Myles (Completed)

35: Israel

Monet DaSilva

"Everything looks great, honestly it could've been so much worse. I'm just going to give you a prescription for the pain from your bruising and your sprained ankle; please remember to keep it elevated for the next for weeks, ice it on and off as well as try your best to stay off of it alright?" I nodded, listening to her instructions. "I'm also going to throw in some prenatal vitamins for that baby that's growing beautifully. Just try your best not to do too much stressing, it isn't good for the baby." The nurse smiled, rubbing my stomach. "With that being said you can go ahead and get yourself ready to be discharged. Alright?" the lady smiled at me once more before stepping out of my room.

My father let out a sigh of relief, "and that is why a pregnant woman shouldn't be at the club."

"Not right now, dad." I shot back at him, swinging my legs over the side of my bed.

"Monet. I know you're sad about spraining your ankle but look you could've lost your life and the baby at that."

"Track is my life dad!" I shook my head, "you just wouldn't understand."

"Of course, I once loved basketball as much as you love to run but my love for it never surpassed my love for life. Monet, you being alive today is a blessing. I keep telling you, on my way into this room last night; I passed so many crying parents and families, I could've been here doing the same. I'd take one little sprain over you being gone, any day."

"Once again, I say; you don't understand. Please, pass me my clothes." I outstretched my hand for the overnight bag he had packed and brought back earlier today. My dad scoffed, before placing the bag next to me on the bed. "Privacy." I added, opening the bag to pull out a tracksuit and some undergarments.

I waited for my dad to leave and shut the door, once I was alone; I held my head down and I shut my eyes. Allowing the images from last night continuously play over and over and over again. Normally my memories would be blurred or broken into bits and pieces; but these; were the most vivid images I had ever seen. I saw everything, heard everything and felt... everything. Every stomp, every kick, every body that fell on top of mine. Every time I remembered this however, the last thing I remembered were those brown eyes and soft lips that told me, everything was going to be alright. That was my last memory; him. I had so many questions for him, I wanted to know where he came from, why he chose to save me out of all people and most importantly; if he knew all of this was going to happen.

"Ugh!" I opened my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck. Although I know everyone was telling me it could've been so much worse; they didn't truly understand that this sprain was a setback in my career. I was just starting to live my dream and as if this pregnancy wasn't bad enough, I was now sentenced to 4-week bedrest when I should be on the track, training my ass off.

I swear, just when things were starting to look good for me, something always had to ruin it for me.

I angrily worked my body out of the hospital gown and into the clothes my dad brought me. Using the crutches provided, I took a spin on them and walked myself to the bathroom. I flipped on the light and the image was so heart breaking; the scars, bruising and swelling. As I touched them; I heard the echoing of gunshots. That nearly caused me to jump.

I clutched my chest and tried to calm down my breathing. "It's all in your head... Monet," I coached myself before washing my face and shutting off the lights.

As I walked back into the bedroom, my dad knocked and poked his head into the room with his eyes shut. "May I come in?"

"Yeah. I'm done. I'm ready to go home."