I literally vomit into my tea I am sipping. It swirls with green. Not like I care. I don't have to say a word to my mother, who takes me to him immediately. He is, I learn, in the ICU. They say he is in critical condition. I asked them, through tears, how he managed to get injured.
"Miss Winters, I am afraid he was found beneath a Ford," the doctor says, his eyes filled with concern for me. I was glad he cared, because I was sad and needed as much help as I could. My heart still ached. Underneath a truck?!I am glad he's alive. "He has broken...almost every thing, but the most damaged bones are his ribs. We are sad to say you can't go in there yet, but most likely next Monday his surgeries should be concluding and you may visit him. He will be here for a month or so before he is released."
"Okay. Th--thank you, sir," I say. I stare through the glass at Bruce, though I can't see him much, at his injuries. "Sir, do you have any idea how any of this happened? We were just at the beach, we fell asleep, and I woke up probably about fifty yards from where I was when I fell asleep."
"Miss Winters, I'm not the man to ask. The police are outside, if you'd like to know more. I must be off." And he walks into Bruce's room. The doorknob isn't twisting as much as my stomach is. My mother takes me out to the policemen, who are getting into their car. They see us and step out.
"Hello, sir. I'm Hailey Winters-"
"Are you the girl who was with Bruce during the accident?" asks the one with the bushy eyebrows and moustache to match.
"Well, you're probably here for info," said Mr. Moustache. "Well, what happened was this: apparently, Mister Spell decided that he was done being lost in the woods or something, and wandered off, we suppose, into the dark street and got run over by an unsuspecting driver in a truck without the headlights on. That driver saw it was a kid potion, I guess, and split, mostly because he knew the cops would come, and he had drugs in his pocket."
"So, how did he go missing in the first place?" I ask.
"Using his family's testimonies, he has a bit of a sleepwalking problem. He likes to move things around. I guess he moved you, and then wandered off."
"How do you explain this, then?" I point to my cast. "And these?" The scars on my arms were there to stay.
"There was reported sightings of bears in the area," he shrugs. "That's all we got, Buttercup. Sorry."
"Thank you, anyway." A blanket of disappointment covers my eyes in darkness. And it stays there for weeks.