"You said I had until the end of November." I say hoarsely.
"Well," Dr. Beard says, shuffling through some papers. "It really is the end of November."
I frown, unsure on what to say. "It's Saturday."
Dr. Beard looks at me strangely. "Yes."
"November... 30th." I say slowly. I've lost track of the days over the past week.
I frown. I raise my hand in an attempt to rub my forehead.
But I can't.
"Why can't I move my arms?" I struggle in the hospital bed. I can feel my body, feel every muscle twitch, twitch, twitching. "Why can-can't I move it-it doesn't h-hurt but I can't m-move."
"Well, we've injected medicine into your legs that stops the pain." The doctor says, still not looking at me. His eyes are glued to the papers. "Visiting hours start soon. You family will come and see you then."
And so I wait, watching to clock, willing it to turn to nine. Almost as soon as it does, the door creaks open, slowly.
"Is she asleep?" My mother whispers, poking her head in.
"The nurses didn't say anything." My stepfather's voice. "Maria?" He addresses me this time.
"Yeah?" I croak. "Hi."
"Maria?" The same word, different voice.
"Johnathan," I whisper.
"Maria," he repeats. He appears at my bedside, faster than I can blink. "Maria, are you okay?"
"No." I say softly. Why can't I move my hand move my hands. "No, I'm not."
My mother and stepfather take my other side. My mother holds my hand, and we sit like that for a while.