Mr. Whoever You Are

Chapter 30

Tim POV: 

I sit in her hospital room, as they try to address how much of her brain is mush. I watch, as her eyes stare at me, completely ignoring their request to follow the light of their small flashlight. They repeat their request a couple dozen times, before she processes their words, and obeys. 

"Follow with your eyes only. Try to keep your head still." They order, but she still follows with her head for most of the exercise. She breathes slowly, her eyes and cheeks visibly swollen as she tries to figure out what she's doing wrong. My chest hurts, as she looks over to me, waiting for me to show her what she's doing wrong. I'm not allowed to help her. 

"Faith, can you squeeze my finger?" The female nurse asks. Faith stares at her, as she holds up her index finger. She tries to process it, but can't. I take a deep breath, trying not to let myself fall to pieces. She doesn't understand half of what we say. Her brain just takes things in, and tears apart the information, leaving her to try and fit the pieces back together. 

"Faith, can you point to the door?" The male nurse asks. Faith looks over at me, and lets out a whimper, before she begins to cry. I bite my lip, knowing I'm not supposed to talk while they're working with her. Hell, I shouldn't even be in the room, but her focus is much worse when I'm away, if you could believe it. I can see the utter confusion in her eyes, as she looks back at them. "Point to the door." He repeats. She narrows her eyes, and looks at the door, only picking up part of the order. 

"The fact that her heart didn't burst amazes me. The amount of cocaine and heroin in her system should've caused her heart to give out almost immediately." Her doctors says, as I shut my eyes. I don't understand it at all. She saw what happened to me when I was exposed to that combination. Why the hell would she want to go out like that? 

I'm mad, and upset, and sad... I don't know exactly what I'm feeling, but it's a good mix of all of the prior. She was so close to dying, that I was preparing myself for losing her when I got the news that she was alive. She can't speak, as far as we know, and her motor skills are limited. She can hear us, but she clearly can't understand us. 

She constantly looks to me for answers, which kills me inside. I don't know exactly why, but she seems to understand me the most out of everyone, even though most of the time she's still confused. I can tell she has something to say, but she hasn't said a thing. She's released whimpers and a groan or two, leading us to believe she can't talk. 

I'm mad... yes... because I knew if I were in her condition after I overdosed, I'd want to be dead. I'm mad because even after seeing me go through it, she thought that that would be the proper way to take herself out. 

I sit beside her once more, feeling her gaze fall upon me. She sits up in bed, and looks around the room a bit between staring at me. I sit back, leaning my head on the back of the uncomfortable wooden chair, and cross my arms in front of me, attempting to sleep a bit. 

"Frank." She releases. I lift my head up, and stare at her, as she taps her arm repeatedly. "Frank." She repeats. I watch her, a little confused as to if she's calling me Frank, or if she's trying to tell me something. 

"What, baby?" I ask. She points to the scar from where the drugs entered. 

"Frank." She says firmly. I cringe, still a little doubtful that's what she means. 

"Are you saying Frank overdosed you?" I ask. She stares, confused by the long sentence. I bite my lip, and try to think of how to cut it down. "Frank drugged you?" I try. She stares once more, before nodding slowly. 

Three Weeks Later 

"We are going to try a medication that might help her focus a bit. To her advantage, the part of her brain which processes information is not completely destroyed, just a little jumbled." Her doctor tries to reassure me. Faith is progressing, slowly. It takes a lot more to dishearten her now. "The drugs acted faster, but had less overall time in the brain than you did. That's been her saving grace." He adds, as I watch her through the window. Her brown hair is growing back a bit darker than before. I nod slowly, feeling emotionally exhausted. A month ago today is when I found her lying on the floor of her apartment...

Looking at her feels different... I've never felt so sick, and helpless in my life. I saw the life leave her... I pled, and begged, offering my own life to save hers... I'd give my life now if it'd make her better. 

I've been trying to talk to her about if Frank did it, but she gets really tired early into the conversation, leaving me with not much additional information. I'd kill him... If he did it. Until now, he's always made sure she'd survive, leaving me mortified. If he wanted to, he could kill her. I have no doubt that he could kill her and not feel an ounce of remorse. He has the ability, the cash, the resources, and the brazen hatred for her to actually do it, which is horrifying.