"Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad!
only do not leave me in this abyss,
where I cannot find you!
Oh, God! it is unutterable!
I can not live without my life!
I can not live without my soul!"
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
WYATT
The monitor's repetitive beeps became so common of me to hear and tune out, I almost hadn't noticed when Liv appeared the next morning with a subtle knock on the door and a set of clean clothes for me.
It has been thirteen long hours. The first hour was transporting her blood-soaked declining body to the hospital. I couldn't stand the thought of losing her as I waited for an ambulance to show- so Sean drove, as I held her body in the backseat. He drove through stop signs, and over sidewalks as the sirens blared. But I couldn't hear them. I couldn't hear anything other than my heart's loud thumbs rapidly pumping in my head. I only saw the blue lights as it reflected off of surrounding buildings.
The pure adrenaline reminded me of Afghanistan.
The possibility of losing her sent me in an episode. It's all a bur, I can't remember a lot of what happen or the actions I took, like physically carrying her away from the fire or getting in the car. It's all a daze. But I remember keeping my fingers to her neck constantly checking for a pulse. I remember her coding in my arms, quickly laying her flat as I started chest compressions, I remember watching blood mist in the air in slow motion before the warm liquid speckled my face as I pushed in her chest for the first time, I felt her ribs crack under my palms. Not noticing my strength from the adrenaline that fueled from my fear of losing her. I remember administering CPR for the second time before the tires screeched to a stop at the Emergency entry way under the awning strictly reserved for first responders. The hospital staff rushed to the car pulling her from my hands.
The next two hours was spent watching doctors and nurses pinching off bleeds, stabilizing Abbie before transferring her to the OR for immediate surgery. And the fourth- The fourth was talking to the doctor.
"She is stabilized for now; the bullet hit her clavicle, shattering it as it entered the left side of her upper chest, the bullet along with some shards of bone damaged some lung tissue and nicked a major blood vessel; Since the bone is collapsed it is currently shifted inward. This is causing extra pressure as she breathes. And three of her rib bones were broken during compressions."
"That was my fault, I pushed too hard in the car."
"Maybe so, but you brought her back, and to us with a pulse." He skims over the medical chart before removing his glasses. Gesturing me to take a seat. Never a good sign.
"Mr. Pectin, you should understand we had to put Abagail in a medically induce coma. The trauma her body experienced requires intense rest, she was placed on a ventilator to ease her breathing as her upper chest heals from the collapse- There is no easy way to say this." He clears his throat before sitting on the arm of one of the worn waiting room chairs.
"During the trauma and early life saving measures my team wasn't aware of her pregnancy until it was too late."
"Pregnancy? What? Ho- how far?"
"Within the first trimester, by measurements we estimate close to six weeks."
Anything else the Doctor tells me is all a blur, sinking into my seat, my body goes numb, the only feeling I have is the pain in my tightening chest. An innocent life. Gone. My baby. Gone. I was going to be a dad. Staring into a blank space Doctor Chavez places a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Mr. Pectin."
"-Wyatt."
His muffled voice finally gains my attention as I sit up in my chair.
"uh, yea, sorry."
"You can go in to see her now."
"Yea, right!" nodding my head, I stand from my seat, offering him a handshake. "Thanks for everything Doctor Chavez."
For the next nine hours I just sat with her, holding her hand. I fixed her hair just the way she liked it, parting it to the right and pushing it back behind her ear. I told her how Sean went back to the house to meet his unit and processed the scene, assuring her the fire hadn't damaged the inside of our home.
And in fact, the second the scene was cleared for entry Liv didn't skip a beat. Come visiting hours the next morning, she would be back with a duffel full of real paperback books, Abbie's journal and laptop, her favorite lip balm, a comfy pillow, and blanket from home along with some other belongings.
Until then I settled into the chair closes to Abbie's bed side and decided to read to her, if - when she woke, I wanted my voice to be the first she heard. I googled "Nicholas Sparks books "followed by the abbreviation "PDF". He had always been one of her favorite slow-burn romance authors, even before our days at the cabin; hitting the jackpot of free web pages, I selected THE RETURN, it was one of his newer releases and I hoped Abbie hadn't read this one yet.
I'd pause between the chapters, checking on her, to see if she had a reaction to anything I read aloud or if she noticed the similarities between the main character Trevor and myself. I knew a coma could vary in length per patient, but my hopes were high. That if she could hear me, knew I was there, she would heal faster.
By hour nine, the Intensive Care Unit was about to open for visitors in the next fifteen minutes. Sixteen minutes later was when Alivia softly knocked at the door. The first time she was on time for anything.
"I'll be right back babe."
Lifting from the sofa, I join Liv in the hall.
"Hey, thanks for getting all of this for us." I say gesturing to the overflowing duffel, taking it from her hands.
Unexpectedly she pulls me in her arms, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
"Oh my gosh, of course! How is our girl? What did I miss?"
"Well, that's why I came into the hall. I wanted to give you an update. Doctor Chavez said they put her in a medically induced coma for a few days but mentioned that she should be able to hear us. He said it's important to keep our spirits up and make her comfortable."
For the first time she is slow to respond, covering her mouth as if to ease the awful news, "yea, sure."
"Liv, before you go in. Did you know Abbie was pregnant? Did she know?"
But she says nothing for a moment, she just stares at Abbie from the hallway window.
"Was?" A tear breaks past her thick barrier of mascara.
"Ooh,uh, no I didn't." hugging me again she pulls me in, tighter than before.
"But I'm sure if Abbie knew, she had her reasons for not telling us yet." Her eyes search the air for more words- for a reason but falls short. As if realizing I have also suffered this loss, she shifts her tear-filled eyes to me.
"I'm so sorry honey, I wish I could take this hurt anyway from you. I won't mention anything about the baby, I'll keep my visits positive." She pauses, squeezing my arm making sure I was listening before continues.
"But Wyatt, before I go in, you should know Scott identified your father's body. Jason is gone."
"My father died a long time ago. I loss him when my mama passed."
As the day came that we expected Abbie to awake from her coma, we were saddened when no movement happened. Over time the get well soon balloons deflated, and the flowers darkened in color before warping as the petals fell to the card covered window seal. Soon visitors dissipated as hope of her deep sleep ending faded. But I never stopped reading. I never lost hoped.
>><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><<
Thanks for reading!❤