by Shayne Ford
I wish so many things, and none of them can happen, because it’s too late for anything good to come my way.
I root myself into her, and we come together as if we’re fighting for our lives, and in a sense we do.
She’s throbbing and shuddering, her core filled with my release. We’ve never been so close and yet we’ve never been so far apart.
A few moments later, I pull away, close my jeans and collect my shirt.
Still braced against the wall, she catches her breath. I take in her beautiful body, the image floating empty in my mind, and then I lean closer to her and murmur, my voice rolling cold in her ear.
“I wasn’t fucking then, Layla, but now I do, and I no longer have a place for you in my life...”
She crashes on the floor, sobbing as I stride away.
“You know your way out...” I throw over my shoulder, my voice filled with ice, and then I vanish out the door.
14
There were a few painful moments in my life.
Gut wrenching, heart crushing moments. None of them come close to this. Abandoning her in that room feels like leaving my bleeding heart on that floor.
I walk along the hallway, tormented, my heart screaming inside. I’m not gonna listen to it. I’ve done in the past, and what good was it?
I hope she leaves.
Either way, I’m not walking back there. I need to call Steve. Climbing down the stairs, I fumble for my phone when reality hits me.
Fucking shit. I left it in the room. I crush a curse between my teeth. No way in hell, I’m going back.
Few steps later, I halt. Maybe I should go back. She must’ve left by now.
I turn around, stride across the corridor, stop and listen. There’s only silence. I push the door open and enter the room. Her dress lies on the floor.
She’s gone.
Numb, I stare at the mess. A muffled sound comes from somewhere under the bed. I make a few steps, trying to locate the source. Another phone goes off in the corner. I steer away from the bed and pick up Layla’s phone.
Steve’s name flashes on the screen.
“Layla??” he shouts, traffic noise filling the background.
“It’s me. Where the fuck are you?” I ask, still looking for my phone.
“What did you do to her, River??” he bursts out, his anger and frustration hammering me. “She fucking ran away. What the fuck did you do to her?” he barks at me again, and I turn to stone. A sickening feeling explodes in my chest. “Oh, fuck! She’s gonna hit someone, ” he says, and shivers rush down my back.
As I try to make sense of his words, my pain frees itself from under the thick frost wrapped around my heart, dragging more emotions over me. They’re good and bad, and some are horrible.
It’s sorrow and regret, and then it’s the one emotion I had missed the most. It’s the longing for her. And it’s warmth that fills my heart, and then I realize...
I still love her with all my heart. I always did, and I always will. I loved her when she was mine, and I loved her when I thought I’d lost her. She came back to me, full of love, and I couldn’t even give her a chance to explain. Suddenly, it dawns on me what I just did.
Clutching bloodless fingers on the phone, I’m finally able to unclench my jaw and mutter.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“She ran out of the hotel, and I tried to stop her, but she got away. She’s in her car, speeding, and she’s heading for the highway...”
“Can you see her?”
“She’s few cars ahead, driving erratically. I hope the cops get to her before she does something stupid...”
I kneel down, pick up my phone from under the bed, and fly out the door. I climb down a few stairs at the time, dash out of the hotel and run to the parking lot. I hop in one of the SUVs, start the ignition, pull back, and swerve the car hard toward the street.
“Why is she in a car, Steve? Isn’t she staying at the hotel?”
There’s static, some background noise. I fear something bad.
“Steve?”
“She moved to LA. She leaves few streets down from you.”
“What?!”
His words punch me in my stomach.
I step on the gas, cross over into the opposite lane, and swerving my way through incoming cars, I rush to catch them.
They can’t be far.
I see the highway ramp in the distance, the traffic lights shifting right before the entrance. They turn red, and the traffic comes to a halt.
I spot Steve’s SUV in line.
“Where is she??”
“The white car. Don’t push her, River. Don’t push her. She’s too close to the highway, and we might lose her. Let’s box her in.”
I get ahead of Steve and dart to the front of the line. The moment the light flips green, she pulls out, trying to outstrip everybody else, and cuts me off. I slam the brakes hard, barely avoiding her.
She veers and sneaks by me, driving straight to the ramp.
“Fuck!!!”
My fist hits the wheel as Steve shouts at me.
“Keep your distance, River... She’ll only speed up.”
He pulls right behind me as my eyes train on her car. She’s right in front of me. I flick my lights several times, but she doesn’t slow down. I hit the brakes and give her space, hoping that she’d slow down, but it makes no damn difference.
She enters the highway at full speed.
I curse, and growl, almost losing my mind.
“She doesn’t fucking stop!”
“Let her go... We’ll get her on the highway.”
Steve’s voice sounds like a reverb, his words now looping in my mind. I can’t let her go. I’ve done it once, and here I am, living to regret it.
As I watch her propelling her car onto that path of concrete, a lump forms in my throat. She’s gonna die. She wants to die.
I know it. I can feel it. She drives to her death.
That’s why she took the highway. That’s why she pulled away from Steve. I killed her heart and crushed her hope. There’s nothing else to hold her back.
I have to stop her, or I might die with her.
We get in a straight line, and she shoots right ahead. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a semi-trailer truck rolling parallel with me. She’s close to the truck’s speed, but there’s no room to get ahead.
I pray she slows down. She doesn’t. I hear the truck’s horn and then the screeching noise of the tearing tires.
The driver hits the brakes ahead of time, seeing what I see. She’s not going to make a clean entrance. Even slowing down, the truck closes the angle fast, set on a collision course with her. She doesn’t stop, and my heart stops for a moment as it all becomes surreal.
“She’s gonna die...” I murmur, my voice trailing off.
“She’s not gonna die,” Steve barks.
We both know it’s not the truth.
“Yes, she will. She’s going to die in front of my eyes...”
I watch the unfolding of the next few moments in eerily slow motion, my eyes filling with tears.
I can’t utter words, and I can’t take my eyes of that splash of glimmering white.
I can’t fathom that these are her last moments, and that I pushed her into that dark place. I broke her, and now she’s running to her death, and there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
What have I done?
Lights become a blur...
I grip the wheel and slam the brakes, bracing myself. I hear Steve’s voice in the background, but I can’t make out the words he’s saying. All I do is register the last of her. And then I hear the blow. The splash of white twirling, hitting the concrete barrier, and skidding away, then getting rammed by the truck the second time.
I can’t breathe.
“It’s done,” I say, my voice shot.
The truck finally pulls to a stop as we enter the highway, the smell of peeling tires filling the air.
We pull ahe
ad of the semi-trailer and the wrecked car. I put the hazard lights on, come to a full stop and bolt out. Steve calls the cops and an ambulance.
Cars swish by.
The back of her car is smashed badly. The sides are dented. I pull the door open. Crumpled in her seat, unconscious, she looks so small, and fragile.
I hover over her and feel her breath on my lips. There’s no blood on her body, but that doesn’t mean a thing.
Her hair is still sweaty and tousled, the way she got out of my hands. Her coat falls open, the sight of her naked body bearing the signs of me having her bludgeons my heart.
Her skin is still flushed, the red marks of my teeth on her neck and her shoulder branding her skin. Her breasts are swollen, the smell of me drifting from between her legs.
The image enters my brain, turning my heart into a pile of ashes. All those promises I’ve made to her were just another empty nothing.
A different image of her comes to mind as I remember her, looking at me lovingly, happy and warm. And then that winter night when she was asking me about what she had always known was bound to happen.
In the end, I let her fall and couldn’t stop her.
I cover her body.
Dark smudges trail down her face, her cheeks stained with tears. I pull her hair back and check her neck, and then I notice the expression imprinted on her face.
Peace and relief cast a glow over her features, and death enters my blood as I read her last thoughts on her face. Fighting my tears back, I put my arms under her.
“Don’t touch her!” Steve shouts, and I pull back.
He checks her body for visible injuries, fractures, bruises, blood, then her pupils, her pulse. I grab his shoulder.
“I don’t want to wait. I have to get her to the hospital.”
“She’s in shock,” he says, the somberness in his voice confirming my worst fears.
I stretch a blanket on the ground, and then we slowly pull her out. We wrap her in the blanket, and I lift her in my arms. I slide in the back of Steve’s car, holding her as if I carry my heart. The fact that she’s with me, and still drawing breath, gives me hope.
As soon as he pulls off the highway, Steve starts making calls. Minutes later we enter the ER.
“She’s in surgery,” Steve says, looking at me.
His eyes are hazy with sadness, his cheeks hollow, and his face washed with concern.
“She’s in critical condition...” he adds.
I bury my face in my hands.
He takes a seat next to me and pats me on my shoulder.
“Listen, we’ve done everything we could. It’s no longer in our hands. It’s really up to her now. Kyle’s the best trauma surgeon I know,” he says, with a reassuring voice.
Slowly, I shake my head, having a hard time to unclench my jaws and speak.
“She doesn’t want to live, Steve. That’s why you couldn’t catch her. That’s why she didn’t stop,” I say quietly, wrestling with the words. “I don’t want her to die. She’s here because of me... I put her in that speeding car.”
He rests his hand on my shoulder.
“Maybe she’ll want to live, now.”
“You don’t know her.”
“Listen... I don’t know what happened in that room, but whatever it was, there’s no way you could’ve known it would end like this...” he says. “I feel bad that I brought her to you. None of this would have happened, had I not taken her there.”
His eyes glint with guilt and sorrow. I can tell she holds a special place in his heart, perhaps because she reminds him of the woman he once loved and lost.
It hurts me to admit he would’ve been a better man for her. If it weren't for him, she would’ve slipped away. Chances are, she would’ve been dead by now. He always kept an eye on her, but that should’ve been my role.
“It’s not your fault... I’m the only one responsible. What I did to her in that room is one of the worst things a man can do to a woman. I didn’t know it would end like this, but I knew I wanted her to feel my pain.”
I pause, a few moments of silence slipping by.
“I don’t know how to live with this... if she doesn’t make it...”
“She’ll make it. At least you had the chance to do something for her.”
The doors swing open, and we bolt upright. A man wearing scrubs walks through.
He must be Kyle. He’s young, about our age, maybe older. He shoots us a straight glance, and then his eyes come to me.
I hold his gaze, and brace for the worst.
“She’s stable now,” he says, and I let out a quiet exhale. “But we almost lost her. She went into cardiac arrest. It’s a miracle she pulled through.”
He swings his gaze to Steve and then back to me.
“The next few hours are critical. She’s young and strong, and unless something unforeseen happens, she has a good chance to recover fully.”
He pauses briefly, and we wait for him to speak again.
“She’ll need a psychiatric evaluation later on, and possibly a sexual assault exam if she consents to one,” he says, and his words slash me like swords.
This is more than simply a medical update. It’s also the man talking, and he’s talking to me for a reason. I keep my face straight, but I can’t stop the emotion from flooding my eyes.
“I understand,” I say, my voice faint in my throat.
He searches my eyes for a moment, and once he made sure I got the message, he looks at Steve.
“Does she have any family?”
“I’ll find out if she does,” I say before Steve has the chance to speak. My voice is back, stronger, more confident. “I’ll give my contact information for now.”
“Good. Someone will be with you shortly.”
He stretches his arm, and I extend mine. We shake hands firmly.
“Thank you, Kyle.”
He nods shortly, meeting my gaze briefly before he vanishes through the door.
We go back to the waiting area.
“You can go home,” I say.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he says, sinking into a chair.
I check the time. It’s morning, almost seven. A medical clerk approaches me. I fill out the paperwork and give it back to her, and then I pull Layla’s phone from my pocket and sift through her numbers.
I tap the screen and call Nora.
She answers, her voice filled with joy.
“Hey, there. Where are you? Must’ve been quite the night,” she says, and my heart sinks.
“Layla??”
“It’s me. River,” I say, my voice dark and somber.
“River?! What happened? Where’s Layla?” she asks, still gleeful and then she goes quiet.
I sense her tension as if it’s mine.
“She’s... um... She’s in the hospital. She was in a car accident. ”
“Is she okay?” she asks, tears lacing her voice.
“She’s in stable condition. We’re waiting for the updates.”
“What hospital? How can I get there?”
“Where are you?”
She pauses for a moment.
“I’m in LA, at Layla’s apartment. Is it far?” she says, hesitant.
I glance at Steve.
“It’s not far. Steve will pick you up.”
I hand him the phone, and he gets the address before he gives it back to me and walks out of the waiting room.
I crash into the chair.
A small hand grips my shoulder, a soft voice rolling in my ears.
“Mr. Steel?”
I look up. A fresh face smiles at me.
“She’s in a patient unit now. You can see her,” the nurse says and spins around.
We walk down a hallway, enter a different room, and she leads me to the third unit on the right before she walks to a nurse station nearby.
I glance through the glass wall and step into the room. Electronic beeping drips into the silence. Hooked at the monitoring unit, she’s unconscious an
d pale, her beauty still shining through.
I sit by her side, take her soft hand in mine and bury my face in her palm.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry...”
As I say the words, my heart squirms in pain, crushed by regret. How I wish I could undo everything. I listen to the beeping sound, humble and thankful to hear the beating of her heart.
It’s all that matters now. Even if her heart will never beat for me again, and her eyes will never glint for me again, and I’ll never taste her kiss again, all I want is to see her live and well.
I pushed her to her death, and by doing so I pushed her out of my life. The only reason I can be here with her right now, is because she doesn’t know I’m here. Once she regains her conscience, she’ll never want me back.
Our story no longer has a future, only a distant past.
I bend over her and breathe on her lips.
“I love you, Layla. I always will, baby.”
I kiss her softly and exit the room.
15
“Hey!”
I turn my head and look up. Nora places two cups of coffee on the table, walks around, pulls a chair out and takes a seat in front of me.
“Thank you. You shouldn’t have bothered...” I mutter absently.
We lock eyes briefly before I shift my gaze to the window and stare vacantly at the droves of people rushing from one medical building to another.
Doctors, nurses, all kinds of medical personnel. There are fewer people in the cafeteria now than an hour ago. Most of them have already had their breakfast and rushed to their jobs.
“I’m so sorry...” she says quietly.
I swing my eyes back to her. Dark circles stretch around her eyes. She studies me for a moment, her eyes soft, glinting with tears.
“I’m sorry for what happened. I wish I kept my mouth shut.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was the one who told her about that last song you wrote,” she mutters. “I thought those words carried a message or something. I always thought they were about her.”
Her voice breaks. I smile, bitter.
“They were... are about her,” I say.