Three

Kamille

I woke up feeling nauseous.

My entire head seemed to be spinning, while a splitting headache travelled from ear to ear.

I let out a groan and turned to the side, bile filling my stomach. There was an incessant beeping noise somewhere above me, making my disoriention even worse.

“Miss? Can you hear the sound of my voice?”

The nausea subsided after a few deep breaths. I dragged myself back to my previous position, only to realize that my entire back ached liked I'd been laying on it for far too long. My eyelids felt so no heavy, it by took thrice to the effort to crack them open into a squint.

A bright light hit me immediately. I winced.

“She's responding to the light. Good.” A womanly voice said, “Get the doctor, she might want to speak directly to him.”

I finally opened my eyes wide enough to take in my surroundings. It was white, sterile. A hospital room. I was on the bed, with my arm spread out on the mattress, with different tubes attached to it. There were two nurses in the room, asking me questions I wasn't listening to.

I tried to remember how I even got here, and instantly the memories burned a path straight into my skull.

The failed brakes. The speeding truck. The panic. The crash.

My baby.

Gasping, I scrambled into a sitting position with my hands holding my belly. “My baby…please… please tell me my baby is alright…!”

“Please, take it easy, ma'am, you're still very fragile….”

A hand was at my shoulders, trying to lean me back. “No sudden movements, please, you still need a lot of that saline drip.”

My heart was racing so hard, because this baby was all I had left that was precious in this world. I looked up at both middle-aged nurses, desperately asking them, “My baby? My baby?”

“Your pregnancy is completely fine, ma'am. Your belly was cushioned by the airbag during the collision. Do you remember this accident, Miss Kamille? I saw the name in one of your belongings, that's your name, I assume?”

I nodded, crumbling back in utter relief that my little fetus was safe and healthy. My pregnancy was still at a very early stage, but it was equally fragile. Honestly, facing all the trauma and stress I did, a lot of pregnancies could have been miscarried. Not to top it off with a ghastly accident.

“The doctor will answer any questions you might have,” The nurse said, passing a jotting board to the next nurse. “I'll take your vitals now.”

As if on cue, the door opened and an elderly man in a white coat stepped in. He took one look at me and cracked a warm smile.

“Ah, you're awake. I'm glad. How are her vitals looking?”

“Good so far, doc.”

He nodded, stepping closer, “You have been slipping in and out of consciousness for the past few weeks, Miss Kamille. I'm glad you and the baby are perfectly fine and healthy. It was a good thing that a good Samaritan rescued you from the site of the crash and brought you here.”

I blinked at him in a stupor. “Weeks? It's been weeks?”

“Yes, and you still need a couple more weeks to be fully recovered. Thankfully you didn't break any bones. Just tissue damage and internal bleeding that was easily fixable.” He said calmly, “If you feel any pain, please make sure to inform the nurses.”

I could not believe him. That I had spent weeks at this strange hospital, wrecked and unconscious.

“This person who helped me… I have to thank them.” I finally uttered. “The situation might be different if not for their kindness.”

The doctor tilted his head regretfully, “Well you see, this good samaritan did not wait long after dropping you off. They generously paid all the hospital bills, and retrieved your belongings from the wreckage. And I'm under obligation to not give away anything about them if that's their wish.”

“What?” I frowned. “The least I can do is show my gratitude somehow.”

“I don't think that's necessary. You're alive and healthy, and that's all that matters.” The doctor responded. “A checkbook was left for you, with enough money for you to find your way once you get discharged.”

A checkbook? Why would a complete stranger do that? I was so surprised and confused by all of this, that I remained in a daze until the doctor and the nurses were done and made to leave the room.

“Oh, and one more thing, Miss.”

I looked up.

A soft smile crossed his face. “You are not expecting just one baby. The internal scan we did on you showed the beginnings of multiple growing cell clumps. It's so early to tell if they're twins or triplets, but it is certain that your pregnancy isn't carrying just one child.”

My palms moved to my belly, “Really?”

It sounded so beautiful, but scary all at once. If not for my anonymous helper, how could I have hoped to take care of even just one child?

“Please have some rest. The nurses will return with some food.”

He left the room.

The TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed was on mute, displaying some random show. I grabbed the remote by my bedside and raised the volume. I flipped through the channels mindlessly, until my eyes caught on the name “Manor” on the news headlines.

I froze, reading the headline.

THE MANORS CONFIRM DEATH OF ANOTHER FAMILY MEMBER IN CAR CRASH.

There was a picture of an ugly wreckage, and in the middle of it was my precious white Jeep. It was unrecognizable, a warped mix of burnt leather and metal. My entire body chilled at the thought that I had survived such a crash.

The picture flipped to a scene, where police and a few reporters had surrounded the crash site. There, Father and Mother stood staring at the camera with sorrowful faces.

“How could I lose my precious child so soon after burying my mother?” Father lamented to the reporter interviewing him. “This are hard times for the Manor family, and coping with this loss, will very difficult.”

Wait.

I sat up straighter, staring at the screen. Did they just confirm my death?! How was that even possible if they did not find a body?

Father and Mother were going on and on, showcasing grief that they did not feel, while I grappled with the extent they were going just to get rid of me. My brakes had failed. Now that I think of it, my Jeep, was in peak condition even if I barely used it.

How could the brakes have suddenly failed? And why did they so hurriedly announce me dead?

I thought I had felt heartbreak before. But now, my heart was in shred, pulsing with red hot pain. Wounds that nothing could heal, but vengeance.

My fingers tightened around the remote. I would remain dead, just like they want. But I would return when the time was right, and serve them the evil they have dished out to me. That was another vow, signed with blood and tears.

*

A month later.

I was rejected again.

I let out a sigh and slumped down onto the singular couch in the middle of my entire apartment. It still smelled of fresh paint, and each sound echoed. After all, after getting discharged from the hospital, I left London.

There was point staying there if I was supposed to be dead. My anonymous helper had saved all my belongings, including my travel documents, and the huge amount of money accessible by the checkbook got me one a one-way flight to the US, and enough cash to rent a new apartment.

I was furnishing it slowly, while also preparing for my pregnancy, and trying to get back into the workforce. No decent weather forecast station would take me. All I was met with were rejections.

I grabbed my new phone and went through the old weather forecast articles I had created. It was gaining a lot of engagement, and the viewers were asking for more.

It was then, that it occurred to me.

I didn't need to be employed by anyone. I could put all of my strength into creating these content on my own, and that would also be less stressful once my pregnancy nears full-term.