A C T  T W O

"What's the point of having a voice if you're gonna be silent in those moments you shouldn't be?"

-Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

THE SUN FELL FROM THE SKY UNCARINGLY. It seemed to do so all at once, lifeless and slow, similarly to Naomi Morgan herself as she was wheeled through the hallways of Riverside General Hospital. And just like the sun, Naomi left behind everything. The dusk of her hospital room contained crumpled pillows stained with her shattered dreams and a soaked floor where all her mournful musings spilt from her eyes and onto the crisp white tiles. So, it was fair to say that as she was now, folded into a creaking wheelchair, Naomi Morgan had nothing left; whether in her or of her. But nevertheless, the sun dipped an unapologetic farewell, the stars came out and Mr and Mrs Morgan exchanged whispers.

Naomi uttered nothing as she sat in the lobby area. Her parents engaged with Dr Gonzales as much as they could, probably to find out the cost of the quickest fix, but the conversation was long and unresolved. They didn't say much as they returned to her; she hadn't expected them to. She didn't need anyone to tell her that this was something she could not come back from. Mr Morgan's mouth adjusted itself as he took the reigns of Naomi's chair and pushed her toward the exit.

She wanted to tell him to let go but her jaw was locked shut and she couldn't quite squirm either because her spine was stiff as board. He was selfish for what he did to them, she knew, for disregarding all of them and lying and manipulating and faking and burning images into her head she could never throw away, in full print, colour and a bold time-stamp. Yet, she could not voice any of that. A whimper left her throat.

So it was that nothing had changed for the Morgan family as they quietly left the hospital building and quietly strolled into the parking lot. No one spoke or uttered condolences. William who was waiting by the car, leaning against the frame of their family SUV, was expressionless as well. He watched his sister's corpse park next to him in silence and exhaled with his shoulders as his parents readied the car.

They both were forced to watch the bustling Riverside traffic fake progress just beyond them where cars stayed still and streetlights flickered on. Naomi looked over at her brother. Her wheelchair had put them at the same height now. It was much easier to see his jaw work in his mouth and his eyes moisten. He was gripping the handle of her wheelchair too, all his features pointed and angled. William was usually quiet, but somehow this was different. As if he was quiet to keep something in rather than keep everyone out. The lights off the horizon bounced off his curly hair and as she looked at him, unwavering and unspoken, Naomi found herself wondering if her younger brother had just become a man before her very eyes.

The car came alive suddenly and Mr Morgan announced their departure. William and her mother helped guide Naomi into the back seat with as little discomfort as possible while Mr Morgan folded the wheelchair and packed it into the trunk. Once they had all gotten in, he reversed them out of the parking lot and then into the traffic.

Clouds slowly darkened into nothing as the sky changed. Naomi hadn't seen Jessica at all since the studio and she pondered if she only existed just to torture her then leave. Or maybe only to build her up before kicking the ladder away from under her feet. It was brutal how she came and left in the blink of an eye. In true Jessica Kingsley fashion. But it was impossible to think of Jessica without also thinking of The Riverside Dancing Academy, where Naomi Morgan did not have to be Naomi Morgan. In fact, she could leave Naomi Morgan at the doors of the dance studio and slip into skins of other sufferers. For hours, that was who she was and everyone loved that version of her. That person was tragic and beautiful.

But all that was gone, passed and sealed away into an air-tight coffin and lowered into the dirt. Hence, as Naomi Morgan sat but could not feel her feet nor her toes, nor any part of her for that matter, she saw it fitting to funeralise it all. She supposed she could eulogise her 'powerful' mantra, perhaps dedicate a song to the dancer she will never be again and cry over the coffin that held her untouched role as Giselle.

"This isn't the end," her mother said aloud. "Mr Carson understands your condition and I'm sure in his next ballet he'll give you the lead again. No questions asked." Naomi thought it better to not tell her mother that that's not how ballet or Mr Carson worked.

"Doctor Gonzales was telling us a lot about the fastest way to get you back on your feet. She says you'll be able to walk in no time since your ankle is only sprained. But he suggested a lot of sleep to mentally strengthen yourself," she assured quickly.

"Honey," Mr Morgan began, his voice strained like it would tear any second, "she's stressed. Give her some time."

"I know that," she snapped. "But we need a plan. This is something—." Naomi watched the two of them in the front seat go back and forth, waiting for either of them to include her, but they never did.

Maybe it was best that way. At least Naomi Morgan could remain undisturbed as the base of her head took refuge against the car window. She looked as God stripped time from her, mocking her as he made the sunset dance across the Riverside sky while she watched helplessly.

When it reached the final act and all the stars began to descend like curtains in a theatre, the Morgan family car came to a stop outside their home. Her parents got out first and walked around to the trunk. She caught bits of their newest argument where her mother urged to install ramps around the house as soon as possible.

"I don't care," William said suddenly next to her.

Naomi looked at him. No part of her could really move so she didn't bother to wipe her tear-stained cheeks with her hands. Outside, the siblings easily heard their father insist that ramps were unnecessary because Naomi only has the wheelchair for today, but inside, the car was muted and held only them.

Naomi cleared her dry throat to attempt to speak but William didn't let her. "Whether you ever dance again or not, I don't care," he clarified simply. "You're still my sister."

Something close to a smile tugged at her lips but never quite got there in time. The car door pulled open next to Naomi and the wheelchair rolled up. Mrs Morgan quickly helped her into it and shut the door, wheeling her around to the front of the house before stopping abruptly at the driveway. Naomi didn't turn around or strain to listen, there was clearly a hushed conversation taking place behind her. It lasted only a few seconds however, and afterwards, Naomi's wheelchair was moving forward again. This time, she could tell it was her father pushing her forward.

They stopped briefly at the front steps where he came to her side and lifted the wheelchair, carrying her up the few concrete steps. When inside, he paused. "Do you want to go to your room?" She nodded.

Only a second later, Mr Morgan was lifting her out of the cursed chair and into his arms, carrying her up the staircase. The sensation dropped Naomi's mind backward into a few years ago, to a time when she looked up to her father. When he carried her everywhere, either on his capable shoulders or in his guarding arms and back then, she really thought he was invincible. She supposed he still is.

Mr Morgan allowed his daughter onto her bed and stood over her in waiting. But Naomi Morgan would not be subject to whatever form of torture he was planning, so although her body was immobile her eyes were not. She looked into a far corner. Her father's nose flared. Painfully, he blinked and stepped away, making his way back to the door. Over his shoulder, he said, "You're still my baby girl. If there's anything that you need, I'm here okay?"

For a second, he did not move and Naomi thought the world had finally stopped spinning. She wished it wouldn't. "Naomi, I'm sorry." A tear, something she thought she'd run out of by now, slipped down her cheek. "I'm sorry," he repeated, this time the desperation was clear. Then, he left and shut the door behind him.

Not long after, night descended in Riverside and shrouded Naomi's room into complete darkness. A single slice of moonlight shot across her face. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak but she felt everything. It felt even more fitting to skip the whole funeral and cut straight to bawling at the graveside.

Author's Note
I'm back! And this time, with a Watty!!! Thanks to TheWattys for everything they're doing. I'm so humbled to have won and excited to share this win with you guys, my readers! ❤️❤️

Speaking of you guys, y'all know the drill. This week's dedication is without a doubt, @-CHIPSAHOY ily. Thank you for all your support and comments and everything! You're amazing and I really appreciate you!

With all that said, what did you guys think about this chapter? How we feeling about where Naomi is now? And more importantly, where do we think she'll go?

IN THE NEXT CHAPTER...

Therewas nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to speak to. Naomi Morgan was morealone than she ever thought she could beand she only had her empty room to entertain what was left of her...