by Kate Stacy
I pray. I bow my head and I pray to a God I’m not sure I believe in, but I’m desperate.
Time passes slowly and the wait is excruciating.
My body tenses when a man in blue scrubs pushes through the door, pulling a surgical cap from his head.
“Family of Madalyn Sterling?”
Everyone stands.
I search his face for clues, for any sign of whether or not she’s okay, but his expression gives nothing away.
The doctor strides across the small room and offers his hand to her parents.
“I’m Doctor Richardson. I’m the surgeon that operated on your daughter.”
They shake his hand, introducing themselves. Holden cuts in, shaking the surgeon’s hand while pummeling him with questions without allowing him to actually answer any.
“What happened? How is she? Is my sister okay? When can we see her?”
“Holden give the doctor a chance to speak,” Mrs. Sterling says softly, placing her hand on Holden’s arm and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Quite alright. I understand how anxious you must be.”
Holden crosses his arms over his chest. I can tell he’s biting his tongue so the doctor can talk. We all listen intently as he explains Madalyn’s condition.
“Madalyn was bleeding profusely when she was brought in. It took a while to control the bleeding and she lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stop it. After assessing her injuries, we were able to determine that she sustained two gunshot wounds—one to the lower abdomen, the other to her shoulder. She also suffered a severe head trauma that left a laceration above her right eye.
“The shot to her shoulder went straight through, so we were able to close it up easily, but the shot to her abdomen was much worse. The angle in which it entered caused it to tear through her uterus and left fallopian tube. The damage was significant and unfortunately...we were unable to save the baby.”
A chorus of gasps fills the room. But me? I can’t fucking breathe.
“Baby? … Madalyn was pregnant?”
A pit opens up in my stomach and a flood of memories washes over me.
My beautiful girl has to grieve the loss of another baby. Hasn’t she fucking suffered enough?
“I’m so sorry. Yes, she was pregnant. I’d say around seventeen weeks. There was no heartbeat when she came in and the damage from the bullet was too severe. There was absolutely nothing we could do. We’ve repaired the damage as much as possible, but I’m afraid she’ll have a lot of scarring. And it’s likely she’ll be unable to have children in the future.”
I faintly hear Mrs. Sterling’s choked sobs, and Mr. Sterling’s quiet murmurs of comfort, but my focus is zeroed in on the doctor.
Camille’s voice breaks through the white noise.
“Please tell us that’s all,” she pleads.
Dr. Richardson shakes his head somberly.
“I’m afraid not. Those were the worst of the injuries, but she also has multiple broken ribs and deep bruising covering most of her body…”
He quiets as Mrs. Sterling loses herself to tears. I’ve never seen her so distraught.
I stand stoically, waiting for the rest. Somehow, I know he hasn’t told us the worst.
“But...she’ll be okay, right?” Holden asks, voice laced with desperation and worry.
“I’m afraid that’s a difficult question to answer. We’ve taken care of her injuries and given her a blood transfusion, but we can’t predict what will happen from this point. Madalyn’s heart stopped while on the operating table and it took several minutes to revive her. I’m told there were also three similar instances en route to the hospital.”
Holden’s head jerks toward me, his eyes full of questions.
A single nod from me confirms the doctor’s words. Tears stream down my cheeks. I can still hear that monitor flatline. Not a sound I’m likely to forget, it will haunt me for the rest of my life. It killed a little piece of me every time. Worst thing I’ve ever experienced.
Holden pulls me toward him, forcing me to finally release every bit of emotion I’ve been holding in.
The doctor gives us a minute to take in the news before he delivers the final blow.
“Madalyn’s body suffered a great deal of trauma tonight. We’ve done everything we can to treat her injuries, but we’ve not been able to wake her since bringing her out of surgery. All we can do now is wait and give her body time to heal itself.”
“She’s in a coma?” Presley asks in a barely audible whisper.
Dr. Richardson nods. “It’s not uncommon in cases like this, but the next 48 hours are critical.” He inhales deeply before continuing. “I never like breaking news like this to families, but you all need to be prepared for the worst. We’re hopeful that she’ll make a full recovery, but the reality is we have no way of knowing if her body will suffer any lasting effects from the trauma. Physical injuries aside, her brain was starved of oxygen for quite some time, which can cause life-changing and debilitating problems. There is also a chance she might not wake up at all.”
His words barely reach my ears before my legs give out and my knees hit the cold, hard floor. Selfishly, I can’t provide comfort to her family right now. I’m lost in my own grief. Those horrible fucking words repeating over and over again in my head.
She might not wake up at all.
I can’t lose the reason I breathe.
It’s a completely disconcerting to wake up without knowing where you are, or how you got there.
My thoughts are cloudy when I stir from sleep. My head is pounding, and it feels like it’s filled with cotton. My eyelids are heavy, in fact, it feels as though my entire body is weighted down. I try to move my arm, but it doesn’t budge because something heavy is preventing my movement.
Without opening my eyes, I struggle to focus on everything around me.
Stiff, scratchy fabric beneath my fingers.
The sound of slow, measured breathing.
A low, steady hum and a quiet, rhythmic beep.
The unmistakable scent of antiseptic.
I’m in the hospital.
That realization brings a sudden onslaught of terrifying images in my mind.
David showing up at Holden’s apartment.
My head slamming with a loud thud against the wall.
Shattered glass and broken bones.
Blood. So much blood.
The glint of a gun as he pointed directly at my belly…
Gasping for air, my body jackknifes to a sitting position. Pain takes over my entire body, my eyes shoot open and my back slams back to the bed.
“Shhh. You can’t move, baby girl. Stay still, let me call a nurse.”
My brother reaches over me to press the call button for the nurse. Turning his attention back to me, he gently strokes my cheek and pushes my hair away from my face.
“You’re awake.”
Tears form in my eyes, a mixture of pain and intuition making it impossible not to fight my emotions.
I remember everything. And I know.
I’ve felt this emptiness before. This hollow feeling, like a vital piece of me is missing.
Moving one hand over my belly, I look at my brother. I need confirmation of what I already know.
He sucks in a breath, clearly understanding what I’m asking without words. Eyes glazed with tears, he moves his head in an almost imperceptible nod. “I’m so sorry, Mads.”
Biting my bottom lip, I try to hold back my tears, but it’s no use.
My vision blurs. Trails of warm, wet tears stream down my face. Physical pain meets the emotional as my body shakes uncontrollably with my sobs. I hurt everywhere.
The bed dips beside me and a strong set of arms carefully wraps around my body, but I already know it’s not my brother.
“Jax.” I cry out. “My baby. Not my baby!”
Pulling me against him as gently as possible, he nuzzles his nose in my hair and whispers sweet words of comfort in my ear. But I don’t hear any of
them. Not a single word.
He holds me like this until my sobs are quieted to sniffles, and exhaustion takes over, my body slipping into slumber again.
The next time I wake up, my mom is in the chair at my bedside.
Looking around the small hospital room, I see Jaxson in the corner. I watch him as he sleeps, his large body curled up in the small chair. He can’t be comfortable.
“He hasn’t left. Not since you were brought in. No one can get him to leave this room,” mom whispers.
I look at her, ignoring the glassy sheen in her eyes.
“How long?” I ask, my voice coming out in a coarse whisper.
“Four days,” she answers. “We weren’t sure you were going to wake up. We’ve been so afraid.”
I have so many questions but lack the strength to voice them. Instead, I turn my gaze back to Jaxson and let my mind fill with thoughts of him. He’s been a steady presence and source of comfort since I walked away from David. Even after every wrong choice, every mistake I made. He’s been here for me and I don’t deserve him.
God, so many regrets.
Before I can beat myself up too much, there’s a knock on the door.
A man I don’t recognize enters quietly, a smile appearing on his face when he looks at me.
“It’s good to see you awake, Madalyn.”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion, which only makes him smile wider. Chuckling, he introduces himself. “I’m Dr. Richardson. I was the on-call surgeon when they brought you in.”
I feel Jaxson’s calm presence when he comes to stand beside the bed. I don’t turn to look at him, but I know he’s there, my feeling confirmed when he takes my hand in his. I don’t acknowledge him, or the doctor’s introduction.
“Has anyone talked to you about what happened?”
I answer with a gentle shake of my head, careful not to aggravate the lingering traces of my headache.
I listen in silence as the doctor thoroughly explains the physical damage David caused, as well as the details of my surgery, and the lasting effects of both. It’s extremely difficult to hear. Having lived through the horror of that night, it’s distressing to learn all of the ways my body has been broken because of it. I try to listen attentively, but there’s so much information and my head is still foggy. Dr. Richardson must be aware of my current mental state.
“I know it’s a lot of information to process. Do you have any questions?”
Struggling, I mentally wade through everything I’ve been told when something sparks in my mind.
“You...you said I can’t have children.” It’s not a question.
“While not impossible, it’s highly improbable,” he explains, clearing his throat before continuing. “The bullet caused significant damage to your uterus, which we were able to repair, but there will be scarring that may make it difficult to carry a baby to term. There was also severe damage to your left fallopian tube, and we were unable to save your ovary.”
My breath hitches, and my heart shatters into a billion tiny pieces.
I’ve lost two babies. Now, I’ve lost my chance for another.
I’m never going to have a baby.
Never going to be a mother.
I faintly hear the doctor apologize and excuse himself from the room, but his apology means nothing. A million apologies wouldn’t give me back what I’ve lost. What was stolen from me. What I can never get back.
He stole everything from me. Left me completely ruined.
Devastation meets anger and together, they destroy every little bit of what’s left of me.
While my heart breaks, and my mind wars with everything I’ve learned, Jaxson holds me in his warm embrace. He doesn’t offer useless apologies or empty platitudes; he simply holds me and lets me mourn.
It kills me to see Madalyn so depressed.
Ever since the doctor gave her the news about her probable inability to have a baby, she’s been quiet and withdrawn. It’s understandable, because she’s been through hell. But just because I understand it, doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’d give anything to erase her pain.
It’s torture watching her, knowing that she’s beating herself up for everything that happened. Putting all the blame on herself even though there’s only one person responsible. The guilt she feels is eating her alive and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to take it away.
Her entire family has tried to get me to take a break, to leave the hospital room for a while. I refuse every time. I will not leave her side—not until she tells me, and it doesn’t seem like that’ll happen any time soon. Part of it is my need to be her source of comfort and protection. Even after all this time, it’s clear that Madalyn finds a sense of both when she’s in my arms. If she needs me, I want to be right here waiting.
The other part—a big part—is my deep-seated fear of history repeating itself. I’m afraid that if I leave, I’ll be prevented from coming back. Like last time. I won’t go through that again. I need to be here for her, and she needs me just as much. I’ll never let anyone keep us apart again.
The four days she slept were agonizing.
I watched her, obsessively, afraid she would slip away when I wasn’t looking. Afraid to lose the reason I breathe. I didn’t eat, barely slept, only taking my eyes off her when I had no other choice. I’ve been lost for the last few years without her, but the thought of her not breathing...it absolutely gutted me. I can’t survive in a world where she doesn’t exist.
Now that she’s been awake for a couple of days, the doctors have talked about releasing her. Physically, she’s doing incredible. There have been no signs of infection, and no lasting effects from her head injury. Mentally, she’s a mess, but it’s to be expected. We were given the names of a few local therapists and have been encouraging her to talk to someone. Her physical wounds will heal, but her emotional scars will be long lasting. She needs time.
The only unknown right now is David.
The night he attacked Madalyn, Holden and I didn’t stick around to find out what happened. She was our first and only priority. The only thing that mattered. The police came to the hospital a couple times those first few days, but they wouldn’t tell us anything. All they would say is that David isn’t a threat anymore and Madalyn has no need to be worried. The details, well, those are part of an ongoing investigation and they won’t provide any until after they’ve spoken to Madalyn.
They haven’t been back since she woke up. The doctors told them to give her some time, but it looks like time has run out.
A knock on the door is followed by two officers entering the hospital room.
The woman steps forward first, introducing herself as Officer Bartlett and her male counterpart as Officer Morris.
“It’s so good to see you awake, Mrs. Sterling. If you’re up for it, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Madalyn hasn’t talked to anyone about what happened that night. Not for lack of trying. Her entire family has tried to get her to open up to no avail. Knowing this and knowing that talking about it is going to be difficult for her, I offer to wait outside. I’m dying to know what happened, but I don’t want to make things hard for her. Her comfort comes before my selfish curiosity.
“No, Jax. Please stay.” Her voice trembles, cracking with emotion. “I need you.”
Christ. I’ve waited so long to hear her speak those words.
“Then I’m here, baby.”
I lean down, kissing her forehead softly and taking a seat at her side. Madalyn grabs my hand, holding it like a lifeline. Right now, maybe it is.
We both turn our attention to the officers, who waste no time.
“David Williams was your husband, correct?” Officer Bartlett asks.
“Yes, we’ve been married for two years, but we were separated. I left him a week before…” She trails off, not wanting to say the word.
“That answers our next question.” The officer nods, looking down at a notepad. “While searching the crime scene, we fou
nd a file containing what appears to be records of abuse. Dates, descriptions, photos…”
“Right. David started abusing me about a week after we got married. Eventually, I started keeping records. I wanted to leave him, and I knew it would help me make a clean break. He found me before I got a chance to file a report.”
“He found you?”
“The apartment...my brother’s apartment. David didn’t know where he lived, or at least I thought he didn’t. I thought I was safe there.” Her voice quivers.
“Can you tell me what happened that night? We couldn’t find any signs of forced entry.”
Madalyn looks to me, a lone tear trailing down her cheek. I wipe it away with a gentle smile.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.” I slowly rub my palm up and down her spine, a show of comfort.
“I was alone that night, my siblings all at work. I decided to order some food. When I heard the knock on the door, I looked through the peephole and saw who I thought was the delivery driver.”
“What do you mean, who you thought?” asks Officer Morris.
“I couldn’t see his face, but he was wearing the restaurant’s hat and had a bag of food in his hand.”
Nodding, he writes something down and gestures for her to continue.
Madalyn tells them everything. She never wavers. Never backs down. She tells them every word he said, every hit she took, how she tried to fight to keep her baby safe. My anger grows as I listen to her recount how he believed her to be pregnant with my baby. She explains how she tried to get away, but he pulled a gun on her.
“All I remember is the loud bang and the pain. It was excruciating. Then another bang and sirens. I thought I heard another shot, but the doctor said I only got shot twice, so maybe he missed. Or maybe I was mistaken, I was pretty out of it at that point.” Madalyn shrugs, wiping the tears that escaped during her explanation. “I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up here in the hospital.”
“You’re an incredibly strong woman, Madalyn.” Officer Bartlett smiles at her. “Your story matches the evidence we found and answered a couple of unknowns. It’s an open and shut case, so I feel comfortable telling you the rest.”