Revelations Read Online Free PDF

I found helpful, which is to say I took in pretty much nothing. Each was interested in their own predicament. To that I say, I don’t blame them. The accident that wasn’t really an accident was nowhere in anyone’s head. Except….
    Outside the door to my room two men stood chatting, one young and one older. The younger man was my own personal doctor. He went by the name of Michael Daniels. The older man was a visiting physician by the name of Thomas More, almost like the author. Doctor More was being told about the patient in 303, the girl with the utterly miraculous recovery, if only she would wake up.
    From Doctor Daniels’s mind, I discovered my head had been smashed in like a melon, crushing my skull and damaging my frontal lobe. This all healed perfectly. My right arm broke in four places below the elbow, seemingly from using it to brace myself against the impact. My right ankle shattered, same as my jaw on the right side. Broken ribs, fractured collar bone. Battered and bruised and lacerated, I’d been brought into the ER screaming at the top of my lungs, which I remember none of. Everything healed eventually. Doctor Daniels had been the attending physician at the time of the accident that wasn’t and had induced coma, which I had been stuck in for the last three years.
    THREE YEARS!
    Those two words exploded in my head, and I closed my eyes, feeling hot tears creep from beneath my eyelids. My hands clenched into fists. I gripped the bed sheets beneath my palms. A sound escaped my lips. It might have been a groan, or maybe a sob. I’m not sure. Whatever it was, it was heard.
    Doctor Daniels was the first into the room, followed by the visiting doc. My heart was beating so rapidly in my chest I thought it would burst. The young doc put his hand down on my clenching right hand. I could feel his gentle touch. I could feel his desire to do right and to help. There was no helping me and no calming my heart.
    On the surface of this young man’s mind lay the facts that I’d been alone in the car when it struck the pickup and without identification.
    I’d been alone.
    It was a lie, and I knew it. Michael Daniels had no information whatsoever concerning my father. Terrified by this fact, I faced the doc. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
    “Where is he?” were the first hoarse words from my mouth in three long years.
    “What?” the doc asked.
    I realized I’d been whispering. My long unused vocal cords vibrated again. “Where is he?”
    “Who?”
    “My father,” I said through gritted teeth. I knew he had no idea of whom I spoke, but I felt the need to ask. I felt sick at heart as a thousand scenarios flew through my fully healed brain.
    Michael Daniels ignored my questions and said, “You’ve been comatose for over three years. You were brought here after a car accident. Do you remember?”
    “Yes,” I said quietly. “I remember. I also remember my father was driving.”
    “You were alone,” he said gently, his hand still resting on top of mine.
    I tightened my grip on the bed sheets and closed my eyes again in an attempt to squeeze back the flow of tears. Finally, I said, “I was not alone.”
    “You were,” the doc said again.
    I glared, unclenched my fists, and sat bolt upright in the bed. My hands flew out before me and wrapped around his throat. “Where is he?!” I hollered, finding my hands tightening around his neck, cutting off his air.
    To my great surprise, Michael Daniels simply brought his hands up to mine and pried my fingers off his throat. I didn’t have as much strength as I desired, for this was an easy task for the good doc.
    “Take it easy,” he said to me, pushing my arms back down to my sides then forcing me to lie back down. “Everything will be okay.”
    “No, it won’t,” I muttered. My hands went to my face, my chest hitching with a sob. I couldn’t fathom what happened to Christian. I probably didn’t want to know.
    Michael Daniels put a hand on my shoulder and