A young girl, named Phaedra, opened her bright green eyes. She looked up the ceiling of whatever room she was in and winced. The bright light from above invaded her eyes. Phaedra blinked repetitively and, somehow, the light didn't blind anymore.
"Phae [Fay]?" an fearfully familiar voice called.
Phaedra turned her head and made eye contact with a woman she hadn't expected on any level. "Aunt Harriet?" the America asked.
"Yes, my dear," Harriet greeted. She walked closer to her niece.
"What are you doing here?"
"Do you know where you are?"
Phaedra turned her head, looking at the walls. Her eyes wandered to the door where she spotted a nurse peaking in. The woman's eyes widened before she left the window. The brunette frowned, turning back to her aunt. "Why am I in a hospi-" She gasped as she remembered running into the semi. Her next thoughts flew to her twin. "Oh, my- Phillip! Where- where's Mom and Dad?" She sat up. "What happened to Jessica and Phillip?" she demanded. She began hyperventilating.
Harriet grabbed her shoulder to keep her steady and push her back down. "Lay down. I'll explain. There'll be a doctor in momentarily."
Phaedra surrendered and sat back. A tear ran down her face. "Phillip's dead, isn't he?" she asked evenly. She could feel the emptiness in the pit of her soul. She already felt herself getting lost in the pain.
"Yes," Harriet consented.
Phaedra let out a sob. Though she already knew, it still shattered her.
Harriet sat next to her niece and hugged her. It was an uncomfortable position, but that didn't matter. She eventually just laid next to the 10-year-old. Oh, God! She was only 10. The only family she had was Jessica who was still in a coma. A family had already adopted her and Phaedra had been transferred to England. Harriet refused to leave the child to the American foster system. "Brian and Alisa as well," she added. Might as well drop it all on her at once. Her doctor walked in and started with condolences and commenced giving her the down-low on her injuries.