Rihanna Carey

By Rihanna Carey  2018

She was unconscious when they took her. It was dark then. It was dark when she woke. She was in the back of the ambulance - but she didn’t know that.

She woke surrounded by white. A shrill, inhuman shriek repeated in her ear. She wished someone would stop it. She had tried to open her eyes, but the light was too blinding. It was a brilliant white, but unnatural. She tried to open them again now. Someone had shone a light into her eyes. It was too bright to be candlelight. So what was it? There was no sound. Besides the shrill shrieking, there was only silence.

Someone put their hand on her shoulder. She itched to shrink away, to cry out, but she could not. She became suddenly aware of the speed that they were traveling at. The room they were in was traveling. How was this possible? It was as if she was in a carriage at home on her way to or from a celebration. But she was not in a carriage, this was far too fast. And she was not at home, she would never be at home again.

The carriage-like thing came to a sudden stop. She cried out in pain as someone put a hand across her stomach. Pain. That was all she could think of now. Pain everywhere. Her back, her shoulder, her feet, her face, her stomach, her head. Oh, her head. Pain seemed to drip from her head to her toes. She let out a gasp of surprise as she felt herself being dragged from that hot white room and out into the chill, dark night. She felt herself begin to relax, feelings of tension slowly ebbing away from her spine and shoulders. She took a deep breath, but it seemed to catch in her throat. She tried again. Nothing. She tried again, faster and faster. Then a voice was shouting into her ear as she was being dragged from that cool place and back into the noise and blinding, brilliant white.

“She’s hyperventilating” the voice called. It was a woman, a woman with an unusual accent. “Get me an oxygen machine. She may have a punctured lung.” She wondered absentmindedly what oxygen was and what a machine was. The owner of the voice clapped her hands loudly right next to her already throbbing ear. She longed to clap a hand over it, but she couldn’t move. “Quickly!” the woman shouted again. She was on her back, she realised suddenly. She turned her head to the side and saw the brightest shade of blue imaginable. It looked so strange. It was such a bright colour. Her head pounded and her eyelids were heavy, but she wondered distractedly how the woman had managed to dye to her clothes such a colour.

Then the woman was gone and she was being pulled back again. Her head hit the hard, cold stretcher behind her, and everything faded into blackness again.