Open When...(Paul Walker Fanfiction)

Letter #1: Open When...You Receive These

December 1st, 2013 (7 weeks, 6 days)

As I anxiously pace from wall to wall in the ICU waiting room, the rambling thoughts in my head won't seem to stop. My last words to Paul were that I wanted a divorce. God, how could I have said that? A divorce is the last thing I would ever want. I love my husband so damn much. His last thought before the crash must've been how I hated him.

My knees start to wobble, but I balance myself on the armrest of one of the chairs. I don't think that I have eaten since lunch yesterday at the charity event.

The event had gone so well until Paul and Roger crashed. The vivid memory of running up to the car and trying to get him out makes me double over in pain. I failed him. I couldn't get him out.

Luckily, amidst my grief while one man pulled me away, one of Paul's ROWW volunteers pulled him out of the wreckage. They got Roger out too, but Callie told me that he was already gone.

The hours between the wreck and Callie telling me about Paul is all just a blur. I don't remember anything. If Callie wasn't at the house with me, I would've believed that my husband had left this Earth.

Paul sustained several injuries, most of which I'm not fully aware of. He was in surgery from the moment he got to the hospital to close to night time. Callie said that I was so in shock that she had to bring me home.

I still am in shock, really. Here I am, sitting in the waiting room, waiting for visiting hours to start, and waiting for a doctor to tell me how my husband is. I need him to be okay. There's no way that I can go about life without him, especially when I'd have to raise four kids.

My head rests on my right hand while my left hand rubs my stomach. I've been pregnant three times before this, but for some reason, I feel a deeper connection to this baby. Maybe it's the fact that I'd never thought that I would have him or her, or maybe it's because this child will need twice the love if their father doesn't make it.

Someone sits down beside me, but I simply do not have the strength to look up to see who it is. Judging by the painted fingernails of the hand that's holding a coffee out toward me, I would say it's Callie.

"You look like you could use this," Callie whispers.

I manage to shake my head, but she is persistent in giving it to me. "I'm not supposed to drink caffeine, Callie." I find the strength to look up at her, but not enough strength to smile or use any facial expression. "I'm pregnant."

At first, a smile appears, then her face falls. "Did Paul know?"

Yes, he did, and he didn't even want the baby, my subconscious answers. We fought over a life we made together, but now Paul might now ever get to see that life. A baby he didn't even want, he might not even get. The irony isn't even remotely amusing. "Yeah, he knew. He wasn't happy. He wanted me to have an abortion and I said no. That's why we fought before he..." I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

She takes the coffee and puts it on the side table next to her. Instead of saying anything else, she rubs my back. Silence is probably best at the moment. It leaves me with my thoughts, but at least I can constantly remind myself how much of a horrible person I am. I deserve to be told that.

My stomach grumbling fills the silence in the room, and I can't help but laugh. Baby Walker is hungry, and that makes me feel bad too. I'm a bad person and a bad mother for depriving him or her from food. A sigh makes its way past my lips.

"How about we go to the cafeteria?" Callie suggests. "You need to get some food in you for the baby."

"I'm not eating until I see Paul," I simply tell her.