“Oh, she’d been mine before Harold was on her radar. She’d been my ally, my defender, and friend. She turned her back on me the moment she left school with him. He took her from me and filled her head with lies.”
“What lies?” If I keep him talking, someone might come. Two gunshots are sure to raise alarms.
“That what we had wasn’t love,” he spits. “I took care of her. She took care of me. She stuck up for me when the jocks pushed me in the halls, and I helped her study for her finals. After I dragged her from a party, she said she loved me, and we sealed our love that night. None of that was a lie, but the next day everything changed.” He points the gun at me. “Harold stole her, and now I’m going to steal something from you for keeping me from her as your father did.”
“Please.” Her voice is a whisper. Fuck, Emma, this is not the time, but she's not looking at me. “I have a family--”
Ger jerks as if he’d forgotten her. His eyes blaze as his fingers tangle in her hair, yanking her head back. He presses the gun so hard that the skin at her temple spiders away. She whimpers, tears roll down her cheeks.
The blood in my veins pumps that much harder. There is no more time left, and it is only this moment.
“I had that once--” He sounds like a deranged demon, guttural and unhinged, that lost his sanity millennia ago.
There's no telling what he will do. With one firm push of my good arm, I’m on my feet, and despite everything, my body bolts in their direction, but there is still space enough for him to see me coming. His features morph from anger to surprise then back again. Another shot goes off. I stagger, my knees hit hard on the carpeted floor. A shock wave of pain spreads like a damn breaking loose, unable to be contained as the room fills with Emma's screams.
All I can feel is pain, and it’s getting hard to breathe. Everything in my ears is coming through as a hum as if we're standing too close to loud machinery. The desire to shout and look above me disappears the moment I attempt either. Every time I blink, it becomes harder to keep my eyes open. It would be so easy to make this stop, to give in to the blackness trying to swallow up my vision. Instead, I am fighting, my body sweating under the pressure of it, and inside my head, I scream, ‘STAY THE FUCK AWAKE!’
Air whips my face, and the squeal of the hinges hit me before the sound of the door banging against the wall reaches my ears. Opening my eyes, I struggle to move when shouting erupts around me. Strength I didn’t know I had, has my hand coming from my side trying to reach towards where I hear Emma. Pain blinds me, blacking out, and when I come too, her hands grip into my shirt, her mouth next to my ear. I can’t make out her words, but I know it's her.
Guns are going off above us, the sound making me cringe, wishing I could cover Emma with my body. We’ve been through so much. How did I let us get here? I’m not strong enough to protect her.
I’ve spent so much time focusing on the things that I thought were important, the things that would help me when this situation came, and they all failed me. A shiver runs through my chilling body. My fist clenches as I drag another breath into my lungs. It feels like fire, and it sounds like a broken kazoo on the way out.
My eyes close. Behind them, I see all the things I could have done instead. Stayed at home, never leaving my family. Probably taken a walk and ran into Emma, starting my life in that white house sooner. Kids. Something seizes in my insides. I struggle to breathe again, every breath painful. When it came down to it, preparation helped, but I’d wasted my whole damn life on it.
Feeling a gust of air, my eyes come open.
Then I saw it, wedged between my past and my future, a small piece that connected the two. My life has no guarantee, I'm not sure if I'll even get out this time, but nothing at all is written in stone saying I would live in this constant state of unrest. I no longer have to live as if my past and future were the same things. I watch the life slip away from the man that has stained my last six years with grief, anxiety, and constant paranoia, slip away from his life. I hadn't felt what I thought I would.
There was no peace, no relief. His twisted enraged features are finally relaxing in the only one you're left with. He is simply another lifeless body, with nothing left to offer but another set of dead eyes to haunt me. He's not the only one waiting in the dark I acknowledge before it takes me. Revenge isn't sweet.
A low hum fills my ears, but as my hearing focuses, it’s no longer indistinguishable. Fuck, my throat hurts. Why is it so hard to swallow?
“No, you don’t understand. You need to take those handcuffs off.” Is that Emma?
When I can’t open my eyes, my hand comes up to discover why my limbs are so heavy, like a hundred pounds, but the effort to move them is for naught. Something stops them short. What’s going on? Breathing in, the smell of antiseptic greets me, and I can guess that I’m at a hospital. I’d spent enough time in one when I’d visited my mom.
“... not taking the risk.” That’s someone different, male, not a voice I recognize.
“Either way, he’s not awake yet, so there’s no reason for you to be here.” Hadn't I moved? Pressing down with my fingers, the thin fabric of the sheet, and the nylon underneath dents in making a light crisp rustle that hits my ears. My fingers freeze when a hand wraps around them, thin but with a strong grip and squeezes. Squeezing back, it’s good to know I wasn’t imagining my efforts.
“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”
“And what a job you’ve done so far.” Emma’s tone drips with sarcasm.
The guy's heavy feet move away, a draft preceding his exit. Emma sighs, and I try and turn my head in the direction, but something stops me. Frustration rises when I try to tell her that I’m here, but there is something stuck in my throat, and swallowing around it uncomfortable.
“Do you think he will come back anytime soon?” Mia? Shouldn’t she be in Minnesota with Daniel? How long have I been like this? She must be the one that has my hand.
"They have been circling like vultures. I give them an hour tops before one of them comes back.” Mia breathes out; it sounds like she’s rubbing her face, her reply muffled.
“How’s your head?” Mia asks.
“It’s fine now. Thanks. Most of it was superficial.”
“Yeah, my mom said as much.” Mom’s been here? So many fucking questions.
It’s quiet for so long that the room charges with tension. Whatever they’ve given me is starting to wear off, and the pain is becoming acute. I know it won’t be long before I beg sleep to take me.
Almost back to sleep, Mia clears her throat. "Why’d you leave?"
A weight presses on my chest. Mia grips my hand harder as we both wait for Emma’s answer.
"He saw himself as the villain, a guy that destroys the good and ruins everything in his path. He wasn't able to see the truth.”
“He’s always been self-absorbed.” Even without my sight, I know she’s smiling, and she squeezes my hand again, giving herself away.
Emma laughs. “He’s a guy.” And then they were both laughing at my expense. My eyes rolled behind my eyelids.
Another bout of silence before Emma starts to talk again. “To be honest, we both needed time. I was scared and not ready to face what I felt for him.” My heart stalls at the use of past tense. It’s because I couldn’t keep her safe. I’d let her nearly get raped and killed. I’m not worthy of her, and now she knows it too. I bet she’s only here because of her integrity, and once she discovers I’m alright, she’ll leave again.
“What are your intentions now? Not to be a bitch, but I’m the sole person that’s allowed to jerk this guy around unnecessarily.” I’m not sure how I was going to pay for it later, but right now, my sister is doing this for me.
“No offense ...” Emma stops as the door to the room opens.
“I’m back. Coffee?” My mom says to the room.
Fuck. What timing. An agreement breaks out, and Mia lets my hand go.
“Have the doctors been in since I’ve been
gone?” Mom asks.
“Nope,” Mia says.
“Emma, dear, have you taken a break?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m sure your family would like to see you.”
“That’s her way of kicking you out,” Mia says.
Mom gasps, “It isn’t at all.” But Mia and I know better. “Ignore my daughter. I just know if I were your mom, I’d want to see you.”
“My family knows where I am,” Emma says, and the room gets quiet. After another beat, she clears her throat, and the chair under her scrapes against the floor. “A quick visit won’t hurt, though. Will you …?” Her hand is cold as it glides into my hair.
“We’ll call you if anything changes,” Mom says. “We’ve got your number?”
“Mia has it,” Emma says the same time Mia says, “Yep.”
“Alright.” She whispers, and I don’t know how but I feel her gaze on me. There’s a part of me not ready to let her go. I never want to let her go, but if she’s only sticking around to make sure I’m alright, is it selfish of me to hold off?
Emma’s footsteps scuff the floor, her hand gliding down my arm. With my heart in my throat, my hand jerks up. This time, the force of it shakes the bed as I grip her wrist.
She gasps, “Liam?”
The noise coming around what's in my throat is a pitiful attempt to say her name. Even if she's going to leave, I’m done with avoidance. I’m done with wasting my time when I could be moving forward.
“Thank, Christ,” Mom squeaks out.
“On my God, Liam,” Emma says in a disjointed tone.
“I’ll get a nurse,” Mia says, and I hear the door as she leaves.
Mom’s hand is there, gripping my free one and squeezing so hard I’ll be lucky to feel it later, but I grip her back.
“You’re okay...” Emma’s forehead rests against my temple, and her sigh ruffles my hair.
The door opens, Emma straightens, and her hand disappears.
“Glad you’re awake, Mr. Marone.”
Her hands are warm against my wrist, and a beep comes from a machine to my left before it starts to filter the air to the blood pressure cuff that starts to inflate around my arm. “Need to check your vitals, and then we’ll get you more comfortable.”
Everyone seems to hold their breath as the nurse does her job. “This is going to hurt, but I have to do it slowly, or I’ll take an eyebrow.” Her hand is on one of my cheeks, and I come to realize why I couldn’t open my eyes. She nicks my cheek as she digs at the tape with her nail. “Sorry.” She says, but that’s nothing compared to the tape coming away from my eyebrow. Mom’s hand is like a vice as if it’s happening to her and not me. “Try to relax your face, less of the hair will come off.” Easier said than done though, as the tape comes away without too many hairs missing, according to her. “This one will go easier; they did a better job with the gauze.”
“Okay, you can open your eyes.”
I only get them open a slit before I shut them again. So bright!
As I work on getting my eyes to adjust, the nurse starts to talk again. “When you went into surgery, we had to intubate you; I’m sure you’ve noticed it already. Your throat will be sore for the next twelve to twenty-four hours after the doctor says to remove it.” Lines appear around warm brown eyes as the nurse gives me a smile.
“You can’t remove it?” Mom asks.
“Not without the doctor saying so. I’ve already called her, and she will be up soon. But I can take off the cuffs as long as you don’t try to pull it out, okay?”
I try and nod, but my head still won’t move.
The nurse laughs. “Oops, sorry.” Velcro releases next to my ears, and pressure that I hadn't even felt until now, releases from my chin and forehead. “You can move a bit more now, but don’t overdo it; it will hurt your esophagus.”
The ability to move my head even limited is a relief. My mom comes into view; her smile wobbles on her face, tears in danger of falling. Her hand comes up and touches my cheek. Mia shifts on her feet next to where mom is sitting with a lopsided smile, rolling her eyes.
“You’re a dick for worrying everyone,” she says. Mom’s hand drops from my cheek so she can twist to look at Mia. They start to argue, but my eyes are already traveling around the room again.
That’s when I see her, in the corner by the door out of the way, and neither of us blink. Her face is bruised and swollen in some places around the bandages. I can’t breathe. Superficial my ass, one of her eyes is almost closed from the swelling, and yet she gives me a smile that can only be considered as soft. How can she look at me like that? After what I’ve done, she shouldn’t even be here.
The door opens, and I reluctantly look away from Emma to find a woman coming through in scrubs. Her brown hair in a no-nonsense bun high atop her head, “Nurse Becky, you can go ahead and take that out. He’s out of danger.”
Becky does a few things above me, and then she’s in my field of vision. “The trick is to take a deep breath in and cough when you release your breath. Ready?”
My heart speeds up as I nod and take a deep breath. Coughing, I feel every inch of the tube coming up as she pulls it out. I have a deeper appreciation for anyone that can deepthroat.
Even after it’s taken out, I continue to cough for a few seconds. “Thanks.” The word scratches its way up, my throat angry with the escape. "My hands?" I pull against the restraints.
"Mr. Marone, you've sustained some serious injuries. You came in with a brain bleed and two bullet wounds. The one in your shoulder didn't hit any major arteries, but the one in your upper chest caused some serious damage. We had to open your chest cavity.”
Looking down, all I see is massive amounts of blankets hiding the evidence. The movement makes my skin tight, and pain trickles past the drugs that still linger in my system.
“Nurse, please put in an order for another twenty milligrams of fentanyl.” She doesn’t skip a beat as she continues. “The bullet nicked your rib, and fragments of it went into your lung. By the time we got in to take a look, it had managed to make confetti.” She says this with a statue face frozen in indifference. Farthest thing from a party on both counts. "We did what we could, but we had to perform a partial pneumonectomy in the end on your left lung."
“What--?”
Mom pats our hands that are gripping each other before she answers. “They had to remove a portion of your lung.”
I only have half of one of my lungs? Taking a deep breath in, there’s a sharp pain in my chest, but not one I can pin down. My whole upper body is screaming at me as it fills up, and when I let the breath go, it comes out in a coughing fit, which is more pain than I have ever felt in my life. Jesus, is this how it will be from now on?
“Will I …?”
“Live a normal life?” The doctor asks, and when I nod, she continues. “Yes, you’ll be here under observation for another week and a half, but after you’ve been released, most should go back to normal.”
“Most…?” Swallowing, I wince at the pain.
“You don’t have the lung capacity that you had before. You’ll get out of breath more often, being exposed to some illnesses will have a longer recovery time, and you’ll have a closer relationship with your family doctor. We’ll keep a close eye on you while you’re here to be sure you don’t develop any complications.” Her gaze strays away from me, and she moves towards one of the cabinets and opens it, then opens another. I look over at Emma, but she’s watching the good doctor too. My stomach starts to roil at the bruises spanning her neck I hadn’t noticed before.
With the doctor finding what she needs, her movement towards me recaptures my attention. She places a plastic tower about as tall as my palm, with a blue tube and white mouthpiece. “This breathing treatment will be your new best friend. You’re going to hate it.” This lady's made of granite. If I had to guess, all that restraint here, she’s wild in bed. “It’ll lower your chance of infection and help rebuild some strength into your lun
gs.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow around mid-afternoon if you have any questions.”
“My restraints?”
She looks at my hands as I pull them again from the bed rails. “The police have asked for them to stay on until they have a chance to talk with you. Until tomorrow.” Becky follows the sexually pent-up doctor out.
As soon as the door click shuts, my mom and sister start in on the questions, but my attention is elsewhere because I have questions too.
"Can you give us a minute?"
Emma's eyes grow, and she shakes her head, her arms moving around like a broken windmill out of control. If someone were to walk by, they would lose their head. "I can wait until you've had some time with your family."
Mia clears her throat, but I cut her off. “They will understand if I need a few minutes with you, right?” Tilting my head, I give them a side glance.
Mom looks between the two of us and then rests on my face before she starts nodding. My sister points a finger at me. “Doesn't mean you’re off the hook.”
“Consider me at the end of your line. Plus, there are things our family needs to discuss too.” My eyes drift to mom, and her eyes shift away from me. She stands and walks around Emma, and Mia signals she’s got her eyes on me before following my mom out.
We wait until the door clicks shut, the air stills around us, and neither of us ready to break the stillness of the moment. Yet, as I look at her bruises again, there’s no way I can stay silent anymore.
“I’m sorry.”
Her brows furrow. “For what?”
“For what they did to you,” I explain.
“That wasn’t--”
“Also, for not protecting you from them.”
“Liam--”
“Give me a second.” Coughing around my words, it takes me a few seconds to regain my breath. “There’s much I need to say.”
“So do I.” She looks down; she’s tugging her sleeve.
My chest aches. “That’s why I need to get this all out now. I don’t have the time.”
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