David woke up in the hospital, still in shock at all that’d happened.
A part of him had thought it was all a nightmare — that the demon attack had never happened, that he would wake up and all his friends would be there. Another part of him figured he’d made his way to Sheol, the abysmal afterlife, the strange dark place where people good or bad got cast down into.
The light filtering through his room dispelled the latter theory. The fact that he was in a hospital dispelled the former. The only thing he could figure out was right in front of him: his body on the hospital bed, his mother sitting on a chair off to the side.
She didn’t greet him. In fact, she didn’t say anything, because she’d nodded off.
“Mom,” David said again, a bit more loudly this time.
She moaned for a second, high-pitched and quick, upset at being woken up. Then she remembered where she was, that her son was alive. Her eyes teared up.
“David,” she said.
She got up, leaned over and hugged her kid. “You had a great funeral, you know.”
“Only the best for you son?” he choked out, tears running down his face.
“Nothing could beat Princess Diana’s, but yours was a damn close second.”
The two of them stayed there for a while, awkwardly embracing. Neither wanted to let go.