by Alex Grayson
That’s all it takes for my legs to give out, and I sink to my knees, right there in front of my mom and dad. A churning starts in my stomach, and I feel like I’m going to puke. A buzzing starts in my ears and the outside edges of my vision start to blur. My chest heaves rapidly and tingles form at the tips of my fingers. I know I’m on the verge of a panic attack and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
The only thing that brings me back is the hard grip on my shoulder and Kelsey’s whimpered, “I’m scared, Alexander.”
I focus my gaze and see my mother’s tear-filled eyes looking at me. She’s on the floor in front of me, with my dad beside her, his hand on my shoulder.
To my father, I say, “Grab my keys from the bar. Gwen and the kids have been in an accident.” I don’t have time to explain more, and thankfully they don’t ask.
He stands and pulls keys from his pocket. “We’ll take mine.”
“Do you know where you are, Kelsey?” I barely get out through my thick throat.
I push past the sick feeling in my stomach and stand on shaky legs. We’re already heading out the door when Kelsey answers.
“We were j-just turning on the r-road that leads to y-your h-house.”
I relay the information to my mother and tell her to call 911. She whips out her phone and immediately starts dialing.
Feeling like someone’s reached inside my chest and is squeezing my heart with needle-lined gloves, I run toward my parents’ car. Sensing my urgency, they both run behind me, getting in the car only seconds after me.
“We’re coming, Kelsey,” I promise hoarsely. “Just stay on the phone with me, okay?”
Her “Okay” sounds so small and fragile.
I hear my mom in the back seat talking to a dispatcher, explaining as much as she can without having any details except for the location and that there’s an unconscious woman and two children. My dad speeds out of the driveway, and I’m glad he decided to drive. I’m not sure I would be able to at the moment. My phone repeatedly taps against my ear from my hand shaking so much.
It’s only about five minutes from my house, but it takes us less than two. There are two cars sitting haphazardly on the side of the road. One has the front end totally smashed in with the front windshield shattered. Even through the shattered glass, you can see the blood splattered on the inside.
As sad as it is that it appears the driver is probably dead, my only concern is the other car, which is flipped over. I climb from the car, my eyes never leaving Gwen’s. My legs feel numb as I walk closer to it. Through the busted-out window, I can see Gwen’s dark brown hair. Not her face, not her body, just her fucking hair.
My legs freezing in place about twenty feet away. My chest feels likes there’s a ten-ton boulder sitting on it. The phone I still have clutched in my hand falls from my fingers. I don’t hear it hit the ground. I don’t hear my father calling my name or see him running toward Gwen’s truck while my mom goes to check on the occupants of the other car. I don’t see him helping Kelsey and Daniel out or hear their hysterical cries. I don’t hear when Daniel notices me and starts screaming my name. I don’t hear the far-off sounds of sirens that are still too fucking far away.
My eyes are focused on the matted brown hair. It’s like I have tunnel vision and that’s all I can see; nothing else exists. Then the vision changes, and it’s Clara’s pleading eyes that I see. It’s her hoarse screams begging me to save Rayne that I hear. It’s Clara’s contorted face after the water swallowed her up, and the black abyss in the back seat as I looked for Rayne when I was pulled from the car. It’s Rayne’s cries, and the resounding silence when they abruptly stopped.
Then it changes again. Clara is replaced with Gwen. It’s Gwen’s brown hair that floats in the water, almost giving her an ethereal appearance. It’s Gwen’s terrified blue gaze that silently begs me. It’s Gwen’s hand that tries to reach for me, that I’m unable to grab hold of.
Something in me snaps, and I’m hurtled back into the here and now. Everything crashes back into focus all at once. My heart slams against my rib cage when I realize I’ve been standing here way too long while Gwen’s been in the car, maybe dying. That thought has my feet beating against the pavement as I run toward the truck.
Ten feet away, a hysterical cry has me looking to the left. My dad has a distraught Kelsey in his arms. She’s screaming “Mama” over and over again as she struggles with everything she has, trying to break free and run back to the truck. Her arms are stretched out, her fingers opening and closing pathetically, as if trying to grab for her mom. I can see my dad is having a hard time keeping hold of her. If it wasn’t for the urgency of the situation, I’d be amazed at her strength.
Looking back at Gwen’s ruined car and her brown hair, I take a chance and run the few feet to Kelsey and my dad. She needs to calm down before she hurts herself. I would never be able to live with myself if something happened to her.
I come to a stop in front of them, but it’s as though Kelsey doesn’t even see me. Her eyes are frantic as she strains to look around me at the truck and screams for her mother. I grab her cheeks and step fully in front of her, blocking her view of the truck. The sight of her red and swollen eyes, tear-soaked cheeks, heaving chest, and trembling body has my throat clogging. I quickly take stock of the rest of her and am glad when I only see a small scratch on her cheek.
Her eyes are on me now, but they stay unfocused, the pupils dilated, and I know she still doesn’t see me. Her struggles have slowed now that she’s not able to see the car, but haven’t died down completely. My dad is still bent with one arm wrapped tightly around her waist and one around her upper body.
“Kelsey,” I call. When she still looks through me, I say her name more forcefully and shake her lightly, needing to get her attention quickly so I can get to Gwen. “Kelsey!” Her pupils finally shrink and her eyes focus on me. The plea in them reminds me of Clara’s when she begged me to save Rayne. I have to grit my teeth and force myself to not go back down that dark hole of remembrance.
“I need you to calm down for me, okay? I’m going to go get your mom, but I need you to stay here with David. He’s my dad and will take care of you.” I stop, making sure she hears me, then ask, “Can you do that for me?”
It only takes her a couple of seconds before she nods. “Okay,” she croaks.
I lean forward and kiss her forehead, then pull back. My eyes briefly lift to my dad’s. He gives me a nod, and I know he’ll care for her. I look around quickly and am satisfied when I see a crying Daniel in my mom’s arms a few feet away.
My stomach bottoms out as I turn back to the car.
You can’t fucking have her, I demand silently to God. You’ve taken enough from me. I barely survived last time. I know I won’t be able to a second time. She’s mine, and I need her. I refuse to let you take her!
When I skid to a stop at her side of the car, I still don’t see her face. It’s turned slightly to the side and her mane of thick hair falls down, hiding her from view. I can see her body though, as it hangs upside down from the still buckled seat belt. The steering wheel keeps her legs from hanging down, but her arms hang lifelessly, her hands resting against the roof.
I drop to my knees, not only because I need to be on the ground to be able to get to her, but because my knees will no longer hold me up.
“Gwen,” I whisper hoarsely. Not expecting an answer, I’m not surprised when I don’t get one. Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away. I can’t afford to lose it right now. That can come later.
The door doesn’t budge when I try opening it. There’s glass on the pavement, but I don’t feel it as it cuts into my hands when I push my upper body through the window and gently push back her hair.
My heart stops, and I break out into a cold sweat when I see the big gash on her head, starting at her hairline and stopping at the outside edge of her eyebrow. A steady drip of blood falls from the deep cut, and when I look down, I see the small pool of blood. Icy
fear slithers deeper into my gut.
I amend my earlier thought.
Please don’t take her from me. Please, let her be okay. I can’t lose her too. Kelsey and Daniel can’t lose her. We all need her too damn much. She’s too important.
I slide my fingers along her neck until I reach the spot where a pulse should be. At first I don’t feel it, and I die inside, but then a faint bump hits the tip of my fingers. Then another a second later. It’s weak. Too fucking weak, but it’s there, and it gives me hope. I just pray it’s not false hope.
Needing to get her free of the seat belt, but not wanting to jar her too much for fear of doing more damage, I angle my body beneath hers and lie on my back so I’m looking up at her. Her hair drapes against my chest, just below my face, and the blood dripping from the cut starts soaking my shirt.
“I’m going to get you out of here, baby,” I tell her silent form. “Just hold on for me, okay? The ambulance is almost here. I just need you to hold on.”
I know she’s unconscious and probably doesn’t hear me, but it helps to talk to her. It makes the possibility of losing her seem less real. I can’t think of that right now, because I’ll freeze again. I wasn’t able to save Clara and Rayne. I’ll be damned if I won’t save Gwen.
Spreading my fingers as far apart as I can, I place my palm against her chest and lift my body slightly. When I release the seat belt, with my hand on her chest and my body only about a foot away from hers, I slowly lower her to me. I move her legs so they fall from behind the steering wheel.
Immediate relief hits me when I feel her warm body against mine, but it’s short lived, because I know she’s not out of danger. The gash on her forehead is deep and there’s a chance there could be internal bleeding in her brain. Not to mention there could damage to other parts of her body. From the brief glance I got when I first stuck my head in the cab, I didn’t see anything else wrong with her on the outside, but that doesn’t mean there couldn’t be something wrong on the inside.
I push past the panic that thought tries to bring forward.
I wrap one arm around her upper body and try to keep it as still as possible so I don’t jolt her as I start shifting both of us out of the window inch by inch.
I have her out about halfway, when the space becomes too small. I’m about to call out to my dad when I feel hands on the arm I have wrapped around her. I lift my head and look out the window to see my dad down on his knees, ready to help.
“Be careful. She’s got a big gash on her forehead and we don’t know what other injuries she has.”
He nods and slips his arms beneath her shoulders while I lift her upper thighs as best as I can with my upper body still in the truck. Once her legs are out, I scoot as fast as I can until I’m out. My dad has her laid out on her back, and I crawl until I’m hovering over her. Her face is ghostly white and it scares the shit out of me. Although I just felt her pulse a moment ago, the need to feel it again has my fingers going back to her throat.
Right as I feel the slight thump again, a voice comes from behind me.
“Sir, we need you to step back.”
A second later, a medical bag is set down beside me, then a paramedic gets down on his knees on her other side, while the other waits for me to get out of the way.
I want to insist that I’m not going anywhere, that I can’t leave her side, but I know I have to move in order for them to do their work.
I don’t stand, I just scoot back several feet and sit on my heels. My breath comes in pants as I watch helplessly while they take her vitals and slip on a neck brace. My body feels completely numb, all except for my heart. Each heavy beat sends a sharp pain through my chest. I ball my hands into fists so tight that my knuckles scream at me. Tears leak from my eyes, scalding my cheeks.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up. My dad’s standing there watching them work on Gwen as well, a look of deep sadness marring his face. My eyes drift past him to my mom, who has Daniel and Kelsey in her arms. Both are crying and have their eyes pinned on Gwen lying still on the pavement.
Kelsey’s eyes leave her mom long enough to look at me, and I lift my arm toward her, indicating I want them to come to me. I need them in my arms right now, and I know they need me too. My mom sees my lifted arm and lets the kids go. Kelsey, with her brother’s hand in hers, runs them both over to me.
I open my arms and they crash against my chest. I close my eyes and thank God they’re both okay, then beg God in the same breath that their mother will be as well. I open my eyes and see Gwen now on a spinal board.
The kids cry against my shoulders, and I want to keep them against me until I know Gwen is okay, but they need to be checked out too.
As if sensing my thoughts, another paramedic comes to kneel beside us, medical bag in hand. I release the kids and try to pull back, but they cling to me. I allow their arms to stay around me, but I lean my head back so I can look at them. Their lips tremble as their tear-filled eyes meet mine.
My voice is scratchy when I tell them, “The paramedics need to check you both over, okay?” Fear enters their face, so I reassure them. “I’ll be right here with you.”
“Is M-mama going to be o-okay?” Kelsey asks in a terrified voice.
I have no fucking clue what to tell her because I don’t know the answer. I don’t want to lie to her, but I also don’t want to scare her any further than she already is. I look over and see the paramedics lifting Gwen onto the gurney.
I look back to Kelsey, and I hope like fuck that I’m not lying to her when I say, “Your mom is going to be fine.”
It takes her a minute, but she nods, taking my words for the truth I pray they are. She releases me and turns to the paramedic, and Daniel follows suit.
As he looks the kids over, my eyes go back to Gwen, who still hasn’t woken up. It’s scares me shitless that she’s still unconscious. I need her to wake up and show me she’s going to be okay. I need to hear her beautiful voice and see her stunning blue eyes. I won’t be able to fully breathe again until I do. The only thing keeping me together at the moment is the two kids that need me to stay strong. Gwen would want me to be strong for them. If it weren’t for them, there’s no telling the state I’d be in.
The paramedic deems the kids fine, just a few bumps and bruises, but still wants them to be checked out at the hospital. I’m torn when he asks me if I want to ride in the back of the ambulance with the kids, because I want to be with Gwen. The thought of having her out of my sight has panic trying to take over. What if she dies on the way to the hospital? What if we get there and the paramedic says she didn’t make it?
I look to the kids’ scared and pain-filled faces and know I can’t leave them alone. I know my mom or dad would ride with them, but it’s me they want, and I can’t deny them. There’s nothing I can do for Gwen at the moment. She’s in the hands of the paramedics, and I have to trust them to keep her safe. The kids need me more than her right now.
Gwen is loaded up and when the door’s closed and I can no longer see her, I swear my heart drops to my stomach. Vomit threatens.
The ambulance speeds away with its siren blaring, and I pray once again that she’ll be okay.
She has to be.
As the kids and I are loaded into the back of the other ambulance, my dad promises that he and my mom will be right behind us. I nod as the doors close behind us, and seconds later we’re moving as well, at a slower speed. I grit my teeth to keep from demanding we go faster.
The kids are sitting on the gurney, and I’ve got each of my hands holding one of theirs. I try to smile at them to keep up the façade of Gwen being okay. I don’t want them to see the worry and pain I’m currently feeling. They don’t need to know that I’m slowly dying inside, and I won’t be resurrected until I know Gwen will make it out of this alive.
Until I get a chance to tell her what I haven’t told her yet. That I love her.
Chapter 21
Gwendolyn
I wake to the most beaut
iful sound I’ve heard in years. It warms my belly and makes me want to smile. I want to open my eyes and look for the wonderful sound, but I’m scared if I do, it’ll only be a dream. It’s something I’ve wanted to hear for such a long time and feared would never happen. I don’t think I’ll survive it if it’s just a dream.
Something warm and soft is pressed to my side, and I want to snuggle into it further. A sweet and innocent floral scent hits my nose, and I love the smell. I feel pressure on my hand, and it’s only then I realize there are small fingers laced with mine. I give a tiny squeeze, checking to see if it’s real or just my imagination.
“Mama?” a soft voice says in my ear, and it’s that sound again that I love so much. The sweet way it’s said has tears forming under my closed eyes.
Unable to hold off any longer, I squint my eyes open, ready to slam them shut again and pray I can pull the dream back if what I hope is happening isn’t true. I feel the pull of a bandage and a slow throb on my forehead. Bright light blinds me and the throb becomes a piercing pain. Ignoring it, I try to focus. I need to know if it’s real. My vision is blurry, so I blink a few times.
When the world comes into focus, I’m met with eyes so green and beautiful it takes my breath away.
“Mama?” the voice says again.
My heart hurts so much at hearing this particular voice call me mama. But it’s a beautiful kind of pain. It’s a pain I’ll not only endure, I’ll beg to feel it every single day for the rest of my life.
Tears start leaking down my cheeks, and I let them, because there’s no way I could force them back.
“Hey, baby,” I croak, and lift my hand to lay it on my baby girl’s cheek.
Her eyes turn glassy, and I know she’s going to cry too. Seconds later, the first tear falls and her lips start to tremble. Her eyes flicker back and forth between mine, as if searching for something. She has a small bandage on her right cheek. Before I get a chance to worry that she’s hurt, she launches herself at me and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. Mine go around her small waist, and I hold on for dear life. My body aches where she’s lying on me, but I don’t care. I’ve got my girl in my arms and she said mama.