’re surrounded by people who love you. ”
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