When I woke up all I could see was white. I squinted my eyes so that they could adjust. Soon the shape of a lamp was over my head, and I looked down on my face and I saw one of those breathing masks. I reached up, and tried pulling it off.
“Let me help you with that,” I heard a voice say. Two hands appeared and they undid the breathing mask. I turned my head over to see who it was. She had long brown hair that was tied in a fishtail braid. It casually rested on her left shoulder. Her face mask covered her mouth and nose, and her eyes were a green colour that hid behind rectangular windows. She turned in the chair she was sitting in towards a panel that had a number of buttons on it. She pressed one, which lifted up the back of the bed, then held it until I was sitting in an upright position. She slid her face mask down so I could see who she was.
“How are you feeling?” He voice was soft and very calm.
“Are you Monica Winfrey’s mom?” I asked. She smiled a little and nodded. “You look a lot alike,”
“Well she is my daughter,” She said with a laugh. I smiled at this. I then remember my face hitting the pavement. I reached my hand and touched below my right eye. I felt a bandage. My eyebrows rose, and I looked at Monica’s mother with a confused expression.
“That was a nasty fight you and the Trudeau girl got into,” She said standing up. There were a set of cupboards on the wall, and she opened one and brought out a little blue bowl with some kind of ointment.
“The skin on your cheek is damaged quite a bit. While you were unconscious, we put in stitches.” She poured some of the ointment into the bowl. She then reached out to my face and started to take off the bandage. Once it was off she observed it.
“Looks a lot better,” I felt a little reassured when she said this, “You also ripped your jeans, and you skid your knees, but that’s not as important.” She took a little white pad that one would normally use for applying foundation make-up, and dipped it into the little bowl. Monica’s mom started to softly pat where the bandage was. She started at the bottom and slowly made her way to the top. I felt it sting a little bit and I winced.
“I’m just cleaning the wound, and this should help it heal a bit too.” She continued, “And I’ll also send some home with you."
Once she was finally finished, she started putting things away.
“Do you think I’m going to be in trouble?” I asked. In response, she threw her head back in laughter as if it was a joke. She then left the room.