TITLE: A Silence Grave and Hollow
GENRE: YA Thriller
Clara Saudade is dead. I know this without a doubt. Three days ago I buried her body.
Now I sit surrounded by doctors and nurses. Faceless blobs of blue and green that tell me I’m lucky to be alive, that it’s a miracle I've even survived. Scratching at the IV needle protruding from the back of my hand, I resist the urge to rip it out, toss it to the floor, and scream until I'm hoarse. I don’t feel very lucky. I feel hollow, purposeless. More than that though, for the first time in my life I feel alone.
In the distance a steel tray is dropped, a metal clang on tile floor, the squeak of a rubber sole as someone stops to clean up the mess. Bleach and decay pervade the air, like rotted meat that's been cleaned from the counter and tossed in the trash, where it festers further. In a corner of the room, the flat white paint is cracked and peeling, tumbling like unspooled ribbon towards the floor. On one side of my bed a monitor beeps steadily, like the ticking of a clock, the beating of my heart. On the other, a man stands awash in fluorescent lighting, his skin a sickly white. He’s the only one who doesn’t seem to think my survival is miraculous, this man in the pressed but faded suit and scuffed leather shoes. His hooded eyes droop at the edges, pulling down towards an unsmiling mouth, eyelids stained the reddish-purple of a fresh bruise or a rough kiss.