Farm Girl Meets Bad Boy (#1)

Chapter Thirty-Five

“She wouldn’t let go of his hand.” The voice is foreign, and I can’t place it. I can’t even place where I am right now. My eyes are closed, and everything comes back to me in flashbacks. I can’t control them, as they play out as if I’m watching scenes from a movie.

Ocean stands in front of me, only a few feet away in the barn. She stares down at the mangled mess of my body next to Emery’s. She’s the only thing I can see clearly, as the bright, white light behind her is blinding. Her right hand is held out towards me, waiting for me to take it. I’m much too far to even attempt to reach it, but I know what it means if I try. Then, I will be accepting my death. The light is warm and intriguing, and Ocean calls for me to join her. I start to remove my hand from Emery’s, when I swear I feel him squeeze it.

I’m moving. I don’t know how, but I am. I hear Silver and Patch neighing, but I don’t know where from. My right hand twitches, and I can’t help but notice the missing puzzle piece of my attachment to Emery. I scream his name as loud as I can before something pinches my arm. Then, I’m out cold.

I’m lying down and moving again. Everything is white, except when people I can’t place stand over me. The pain is agonizing, and the yelling stresses me. I hear my mother crying, and my father yelling. Mary’s voice cuts through somewhere, as my fingers still twitch. All I can think about is Emery as I fade away yet again.

“She’s awake.” I can’t see the face of the person who leans over me. They move a bright, white light in front of my face and then place something over my mouth. I’m forced to inhale the substance, and I slowly drift off into a place where I can’t even think. Eventually I fall asleep.

I’m back in the present. Someone’s holding my right hand tightly, and my eyes fly open. I expect to see Emery lying beside me, but the room before me is not one I know. My eyes meet my mother’s, which are red and teary.

“River,” she says, leaning over me and gently wrapping me in a hug. There’s a nurse to my left, and my parents to my right. I look down at the blanket covering me and realize I’m in the hospital. I know I should be happy to see me parents, and be alive, but I’m distracted.

Slowly, I lift up the sheets. Then, I lift up my hospital shirt. I gasp. All around my stomach is white bandages. What had happened in the barn was real and not just a bad dream.

“Where’s Emery?” I yell, feeling fear rush over me. “Where is he?”

The nurse looks concerned but I ignore her disapproving glance. I look back between my mother and father. Dad won’t meet my eyes, and when Mom does, I know things aren’t good. My voice is filled with hurt and anger as I repeat my question. It’s loud in the quiet room, but I can’t lower it.

“River, honey,” my mother brushes my hair out of my eyes. I grab her hand to stop her and give her the family look. “Emery…”She trails off and I drop her hand. “He’s not doing so well.”

“What?” I snap, jerking up in my bed. “Where is he?”

My father walks over and places a hand on my right leg. “I know you want to go see him, but you were just in surgery, River. So was he. He’s just down the hall but you can’t move right now.” He gives me a sad smile but his words mean nothing to me. “You barely made it out alive. The bullet missed all of your organs, thank god.”

Everything my parents say isn’t the words I want to hear. Maybe another day I’ll care about how I’m alive, but right now, all I care about is Emery. I know I’m not allowed to leave the room regardless of what I want, so I decide to get rid of my parents.

“I’m thirsty,” I mumble to my mom, who looks to the nurse. The nurse nods and leaves. Then there were two.

“Mom, can you go ask a doctor how long I’m in here for, and when I can go see Emery?” She gives me a look that says don’t push your luck. “Please? It would make me happy.” She looks to my dad, who shrugs. Sighing, she stands up, kisses my forehead and leaves. Then, there is one.

“I’m cold,” I pretend to shiver and my dad comes over to pull the blankets up higher. I have always been a good kid. Now, in my time of ‘need,’ my parents can’t say no to me. Maybe my boring life finally paid off after all.

“Want more blankets, sweetie?” This is too easy. I nod and he pats my leg before leaving. Now, it’s time for the hard part. I don’t know how long I’ve been in the hospital, but all my limbs feel asleep. It takes me a minute to get my legs over the side of the bed, and I know my time limit is ticking away before I get caught.

My stomach kills as I move around. I’m just stepping off the bed when I realize that there’s an IV in my arm. Now, I’ve never minded needles before. But the idea of ripping out my own doesn’t sound too fun.

First, I pull off the tape that holds it in place. It doesn’t hurt, but pinches slightly. I grab the needle between two fingers, and look up at the ceiling. I bite my tongue to hold in the scream that’s sure to come. Taking a deep breath, I rip it out. It hangs almost to the floor, only being held up by the tube to the bag full of fluid.

With shaky legs I start to walk towards the door of my room. I peer out the opening, and make sure the coast is clear. I’m in the recovery hall I’m pretty sure, so it’s quiet, and most doctors are in rooms with patients. My dad had said Emery is just down the hall but the question is where. There are only a few rooms that have doors, like mine, and the rest are windows to see inside. Knowing Emery is in serious condition, I skip the secluded rooms and head towards the windowed ones.

My hand holds steady on the railing attached to the wall as I walk. My feet are cold as I step barefoot on the tile floor, but I don’t care. I don’t see Emery until I get to the third room.

What I see makes me gasp and brings fresh tears to my eyes. He lies under blankets, with machines, tubes and other medical supplies keeping him alive. No one sits in the room with him, because he has no one anymore. Not one family single member he grew up with remains.

I rush into the room, my stomach feeling wet. I look down at my hospital shirt, which once was pale green. Now it’s stained red. Turning around, I see a trail of small blood drops coming from it and where the needle was in my arm. The doctors and my parents would find me in a second.

“Emery,” I murmur, holding in the sobs. I slowly walk towards him, as he lies with closed eyes. It’s clear that he’s on life support, and he’s simply not sleeping. He wears no hospital shirt, but instead bandages that intertwine with tubes that connect him to machines. They beep every second, showing his heart is beating, but not on its own.

With a shaky hand, I brush the dark hair out of his eyes. I expect him to jump out of bed, and tackle me to the ground like he had done many times before, but nothing happens. As awful as it was, I wish that it would happen again. Instead his chest rises and slowly falls, and his eyes remain closed.

“Oh Emery,” I cry, taking his left hand in my right. Our intertwined fingers finally give me hope to hold onto. I’ve been grasping for them ever since the barn. Suddenly, the pain sets in and I start to feel weak as a result of not taking it easy after surgery.

“River!” I slowly turn my head sideways to see my nurse standing in the doorway, with a shocked looking doctor behind her. I have no time to say anything, or even turn back to Emery, as my legs collapse underneath me. I feel arms trying to stand me up as I stare at the blood on the floor. I start screaming uncontrollably in my blacking out haze as I remember the blood inside of the barn.

My eyes fall on Emery, whose hand I still clench tightly when I realize that one single significant noise is missing in this chaos. It’s the only thing I think of before I black out. Emery’s heart-rate monitor is no longer beeping. His heart has stopped.