....Trevor pov.....
The rhythmic sound of the electrocardiogram filled the air, accompanied by the slow hum of the defibrillator. The odor of antiseptic and various medications mixed together, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. My mind, still foggy from whatever had taken place, struggled to piece together the details. A faint beeping from the machines seemed to keep time with the rising panic in my chest.
The bright white room of the hospital ward was sterile, almost eerily so, filled with an array of medical equipment and machines that surrounded me like silent sentinels. It felt surreal, as though I had been plucked from reality and deposited here in this cold, clinical space.
A body lay on the white hospital bed...my body. Wires snaked from my chest and abdomen, connecting me to various devices that monitored my vitals.
This was Trevor. It was me....
"Groan! Ahh!" A sound....my sound....escaped my lips as I reluctantly woke up, adjusting to the bright, fluorescent light that flooded the room. My blurry vision began to clear, revealing the hospital setting around me. "Is this a hospital? Argh!" A sudden, intense pain shot through my head, as if it had been pounded repeatedly with a hammer. "God, that hurts." The pain was overwhelming, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it would subside.
Slowly, I managed to lift my upper body higher, off the thin hospital pillows, trying desperately to recall what had happened. Flickering images darted through my mind: a phone call, curiosity overwhelming me, and an excitement to see my family. Then, darkness....the feeling of falling, of everything slipping away. "I think I hit my head pretty badly," I muttered to nobody, my voice hoarse and broken.
...
The emotions rushed back, and I felt a knot tightening in my throat. "Why them, huh? Life, why?" Tears threatened to spill over. "Why is it that every time something good is about to happen, it suddenly goes south?" My tears flowed freely now, each drop soaked in anguish. "That was supposed to be my day, the day I finally graduated and made them proud. But you freaking ruined it, didn't you?!" The room felt heavy with silence, only broken by the intermittent beeping of the machines.
*Sob, sob...* "Mum! Dad! Elder bro! You took all my family from me! Everything I held dear, you took!" Another wave of tears cascaded down my cheeks, mixing with the despair that filled the space around me.
Suddenly, I heard a random voice nearby, unintentionally pulling me out of my mournful thoughts. "Did you hear about the guy in ward six?"
"Yeah, I did. Can you believe that? Did he really kill his family for money?" a mature voice replied, skepticism lacing their tone.
"Maybe because they were loaded. They brought him in a Rolls-Royce. Can you believe that?!" The statement hung in the air, like a dark cloud looming over me. "If it were me, I could do it."
"Bitch, all you think about is money all day. Money this, money that. Come on, don't you have a man? You all don't get freaky?" The laughter that followed seemed so out of place, jarring against my pain.
"Come on, drop that sh*t, girl. Ain't gonna eat, wear, or drive no love. I need money!! Hahaha…"
Their chatter echoed down the corridor and faded into the background, leaving me in a suffocating silence. My heart raced as the implications of their words sank in. "...Were they talking about me?" I thought, my stomach twisting. Tears still clung to my face as I gripped the hospital sheets tightly, fighting the sentiment. "How could they think that?! How could I kill my own family for money?" I bellowed, my voice reverberating across the ward, heavy with desperation and confusion.
"How…" my voice trailed off, feeling the weight of anguish and anger consuming me from the inside.
"...Yes, sir, right this way," another voice said, accompanied by the sound of multiple footsteps approaching.
Swing!
The door to the ward swung open, and a multitude of faces appeared. My grandparents, a senior doctor, and my uncle with his wife, Miranda, spilled into the room, their expression unreadable.
"This is your grandson, Mr. Wiston. As you can see, we have been taking good care of him during the three days he was in a coma," the senior doctor said, his voice tinged with experience and authority. His beard trembled slightly as he spoke, his aging face flushing from continuous talking. "His blood pressure and vitals are normal and stable, so his health is assured."
"Three days?" A whirlwind of emotions spiraled through me at the revelation. No wonder I felt like an old relic just dug up after ages.
"Thank you for your care, doctor, and please extend my thanks to the hospital. Er... can you give us a minute? We need to talk to Trevor" my grandfather said to the doctor, turning to me mid-sentence with a piercing look that felt like daggers to my heart.
Taken aback, I wondered what could have warranted his tone, but I shrugged it off as an old man's mood swing.
"Sure, Mr. Wiston," the doctor replied, bowing his head as he excused himself, shutting the door behind him.
...
The silence was thick and oppressive, pressing down on my chest. My uncle was looking around the ward and its equipment as if he had never seen medical gear before, a child in a foreign land. My aunt, on the other hand, seemed disinterested in my condition, busying herself with checking her nails and occasionally swiping her hair back over her shoulders as if everything about me was beneath her concerns.
My grandfather continued to stare intensely at me, his gaze burning into my skin, while my grandmother held his right hand tightly, gazing at me with a conflicted expression....half fear, half disbelief.
"Cough!" The sound echoed in the room, a pitiful attempt to break the tension.
"Er… good morning, Ma and Pa. I hope you are doing okay," I managed to whisper, the tremor in my voice revealing my own vulnerability. "Thank you for checking on me with Uncle and Aunty," I added, but my aunt merely rolled her eyes before turning away, dismissing me with an elegance that felt cruelly out of place in this moment.
My uncle remained undisturbed, as if the room were an art exhibit, but my grandfather.....
He erupted!
Pointing directly at me, he roared, "You imbecile! How could you do such an evil thing as to plot your own family's death?! Huh? For a thing as trivial as inheritance? How could you?"
Each accusation hit me like a physical blow. My chest tightened, feeling the pain bore deeper than any physical injury could. My head swam; this couldn't be happening.
"I knew you were a jinx from day one. I should not have allowed them to have you; you are bad luck!" His voice rose, filled with venomous disdain, and I felt more and more like a shadow of the person I once was.
"Grandpa, please. I didn't do it!" I pleaded, my heart pounding in my ears. "You have to believe me!" Hot tears streamed down my face, not just from sadness but also from the feeling of betrayal, of being twisted into something I wasn't. "I didn't do it! They called me that morning to say something came up....something urgent....and that they would fly over at night! I was just waking up when… when it happened!"
"Grandpa, please believe me! Grandma, help me! I didn't do it! Please, I am as heartbroken as you are!"
The room was silent, a thick fog of hurt swirling around us. My grandparents, speechless, shared unspoken agony. With my grandparents drawn tight, I could almost feel the weight of their accusations pressing down on my shoulders. The very air seemed heavy with the unyielding belief in my guilt.
"But it was an accident! They've told me about engine failures. No one could do anything! It wasn't my fault!" My voice quaked, each word soaked in desperation.
Yet, their stony expressions pierced through any shred of hope I clung to.This isn't how it's supposed to be. This thought echoed endlessly in my mind. The day meant to be triumphant had turned into my worst nightmare, transforming me from celebrant to suspect in the blink of an eye.
"Help me," I whispered, the plea barely escaping my lips, swallowed by the all-consuming silence as despair washed over me anew. The questions hung in the air, unanswered, forming somber confirmations of guilt yet unproven: what really happened that day? Who could I turn to, when even my closest family was turning against me?
In that moment, I grappled not only with despair but with the bitter sting of betrayal from the very people I had loved most. My world slipped farther away, distorting into chaos as I tried to fathom how everything had gone so tragically wrong. With everything fleeting out of my control, I felt a singular dread: the notion that I might truly be lost....for good.