Emma felt oddly hopeful.

She supposed the feeling was a bit misplaced. There was no guarantee she had this disease, this Sleepy Sickness her doctor called Encephalitis Lethargica. If the tests came back negative, she had nothing else. She would be trapped forever in this white room until Jake finally, if ever, convinced Mom to let her go.

She wanted to keep her hopes down just in case, but she couldn’t stop thinking of the possibilities. If she woke, what would the world be like? It had been at least five years since she fell asleep. Too many Halloweens and Christmases and Birthdays had passed for it to be any less. She would probably have to do physical therapy when—if she woke up. Matt often did basic stretches with her arms and legs on his visits, but muscle atrophy was a given regardless.

Emma thought it weird that she remembered these medical terms and not her age.

How old was I when I fell asleep?

Coma was the correct word, but Emma hated it. The term sounded cold and unforgiving. “Sleep” sounded much better. She thought back to the day she fell asleep on the couch downstairs and woke up in the formless white room. Jake had just turned eight; she remembered because they had a birthday party a few days earlier, decorated with Jake’s current obsession, Transformers. Balloons, cups, plates, napkins, and even wrapping paper were covered in those robots, and just about everything he got for his birthday was related to Transformers in some way. When he asked her to play with him after the party, she scoffed. I’m thirteen, Jake. I’m too old for kid toys.

She was thirteen when she fell asleep, when the world turned into nothing but background noise and an empty white room. So, if she had been asleep for at least five years, she was probably around eighteen now. That meant she had missed most of her teen years. She hadn’t been able to celebrate her sweet sixteen or graduate high school with her friends or go to Prom. She missed half her life, perhaps more.

I can’t think about that now. Speculation would get her nowhere.

She could hear Mom, pacing outside her bedroom. Jake was downstairs; Emma knew because Mom kept calling for him, asking when he thought the results would be in. He seemed to be washing the dishes. Emma could hear the clink of plates every once in a while. Just be patient, Jake kept replying, and Mom gave a noncommittal grunt in response. Emma understood her impatience. Still, her anxiety was palpable, and it made Emma feel antsy and restless. She wished she could chew on her fingernails or tap her fingers against something.

“They told me three days,” Mom said. “Three days, maximum, before the results came in. It’s already been two!”

Two days had passed since Matt had presented the idea of Encephalitis Lethargica. Two days since Emma felt her hope restored. For a moment, she thought she heard an increase on the heart monitor, a slight rising of her BPM, but Mom didn’t react. I must have imagined it. Her heart rate had been steady since she fell asleep; Matt would always comment on it. Sixty-five BPM again, huh? You never change, Emma. His voice always held a tinge of sadness when he said this. She wanted to ask why, but she could only listen.

For a moment, the white room wavered and faded out. Things had started to look more and more out-of-focus as the days went by, and it scared her.

“Mom.” Jake’s voice brought Emma back. He was upstairs now, closer to her room. “Just go sit down for a bit or something, okay? We’ll get the results soon. You have to be patient.”

“What about—?”

“I’ll watch Em for the time being. You need a break.”

Silence for a moment, and then, “Okay. Thanks, Jake.”

Mom’s footsteps receded downstairs. Emma wished Jake would talk to her more, maybe even come in and sit with her, but he never did. Maybe the tubes scared him. They’re just there to keep me fed and keep my lungs strong, Jake. It’s no big deal. If she said that to him, he would wrinkle his nose in that way he always did when he was annoyed. I’m not scared, Emma!

Jake was always a bit of a scaredy-cat. Emma would run into things headlong, and Jake would hang back, nervous and unsure. Then again, she did always get herself in trouble, like when she decided to inspect the hornet’s nest on the tree outside their house. That was her first trip to the hospital. So perhaps Jake’s caution was a good thing sometimes.

“Hey, Em.”

Shock sliced through her. Jake was close, right next to her bed. He had come into her room. The bed shifted, and she realized, even more surprised, that he had sat down next to her. A hand caressed her forehead. Emma wished she could open her eyes and smile.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Jake continued, “But know that this is it. All Mom’s hopes, all mine, are resting on this diagnosis. If you have this disease, they can treat it—or, they can treat the symptoms. That’s what Matt said. He also said it’s possible you could wake up. But if you don’t … if you don’t have this disease or the treatment doesn’t work, that’ll be the end. We’ll have to let you go. Mom knows it too, though she won’t admit it.” He pushed her hair back from her forehead. “I know you’re not happy like this, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of it even if you don’t wake up.” He stood. The bed creaked, and Emma missed the warmth of his presence immediately. “Though, after twenty-one years, I don’t know if you’d even want to wake up anymore.”

And everything in Emma stopped.

Twenty … one …?

The number burned itself into her mind, lit up in the emptiness until she couldn’t see anything else. If she had been asleep for twenty-one years, and she was thirteen when she fell asleep—Emma did the math.

She was thirty-four now.

She’d missed all of her teen years, her twenties. That was twenty-one years of her life gone, twenty-one years in which she should have loved, laughed, gone to college, made friends, made mistakes, gotten drunk, aced tests, lost her virginity, maybe even had kids. It was gone.

How has it been that long?

She tried to remember the year it was when she fell asleep. If she could remember her birth year—Oh, 1982. Yeah, because Jake was six years younger than her, and he was born in ’88. Add thirteen, and that got her 1995. So that was the year she fell asleep, and that meant it was now the year 2016. She’d missed the shift into a new century, multiple presidential elections, and huge improvements and progress made by the human race. She’d missed all her school years too, imbued only with the basics and a general idea of how the world worked. Jake was right; she wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up anymore.

The hope in her chest wavered, unsure now. She couldn’t drive, had no job experience or sense of direction, and no idea what to do with her life. She fell asleep so young; she hadn’t considered the future. The hope in her mind had always been a shaky thing, just on the verge of shattering. Dad always used to say she was too much of a realist.

Then again, that was if she even did wake. The results hadn’t come back yet. She could hear Mom pacing downstairs despite Jake’s admonishment, waiting for the hospital to call. Emma felt as if the results of those tests would change the way the universe expanded.

Downstairs, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

Mom’s voice floated up the stairs, distant and strained. Emma only had one side of the conversation, and the snippets were all unsubstantial. Minutes passed. Emma waited for an eternity. Jake was still in her bedroom—she could hear him over by the door, clearing his throat every once in a while. Then footsteps on the stairs heralded Mom’s arrival.

“Well?” Jake demanded. “Was that the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“What did they say?”

“It is.”

Jake heisted. “What? What is?”

“She has the disease, Jake. Encephalitis Lethargica.” Mom was talking too fast, her voice breathy. “They’ve only seen sporadic cases in the past few decades, but they said she tested positive. She … she has it.”

“So, they can treat it? She’s going to wake up?”

Mom crossed the room. Emma heard her steps, so different from Jake’s, so light and careful. Her voice was shaking and broken; it shattered across her words as she spoke. “Yes. She is coming home.”

“It’s called Levodopa,” said Dr. Lain. Her voice was smooth and strong, and Emma imagined her to have short hair and a stocky, muscular build. She said everything as if it was undeniable. In anyone else, this would have been an annoying trait, but it fit her. Emma doubted Dr. Lain would ever state anything as fact unless she was absolutely sure of its truth.

“Levodopa?” Mom echoed.

“It’s an antiparkinson medicine, and it has been used to treat previous cases of Encephalitis Lethargica since the symptoms are so similar. If this doesn’t produce a response, however, we will try Sinemet. That’s a mix of Levodopa and Carbidopa, so it’s a bit stronger. The Carbidopa helps steady the body’s response to the medication and ensure a longer lifespan.”

“Why not start out with the Sinemet, then?”

“It’s proven to have long-term side effects, so it’s generally only used if nothing else works. It’s more of a last resort, if you will.”

“How long will it take before we get a response?”

“It varies from case to case.” Dr. Lain must have messed with her IV, because Emma felt a dull sting in her right arm. “Once I hook the medicine up to her IV drip, it’ll take a few hours to fully cycle through her bloodstream. From there on, it shouldn’t take more than twelve hours at the absolute most. If we don’t get a response within that timeframe, we’ll switch to the Sinemet. Though …” she hesitated. “Mrs. Arrington, I know you already gave me your answer, but I think you should reconsider. It really would be best if we moved her to a hospital room where we could keep a closer eye on her.”

“Is it extremely necessary?”

“Not technically, but it is highly suggested—”

“Then no.”

“I know you’re struggling financially, but don’t you want the best for your daughter? The insurance will handle most of the bills.”

Mom didn’t reply. Emma continued to listen to the steady beep, beep of the heart monitor, ignoring the vague sensation of something touching her arm. Silence reigned. Emma heard Dr. Lain moving about to her right.

“All right, then. Everything’s set up.”

“So now we just wait?” Mom asked.

“Yes. I’ll send Matt over to keep tabs on her, and I’ll be on call the rest of the day. Let me know if anything changes, and I’ll be over ASAP.”

“Okay. Thank you, Doctor.”

Footsteps receded from the room. Emma knew Mom was still there, but she remained quiet. After a few moments, she left as well, and the room was again plunged into silence. Emma thought back to Dr. Lain’s comments on moving her to the hospital and Mom’s insistence against it.

The hospital bills are too much.

Emma’s mind drifted as time dragged on. She had existed in that empty room for so long that she was sure she would notice when something changed. After all, she noticed the recent blurriness right away. Surely she would notice if she started to wake up. But as the day passed and nothing changed, a part of her started to sink. The room was still unfocused, and nothing felt different. Maybe the doctors were wrong. People got false positives all the time; it was possible she didn’t have the Sleepy Sickness, and then the antiparkinson medicine wouldn’t work. It was possible this was all just a fever dream. Or maybe her original thought, that this was Hell, had been right.

What did I do to deserve this?

She forced herself to stop thinking about it, distraught with the endless possibilities, and held onto what little hope remained.

The day passed, slow. Emma drifted in and out of awareness. Matt was there now, but he was quiet. He would say something to himself every once in a while; it was always too quiet to hear, so Emma remained in her resting state. She supposed this drifting was the only thing that got her through twenty-one years of non-activity with her sanity intact. Then again, the blurriness of the white room could have been an indicator of her loosening grip on reality.

Mom came in a few times to ask how she was doing. “No change,” Matt would say, and Mom would sigh and leave. Sometimes, Jake came by and chatted with Matt. It was mostly things about their favorite bands and whatnot. They discussed their college majors, and shock hit Emma once more, pulling her from her drifting state.

If I’m thirty-four, how old is Jake?

Jake, her sweet younger brother. Jake, who pretended not to be afraid when he was, who loved Transformers and Lite-Brites, had been seven when she fell asleep. Now he was twenty-eight. Not only had Emma missed most of her life, she missed his too. She never got to tease him about girls or beam with pride when he graduated high school or college, she never got to hang out with him on Friday nights, watch movie and get pizza, or talk about all the things they’d never tell their parents. She had missed so much. Do I really want to wake up?

“When do you think something will happen?” Jake asked.

“Dr. Lain said we should wait twelve hours at the most, but if something’s going to happen, it should happen soon.”

“How soon?”

“I don’t know, Jake. A few hours, maybe.”

“It’s been three already.”

“I know.” Matt sighed. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s pacing in the kitchen again. I keep trying to get her to sit down and relax, but she hasn’t relaxed since the doctors started testing Emma for the Encepha-whatever.”

“Encephalitis Lethargica.”

“That’s a bit of a mouthful.”

“Some people just say EL.”

“That’s definitely easier. How do you think my sister got EL, then?”

“I don’t know. Doctors still can’t agree on what caused it. They originally thought it was connected to the Spanish Flu since it first showed up around the time of the epidemic in 1918, but they later discovered that none of the Spanish Flu’s RNA was present in the EL.”

“RNA?”

“Ribonuclelic acid. It’s what carries the genetic information of some viruses. Like DNA for diseases, you know? Anyway, when EL first showed up in 1918, it went largely unnoticed even though it was a large-scale epidemic because the Spanish Flu outnumbered its cases. I doubt that was the first time EL showed up, though; it probably existed long before and was just misdiagnosed.”

“But …” Jake sounded confused. “If they don’t know what caused the disease, then how can they treat it?”

“They treat it based on symptoms, which is why Emma was given an antiparkinson’s drug. A lot of the symptoms between EL and Parkinson’s are very similar.”

Something in Emma’s mind flashed. It was only for a moment, like someone snapping a picture right in front of her face, but it made her stomach clench. Is this it? She heard the usually-steady sound of the heart monitor speed up, and Matt gasped.

“What is it?” Jake asked. “What’s happening?”

“I … I don’t know. But I’ve never seen her BPM rise above sixty-eight.”

“It’s at seventy-three!”

Another flash. Emma wished she could turn away or shield her eyes; whatever the light was, it was too much. She tried to raise her arm.

“She just moved!”

“What?” Matt was right next to her now. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! Her fingers twitched!”

Matt was silent for a moment. Then, “Go get your mom. I’ll page Dr. Lain.”

Jake ran. Matt seemed to fiddle with something, rustling fabric as he moved, and then he put a hand on Emma’s forehead. His touch was warm and soft. “Emma?” he called, his voice as gentle as his touch. “Can you hear me? If you can, move something.”

Emma concentrated. The flashes were getting more frequent now, blocking out the whiteness of the empty room until all she knew was blinding light, but she could feel something there, something coming, and she focused on her hand and willed it to move.

“Oh my God,” Matt breathed.

“Matt!” Mom’s voice reached her, frantic and breathy. “What’s happening? Is she waking up?”

Emma wanted to speak. She wasn’t even sure if her voice would work after twenty-one years of disuse, but she had to try. Words formed in her mind. She attempted to push them through her lips, invigorated now. The white room was dissipating; all that remained were flashing lights in scintillating bursts.

“Mnnn …”

“Emma!” Mom sat on the bed and grabbed her hand. Emma felt the coldness of her skin and how her hands shook. “Matt, did you call Dr. Lain?”

“She—she’s on her way.”

“Emma, sweetie, it’s Mom. Talk to me, honey.”

“Unn …” The words wouldn’t come, but she could make a sound. She could move her fingers. The heart monitor sped up again and she felt her eyes flutter. She felt something rise in her chest as the knowledge of what was happening broke the surface. Her toes curled, and reality kicked in like a rush of cold air—she could move.

“Mrs. Arrington!” Dr. Lain’s steady voice broke through everything. How she got there that quickly, Emma was unsure. “Matt, what’s going on? What happened?”

“She’s responding, Doctor. It’s … it’s amazing.”

Emma wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to see something beyond an empty white room, beyond, even, those brilliant flashes of light that seemed to herald her awakening. She struggled against the invisible bonds that held her locked inside her head for so long.

“She’s fighting, Mrs. Arrington,” Dr. Lain said. “Call out to her.”

“Emma. Emma, come on, you can do it. I know you can. You always were so headstrong, just like your dad. You can make it. Keep fighting.”

“Come on, Em!” Jake piped up.

A chorus surrounded her, lifted her up. Emma felt the determination in her chest grow and strengthen. She curled her fingers and clenched her hands into fists. Mom choked out a sob, gripping at her hand. Jake prayed aloud. Dr. Lain and Matt were silent. Emma heard what sounded like a rush of air as the white room in her mind vanished. The heart monitor steadied, settling back into a familiar rhythm.

And Emma opened her eyes.

“Emma …?”

Dust mites floated through the air, illuminated by rays of sunlight streaming through the far window. Emma felt a breeze on her bare skin. It was gentle and smelled fresh. Everything was amplified. Emma’s memories of the world were under a cloud of gray, so far-off and unreachable she forgot the idea of clean air and bright lights and sensations that were anything other than dull. Now everything was almost too much. She felt the sheets beneath her, soft and cool, and grasped at them with fingers that did not remember their strength.

“Emma!”

She blinked, her vision clearing. Someone leaned over her. Their silhouette was too-close, and she shied away.

“Wait, Mrs. Arrington, hold on.”

The shadow moved. Another took its place. Warm fingers touched her forehead and pushed her hair back; Emma blinked again. The silhouette began to take shape, and the room around her cleared as her vision widened, focusing less on the lights and the dust and more on actual shapes. A room she remembered as hers—the nightstand on her right, closet behind it, window on the left to let in the light of the sunrise, walls painted soft blue to match her curtains—slowly began to reemerge. Emma felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Emma, can you hear me?”

She nodded. The person above her wore a white coat, and Emma recognized the voice as Dr. Lain’s. The warm hand on her head receded.

“Don’t try to speak,” Dr. Lain said. “You still have the feeding tubes and respirator in you. Give us a moment.”

Emma noticed the tubes now. Thick and plastic and layered with a strange taste, shoved down her nose and throat like some alien probe; the sensation of their presence had been so vague before. Now the urge to cough overtook her. She swallowed and gagged on the aftertaste.

“Stay calm. Matt will have those out of you soon. Just relax.”

Emma nodded again and tried to focus on something else. Mom, somewhere off to the right, murmured gentle words. Jake’s voice replied in a tone just as low. Emma couldn’t make out what they said, but the knowledge of their presence alone was comforting.

“You’re in a minor state of shock,” Dr. Lain continued, “Which is normal. You’ve been asleep for a long time. Do you remember?”

Emma nodded for a third time.

“All of this must be a sensory overload for you, so just focus on your breathing. Matt’s going to get those tubes out now. Matt?”

Dr. Lain moved back. Matt’s silhouette, a bit clearer, took her place. Emma could see light green scrubs and brown hair. His hair was a bit curlier than she imagined, but she got the color right. Matt put a hand on her shoulder and said something about holding still. Emma hadn’t planned on moving anyway. She felt a tug, and a bit of a sting as Matt took off the tape securing the tubes. The need to cough returned. She held out, squeezing her eyes shut as the tubes were pulled out, out, out. And gone.

She coughed, gagging on the cotton of her tongue. Her mouth felt dry and stale.

“Emma!” Mom gasped.

She shook her head. It was hard to breathe through her mouth, so she settled on breathing through her nose for the time being. Something on her right arm stung. She swallowed and coughed again, the violence of it making her head pound. A bitter taste welled up in the back of her throat and she tried to put a hand to her chest, but her right arm simply tensed and went limp. Damn it. She struggled to speak.

“Wa … water …”

“Mrs. Arrington?” Dr. Lain asked.

“I’ll go get her some.”

Mom’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. Emma tried to steady herself and focused her gaze on the ceiling. It was a popcorn ceiling, the same as always. When she was younger, she used to form patterns out of the little paper-like pieces with Dad before she went to bed, drawing figures and words and constellations into her personal sky. It hadn’t changed at all. She could still see the word hello and the stars that made up Cassiopeia. The familiarity calmed her. Off to the side, the heart monitor resumed a steady tempo.

“Here you go, honey.” Mom’s silhouette took the place of Matt’s. Emma saw the outline of a glass with a straw in it. She tried to lift her head, but it was too much. Everything ached. Matt moved forward to help her; with their combined effort, Emma was able to take a few slow sips.

“Better?” Mom asked.

Emma smiled as Matt gently lowered her head down. “Th-thanks, Mom.”

She didn’t reply, but Emma heard her soft sob.

“Emma,” Dr. Lain said, standing at the foot of her bed. “You said you remembered what happened? Do you remember being asleep?”

“Yes. I—I remember.”

Dr. Lain’s eyes widened in surprise. Emma could see her face clearly now; she looked just as imagined, though her features were a bit more pointed, and her eyes were almond in shape. She was beautiful, in a fierce sort of way. “You remember all of it?”

“I could hear you … all of you, the whole time, though some of it is kind of, um, unfocused.” Words began to return to Emma, the way they formed around her lips, their sound, the cadence of her voice as it shifted and fell. It was all coming back. Still, they got stuck in her throat, and her chest ached. “I was asleep for twenty-one years … right?”

“Yes. You’re thirty-four now.”

Tears sprang to Emma’s eyes again. “Where’s Mom?”

“Right here.” Mom moved back into her line of sight, her expression on the verge of crumbling. “I’m right here, sweetie.”

“I—I missed you.”

Tears ran down Mom’s cheeks. “I missed you, too.”

“I always wanted t-to reply, when you asked, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I was stuck in that room and I couldn’t—”

“What room?” Dr. Lain interrupted.

“The-the white room in my head. That’s where I was.”

“And you could hear everything from there?”

Emma nodded, blinking to clear her vision. “I don’t … know why, but even though I existed there and couldn’t see anything else, I heard everything.”

Mom’s tears increased tenfold. “Then you heard me, a few days ago, when I … when I gave up on you.”

“Mom …” A pang of bitterness.

“I should have known. I should have stayed with you no matter what.” She gave a heaving, breathy sob and pulled away, out of Emma’s sight. In her place, an somewhat familiar young man came into view. Emma felt the breath leave her lungs all at once.

“Jake?”

Whereas Mom didn’t look much different, just a few more wrinkles and gray hairs than before, Jake was nothing like she remembered. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a mess of scruff along his jaw. He still had the same jet-black hair and blue eyes, just like his sister, but he’d let his hair grow a bit and curl at the edges, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses sat perched at the end of his nose. He was twenty-eight now; Emma couldn’t believe it.

“Jake?” she asked, her voice still raspy. She reached out, and he took her hand with a smile. “Look at you … all grown up.”

“Same to you, Em.”

Emma smiled, but it was sad.

Jake’s voice was calm, but his eyes swam with emotion. “How long until she can get out of bed?” he asked.

Dr. Lain shook her head. “Her muscles will have atrophied, at the very least. It will take a while, probably years, for her to regain her full strength. Can you lift your head, Emma?”

“… Sort of. Not really.”

“And your arms?”

She nodded. “But they’re very weak.”

“That’s to be expected.” Dr. Lain frowned down at the clipboard in her hand; Emma hadn’t noticed it before. “First things first, how are you feeling? You should still be in shock, so we need to make sure you don’t panic.”

Emma took a moment, focusing on herself. She was emotional, but she didn’t feel like she was in shock. “I feel … okay.”

“Okay?”

“I don’t know. I feel calm.”

Dr. Lain wrote something down on her clipboard. “That might just be because reality hasn’t set in yet. Matt,” she said, turning to the nurse, “Make sure to keep an eye on her psychological state. When we take her in, I want us to get a full psych run-up.”

“Do you want me to get that set up now?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Jake interrupted. “Are you taking her in now?”

Dr. Lain lowered her clipboard, frowning. “Your sister just woke after being in a coma for twenty-one years. We need to take her in and get her a complete physical before we can even think about moving forward.”

“But—”

“This is not something that can be discussed. I was lenient while Emma was being given the Levodopa, but now that she is awake, she needs to be examined. At the very least, she’ll need to stay overnight. We can provide transport to the hospital.”

“Can’t we drive her there? The ambulances cost so much …”

Emma cringed. The hospital bills are too much.

“Your insurance will cover it.”

“Doctor—”

“Jake,” Mom said, cutting him off, “It’s fine, and Dr. Lain is right. Emma will need to be taken in. She … she hasn’t been awake in so long.” A fresh bout of tears spilled from her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands.

Jake sighed. “Mom and I will follow behind the ambulance.”

“Good.”

Emma took a few deep breaths. Everything was moving too fast. She had just woken up, and now she was getting transported to the hospital for a physical. She imagined they would run tests on her and keep watch over her for any changes. The thought of spending the night in a hospital was not a fun one, but she didn’t appear to have much of a choice in this.

Dr. Lain called emergency transport from the hospital, and Emma was loaded in on a gurney by two EMTs. She noticed the medical tape on her wrists and ankles as she was moved and asked about it. Dr. Lain said she had bedsores despite their efforts to avoid them. Apparently, they came from being in bed from so long.

As Emma was wheeled out of her house—it seemed pretty unchanged on the inside, save from a few new pictures and maybe new carpeting—she caught a glimpse of a cloudless, cerulean sky before the dull metal of the ambulance roof blocked it out. One of the EMTs sat beside her while another got in the front. Emma closed her eyes and tried her best to keep her breathing steady.

“Feeling all right?” The EMT beside her asked. The badge on his sleeve only had his last name and first initial, R. Sherman.

Emma nodded. “Just … just a bit lightheaded. And my chest hurts.”

He frowned. “Your chest hurts?”

“Like … it feels kind of tight.”

“Damn. Well, look.” He scooted closer and leaned over her. “My name is Ross. Can you do me a favor and breathe with me?”

“Breathe? Why?”

“Just follow my lead.” He breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth.

Unsure but deciding to just go with it, Emma did as he asked, breathing in and out, in and out. As she did, the tension in her chest began to decrease, and her head didn’t feel as light as before. How strange.

The ambulance stopped then, and Ross smiled at her as he opened the ambulance doors and climbed out. He was joined by the other EMT, whose name-tag read T. Martinez. She also offered Emma a calming smile.

Again, Emma got just a glimpse of the sky before the gurney was wheeled into the hospital. Dr. Lain showed up beside her along the way, clipboard still in hand, and gave orders to the two EMTs. Emma was wheeled into a rather standard-looking hospital room and hooked up yet again to a heart monitor and IV. The nurse was instructed to keep an eye on the Levodopa drip, and then Emma was left alone. Her chest started to hurt again. Anxiety rose up in her, only to be quelled as Mom and Jake walked into the room.

“Em,” Jake said, “Are you feeling okay?”

“A bit … breathless.”

“Yeah. Dr. Lain said you almost had a panic attack in the ambulance, but one of the EMTs calmed you down.”

“A panic attack?”

“It’s what happens when someone just starts panicking a lot—they can’t breathe, their chest hurts, they get tunnel vision and light-headed. That sort of stuff.”

Emma thought back to the trip over in the ambulance. Her chest did hurt, and she felt lightheaded too. That must have been why the EMT, Ross, had her breathe with him; it was probably to calm her down.

“Are you feeling better now?” Mom asked. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair mussed.

“A bit. This is just all … so much.”

Mom nodded, her hands clenched to her chest, and said nothing else.

Dr. Lain came back soon after and ordered a multitude of tests. Emma was made to sit still as she was jabbed with needles and pushed through a variety of MRIs and scans. She met so many nurses and doctors, each with a new last name to tack onto their title, and eventually it just became a blur. Emma started to wonder if she was dreaming.

“All right,” Dr. Lain said, “Emma, that’s the last of the tests for today. I’m going to give you a quick physical, discuss your future diet with your mother, and get a few other things smoothed out. But after that, you can get some sleep. Sound good?”

Emma’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, please.”

Dr. Lain did as she said and gave Emma a quick, simple physical, going over different things with her and explaining how they dealt with her menstrual cycle while she was asleep. Thankfully, Emma had been an early bloomer and got her period when she was eleven, so she already knew all about that. After her physical check-up was done, Dr. Lain took Mom to talk over some things, and Emma was left with just Jake and Matt. She hadn’t really gotten to talk to Matt since she woke up; it felt weird to say something now, but she knew she would have to eventually.

“Hey, Matt?”

The nurse moved into her field of view and gave her a crooked smile, just as she imagined. “So you know my name? I didn’t think you would.”

“Yeah, like I told Dr. Lain earlier … I heard everything while I was asleep.”

Matt hesitated, his face a bit red. “Everything?”

“Well, I mean … some parts are a bit unfocused, and I doubt I remembered everything from—from all twenty-one years. That’s a lot to remember.”

“Oh, right.” Matt shrugged. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you in person, Emma.”

Emma smiled. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Morgan called the other day by the way,” Jake said, moving closer again. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but everything else was so hectic, so … yeah. Anyway, she said she was going to drop by the house and see you soon.”

“Does she know …?” Emma trailed off, frowning.

“No. That was before we got the diagnosis.”

Emma hesitated. She wanted to see Morgan, but she couldn’t think of a good way to explain everything without springing it on her. Morgan was her best friend, the only one who truly stayed by her side—she even outdid Emma’s own mother.

“I’d like to see her, but … how are we going to explain this?”

Jake shrugged. “Just tell the truth?”

“No, I mean, I don’t want to shock her, you know?”

“Yeah.” Jake frowned. “Hm, well, she did call earlier. I can return the call and ask when she’s coming over. Then I guess we can ease her into it from there?”

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Em, I …” Jake hesitated, an odd emotion Emma didn’t recognize on his face. “Um, never mind. I’ll be right back.”

Emma nodded, though she got the distinct impression that he wanted to say something else just then. She watched as Jake stepped out of the hospital room. In his wake, Matt sat down beside her and sighed.

“What?” Emma asked.

He shook his head. “Just … I don’t know. This is so much to take in. It seems like everything happened so quickly, the diagnosis, the medicine, and now you’re just here with us. I mean, I’ve only been your nurse for the past few years, but still.”

Emma gave him a sad smile. “You’re telling me.” The world she knew for the past twenty-one years was gone, disintegrated the moment she opened her eyes. Everything she was used to, the heightened sounds and knowledge of space without seeing it, was so different in the spans of just a few moments. She felt misplaced even more now that she was no longer in her bedroom. Everything outside the hospital was unfocused, too jarring to really register. In her head, the house where she grew up and the hospital room she was in now were the only places that existed in the whole universe.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did it feel like when you were asleep?” Matt asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Um …” Emma really didn’t want to think about it, but she figured Matt had asked out of scientific curiosity. “Well, like I said before, I was trapped in this strange white room. I was just drifting most of the time. It was frustrating, and scary. I thought …” she trailed off.

“What?” Matt urged.

“No, nothing.”

Matt frowned. “You said you were drifting most of the time. What does that mean?”

“It was kind of like I was just existing. I didn’t really think or react, I just let my consciousness fade out. It was the closest I could get to sleeping.” Emma hesitated, a thought occurring to her. “Hey, this is going to sound weird, but is there a mirror I could use?”

“A mirror? What for?”

“Well, I haven’t … I haven’t seen myself, you know.” Emma could see her arms and legs and torso, and even a bit of her hair; it was much longer than she remembered, but still the same color of midnight black. “I want to know what I look like now.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m going to have to eventually.”

Matt stared at her a moment before he nodded and stood. “Well, all right. I’ll go find one.” He stepped out of the room as well, and Emma gave herself a chance to look around the place. As she had noticed before, it seemed pretty standard as far as hospital rooms go. The bed she was in was comfortable enough, with clean white sheets and a soft blanket over top. A few chairs surrounded a small coffee table in one corner, a dusty TV was mounted on the wall opposite her—just like the one she had when she was a kid—and a large window to her right was covered by long, thick blinds. Everything was a strange color that wasn’t quite white but wasn’t quite cream either, more of an in-between that made everything looked washed-out.

Matt came back then, holding a little mirror in one hand. He stopped beside the bed and gave Emma a look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right, then.” He held out the mirror.

Emma stared at him a moment, inhaled slowly, and then took the mirror and raised it.

… That can’t be me.

She expected to look different, of course. After twenty-one years, that much was obvious, but she wasn’t quite expecting how different she looked. Her skin was pale and a bit sallow, her cheeks sunken and collarbones visible above the collar of her hospital gown. Strangely, there weren’t many lines and wrinkles in her face, but her age was obvious in the lack of baby fat and the angularity of her bone structure. Emma put a hand to her face, trailing it over unfamiliar skin. Her eyes were still blue, her hair still black, and she could see some of her old self in the set of her eyes and the quirk of her lips, but everything else was so different.

“Emma?” Matt asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah … yeah, I just … is that really how I look?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Emma started and looked up at Matt. Beautiful? She was about to say more, prolong the conversation, but then Jake came back in and the moment was over.

“Hey, Em” Jake said. He held a shiny, black rectangle in one hand. “I got a hold of Morgan. She has work the rest of the week, but she’ll come by as soon as possible.”

Emma sat back, ignoring the hesitation on Matt’s face as he took the mirror from her and set it down on the coffee table. “Oh, okay. That’s fine. Um, what’re you holding?”

“My phone.” Jake held up the black rectangle. Emma stared at it, starting a bit when part of it lit up like a computer screen.

“Your phone?”

“Oh.” Jake laughed a bit, but it sounded flat. “Sorry, it’s a smartphone. An iPhone, to be exact. You can carry it around without worrying about cords or anything.”

Emma’s mind reeled. She felt the echoes of culture shock as she took the iPhone and studied it for a moment. It was thin and lightweight, its screen made of glass and seemingly sensitive to the touch. A white-ish line of text toward the bottom of the screen said Press Home to unlock. The background looked a bit generic. After scrutinizing the phone for a moment, Emma gingerly handed it back to Jake.

“That thing is weird.”

He smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

“… I guess.”

“These things take time,” Matt said. “But you’ll be fine, Emma. You’ll make it.”

Emma smiled at him. She wanted to share that optimism, but she already felt so out-of-place just being somewhere other than her bedroom. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like when she finally went out into the world.

“Thanks, Matt.”

That night, Emma laid in the hospital bed and stared up at the ceiling. Jake had gone home; Mom was still there, asleep in a chair in the corner. Her breathing was soft but rapid. Emma glanced at her before she raised one hand and held it up for a few moments; her hands were slim, her fingers long. They didn’t look like hers. She sighed and lowered her hand back to the bed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the midnight-black waves of her hair spread out across the sheets. It looked greasy and uneven; maybe she could get a haircut.

Dr. Lain said I was in a minor state of shock. Is this what it feels like?

She couldn’t quite focus on reality, on the fact that she was awake after so long. The leap in time she had taken sat in the back of her mind. She was afraid of what would happen if she started to think about it.

Moonlight slanted through the blinds of the hospital window. She could hear the gentle sounds of night—the absence of conversation, the hum of medical equipment that seemed to be a constant in her life, the occasional passing car outside, the soft musical notes of nighttime animals. When she was asleep, everything was muffled. The world was so clear now; it was almost too much. She could see the outline of the TV mounted on the far wall, the main door leading to the rest of the hospital, Mom’s sleeping silhouette—those were all normal things, okay things. But then there were the formless shapes she couldn’t identify, the ones that seemed to twist and undulate, forming monsters in the darkness.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Tears leaked from their corners, dripping down her cheeks and dampening her blankets. Nothing is there. Nothing is there.

She was awake.