Tests on tests.
That was all it became for days.
Hands pressing against my ribs. A light in my eyes. Fingers squeezing mine, releasing, and squeezing again.
"Vitals are stable."
"Blood pressure's good."
"Any dizziness?"
I nodded.
Then shook my head.
Then froze, unsure which answer was right.
None of them answered the only question screaming in my head.
What happened to my life?
I watched the ceiling tiles pass above me as they wheeled me from one room to another.
Mom stayed beside me the whole time.
She answered questions, signed papers, thanked nurses, and smiled when she was supposed to. Her hand never left my arm, like if she did, I might leave her again.
But she didn't never mentioned Dad or Ethan's name.
Not even once.
By afternoon, they told me I could go home.
They helped me into clothes that didn't feel like mine anymore. My body felt thinner and slower, like it had forgotten how to belong to me.
A nurse explained medications. Another explained follow-ups. Someone handed my mom a bag that clinked softly when she moved it.
I watched her nod through all of it.
When we finally stepped outside, the air felt right.
Mom flagged a cab.
I slid into the back seat, nervously chewing the inside of my cheek.
The car started moving.
At first, I didn't notice anything.
The streets were… off.
Stores I remembered were gone.
I leaned forward slightly, my heart started to beat faster.
This wasn't the way home.
I swallowed hard and looked at my mom through the rearview mirror.
She stared straight ahead.
The buildings grew smaller. Paint peeled off walls like it had given up trying. Trash sat in piles near overflowing bins.
A group of men lingered in a corner, were smoking and laughing.
My chest tightened.
This wasn't just a different route.
This was a different world.
The cab slowed.
Then stopped.
I looked out the window.
And my stomach dropped.
This was the part of the city people warned you about. The part you hurried through. The part where streetlights flickered and doors stayed locked.
"This isn't home." I tried to say, but nothing came out.
Mom paid the driver quickly.
"We're here," she said softly.
Here?!
The building was small, with stained walls and a staircase that looked like it might collapse if you walked too fast.
I followed her inside.
The hallway smelled like smoke and something sour. The lights buzzed overhead. Someone laughed loudly behind a closed door.
Mom unlocked the door.
The apartment was worse.
It was dim.
The ceiling had a long crack running through it, darkened by water stains. A slow drip fell from the crack, landing into a plastic bucket placed beneath it...like the apartment itself was quietly crying. One of the windows was taped up. The couch sagged in the middle.
And the table..
My breath caught.
Pills?!!
Little white tablets was scattered on the table. An open bottle tipped on its side.
Cigarette butts and a lighter were scattered around the window.
I stared at them, as my chest tightened.
Were these… hers?
I looked at my mom.
She froze.
Then moved too fast.
"Oh..." she said quickly, bending down. "I didn't….I meant to clean that up."
Her hands shook as she gathered the pills, scooping them into her palm like they were something shameful. She avoided my eyes, stuffing the bottle into her bag.
"I've just been stressed," she added quickly. "It's nothing."
Nothing?
I watched her crush the cigarette, as her fingers kept trembling. She looked unstable.
This couldn't be real.
This couldn't be my mom.
Mom was never this disorganized.
Mom set her bag down slowly and turned to me.
"I cleaned as much as I could," she said quietly. "The building isn't… great. But it's what we could afford."
I stared at her.
Four months without me, and this was where she ended up.
"It's been really hard, Eve," she whispered. "These past months… I didn't know if I was going to make it."
She stepped closer, pulling me into her arms.
"You're all I have left," she sniffled. "And I'm so glad you're alive."
My body shook against hers.
I wanted to ask.
Where's Dad?
Where's Ethan?
Why are there pills on the floor?
But my mouth stayed useless.
Mom led me down a narrow hallway barely wide enough for both of us.
"This is your room," she said gently.
It was more like a carved-out corner of the apartment.
A single bed pressed against the wall.
A small dresser with one crooked drawer.
No door…..just a thin curtain hanging from a rod, swaying slightly when someone walked past.
But the bed was made neatly.
The pillow fluffed like she'd done it over and over until it looked right.
"I cleaned it every morning," she said quickly, smoothing the blanket again. "Thought… thought you'd like it."
I nodded.
My throat burned.
She handed me my phone. It felt heavier than I remembered.
"I repaired it," she added. "I'll make breakfast, okay? Just rest."
She smiled, then turned and walked away.
The apartment went quiet.
I sat on the edge of the bed, scanning the room like it might change if I blinked.
I lay back slowly, staring up at the cracked ceiling, my heart kept beating too fast for such a small space.
This can't be real.
Then I heard mom voice. She was talking softly to someone on the phone.
"I brought her home," Mom whispered.
My stomach tightened.
I held my breath.
"She's… she's awake. She doesn't remember much. She's mute too..doctor said it's temporary."
There was another pause.
Then her voice cracked.
"I swear," she said, almost pleading. "I swear I'm clean. I am. I haven't….I promise."
Clean?
I backed away from the door slowly.
Clean from what?
The pills?
The cigarettes?
She kept humming.
The kind of humming people do when they're trying not to fall apart.
Then her voice dropped again.
"I wouldn't do that. Not with her here."
My legs felt weak as I sank back onto the bed.
Who was she talking to?
Why did she sound scared?
I curled onto my side, pulling my knees to my chest.
This was a different life.
I might've survived the crash.
But whatever happened after…
It didn't spare my mom.
And suddenly, the most terrifying thought of all settled deep in my chest:
What else happened while I was asleep?