The answers most of you have been looking for.
BPOV
Fog crept across my brain, silently obscuring the people and things I wanted to be aware of while simultaneously blocking the horrific time I'd spent in that house. In some deep recess of my mind, I accepted it as merely a coping mechanism. I struggled to focus on my senses, concentrating first on the sounds around me. It seemed that oxygen and carbon dioxide warred with each other as my lungs rattled in my chest and the effort created a whistling in my eardrums. Shifting my concentration outside my own body, I could hear the muffled sound of beeping as my heart rate registered on some machine. A scraping noise to my left caused my head to involuntarily shift toward the sound.
"Bella?"
The voice should be familiar, but there were far too many layers of static between the sound waves and my synapses. I wanted to open my eyes, to squeeze the hand that I felt twitch in my palm. A gesture, brushing across my temple where hair was matted, felt poignantly familiar. I tried to speak, heard the gurgle that came forth instead.
"Don't talk, sweetheart. You have to rest."
Mother. Now the comforting voice came through, piercing the foggy haze. "Mommy," I croaked.
"It's me," she sobbed, causing the rhythm of my heart monitor to spike as I worried for her.
"Don't… cry," I murmured feebly.
I guess I made it worse, because her soft hair tickled my cheek as she laid her head on my shoulder and sobbed harder. I drifted back into a dreamless sleep, the kind of blackness where you have no idea how much time has elapsed.
Until someone touched my face, and the memories came rushing back harsh and relentless, eliciting a strangled scream from my throat as I bolted up in the bed, slugging the person that dared to lay a hand on me.
CPOV
I really felt for the nurse that was trying to check the laceration nearest Bella's eye when she sat up without warning, screaming and flailing her hands. The poor woman caught a fist in the chin as Bella's defense mechanism kicked in.
"Hey, Bella, it's Dad, calm down. You're safe, you're in the hospital," I soothed my child in the voice I had used countless times over the years.
Hands in defensive mode in front of her face, she turned blindly in my direction. "Daddy?" she whispered. In that moment, she was my baby daughter, small and scared and in need of protection.
"Open your eyes, baby, it's me," I soothed again.
The eyes that had been screwed shut slowly came open, crusty and bloodshot. Her injuries were swollen, angry and red around the dressings. The nurses had been coming in every few hours to check her vitals and sometimes her wounds. They had already been cleaned, stitched up, and covered. I was worried what Bella's state of mind would be when she was fully conscious, when she saw the injuries that bastard inflicted.
She looked at me, her gaze unfocused. "Daddy," she repeated, forlornly this time.
"Yeah. I've got you, baby girl."
"Don't let him touch me," she whispered, and my heart clenched in my chest. It was then that I realized that in her mind, she was still back at the house with that bastard.
"I won't. I'm right here, you just rest."
Her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell into a restless sleep. The nurse proceeded with her ministrations as Bella slept, carefully standing an arm's length away.
BPOV
The sharp smell of antiseptic hit my nose, followed by the cloying scent of flowers. Something tickled my face, and I batted it away, my movements feeble.
"Sorry," came the gruff voice. I sensed a shifting body and reached out. My fingers met with warm skin, and I clutched at the hand in mine.
"Edward," I whispered.
"Yes."
"Can I-" I stopped to run my thick tongue around a desiccated mouth. "Can I... get a drink?"
I was able to focus more as he moved to grab the plastic cup on the bedside table. The tilt-a-whirl was less dizzying than my brain was right now. I pulled the straw he offered me through my cracked lips, and winced at the soreness. I reached desperately for his hand again as he left my sight line.
"Has anyone told you?"
"Told me what?" My voice was a weakened impression of the strong tenor I normally had.
"You have pneumonia. You're heavily medicated, so if you feel drowsy, that's why." His emotions were running under the surface of his words, and he was scared to say it, to give credence to the fears.
"He didn't... rape me." I had to pause, both to catch my breath, and because it was difficult to admit what had actually happened. "I'm sure... you're all... wondering, since... that's his... M.O., after all."
"You don't have to do this," he assured me, but his conviction fell short, with the fear and guilt written all over his face.
"I know that," I replied softly. I reached for the cup and had more water. It burned going down a raw throat.
"Do you know that he's dead? Did anyone tell you?" The joy was trying to burst out of his mouth with that statement. It was over for Edward; nightmares had no place in his life anymore.
"Okay." I didn't honestly know what else to say. I was not full of glee that he was dead, that he'd gotten away that easily. I would rather have had the chance to put his balls in a vise and turn the crank myself. We were silent for a time, before he spoke sadly.
"It's my fault, all of this is my fault. If you can't stand to be in my presence, I'll go. I would understand."
"You don't get... to make this... about you," I answered his diatribe as sharply as I could.
"Jesus, I'm not trying to do that!" he shouted in a panic.
"Then shut up. I chose... to help you. I knew a dangerous criminal... was looking for me, and I'm... the idiot that left the office alone. I own that... You don't." My breathing came out in forced pants.
"I can't help feeling guilty," he muttered.
"Save it for your therapist," I snapped.
"I'm going to go, I'm just making you angry."
I looked right at him, staring into the green eyes I loved. I hated the pain I saw there, but I didn't have it in me to worry over him and myself.
"I don't want you to leave... I am angry, just not at you... I'm angry at myself, but mostly I'm angry at... Newton." It was harder to spit out his name than I thought it would be. "I know where to lay the blame, so if I sound pissed... it's because I don't have the energy to be nice."
I was gasping, air refusing to fill my lungs and give relief to the odd drowning feeling. My face hurt, my chest hurt, and tears were coursing down my face.
"Bella," he soothed, his hands gentle on my shoulders. "Shallow breaths, relax."
The door opened and a nurse came bustling in, with coffee colored skin and bright pink scrubs. "What can I do for you, honey?"
I looked to Edward.
"I'm the one that pushed the button. She can't breathe, and I don't know if she's in pain."
The nurse moved around the bed, replacing an oxygen mask over my face and adjusting the straps.
"Leave that on, honey. Stay calm and take deep breaths, that oxygen will make you feel better." She looked at the read out from my machine. "What is your pain level, on a scale of one to ten?"
My eyes closed as my breathing regulated. I mumbled something, but I didn't think she could hear me. I held up both hands, indicating the number seven. I drifted back to sleep as she moved around me, with Edward's hand clutched steadfastly in my own.
They've got so much healing to do, now, but I think they'll both surprise you.
Did you know I post teasers on Tuesdays? Here's the link to the group.
facebook.com/groups/1533457420295204/
Or you can always search my penname.
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