The steady beep of the monitor above my head was driving me crazy. It was relentless, never ending, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to block it out. My head was throbbing, my face tight and stretched against the swelling, and yet that damn beeping was worse than anything else I felt.
I sat still as a statue on the edge of the hard, cold stretcher. My small hands gripped the edge of the rubber mattress, tightening and loosening in sync with the beeping. I kept my eyes closed, the bright light too harsh against my damaged head as it hung between my shoulders lifelessly.
The only thing I could do was let my mind slowly repeat the events of the last few hours over and over again.
Once she was certain Reign was dead, my mother dropped the gun to the floor. It fell with a loud, ominous clatter, all the life it held fizzling out like the one it took. It looked like a toy, the same kind we used to play with as kids when we were cops and robbers. But this one was no toy.
She converged on me within seconds, sobbing hysterically, her entire body shaking. She was trying to speak, but none of her words made any sense against the frantic crying she released against my hair. I clung to her tightly, breathing in the scent of her, feeling her body into mine just as I had done time and time again when I was a child. She was my safe place, my haven, and now she had become my savior.
"Mom," I shuttered, my voice sounding lost and foreign to my ears. "What did you do?"
She pulled back, shaking her head as tears continued to stain her cheeks. Her hands smoothed back my hair, her eyes roaming every inch of my face. "What I had to do."
"But,"
"I did what I should have done all along," she interrupted, her voice slowly calming. "You are my baby. I need to protect you. I should have protected you."
Her words pulled more sobs from within me, my face crumpling painfully as I pulled her against me again. We sat on the floor crying, rocking each other slowly, until the sound of sirens rose in the distance.
It all happened quickly after that. A knock at the front door, and a loud call from the police that they were responding to reports of gunshots. My mother pulled back from me, her hands caressing my face with a soft smile on her lips, before standing and accepting her fate.
The scene changed into one of yellow tape, dark clad officers and endless questions. I was pulled away from my mother and into an ambulance, causing me to again fall into hysterics, as I was examined by paramedics. The ride to the hospital was a blur, my heavy eyelids constantly falling, ignoring the urgent voices around me asking me to stay awake.
A doctor examined me gently, his lined face and white hair reminding me of Santa Claus in a lab coat. He was sweet and kind, his aged face sad when I told him how I had come to meet him.
"You're a brave girl," he commented once he had finished stitching the laceration above my eye. "Not many I've come across have been able to find the strength to leave."
I wanted to thank him but the words fell away. He gave me a gentle touch of his hand against my leg, and a kind smile, before disappearing on the other side of the ugly blue curtain, leaving me alone with my scar, my cracked rib, my bruises, and my mind.
But I wasn't alone long, before two officers in gray suits began their endless barrage of questions.
What had happened? How did he get in? Did I know he had a gun? Did I know my mother had a gun? What did he do to me? Why did he come here?
All the secrets I had spent over a year protecting were now laid bare across the void between myself and these strangers, documented in their messy scrawl against generic yellow note pads.
"Where is my mother?" I finally asked when I had grown tired of their repetitive questions.
The younger of the two answered. "She is at the police station."
I moved to stand, the moment my feet touched the floor the room spinning wildly. The officer grabbed me, steadying me, but I pulled away sharply against his hold.
"Whoa there, just sit down Ms. Cahill."
"I want to see my mother," I whispered as my fell back against the stretcher.
The older man, a weathered detective with a no nonsense air and tired eyes sighed. "Not tonight, honey."
"But,"
"You can see her tomorrow," he assured me, moving the other officer out of the way to come and stand by me. He eased me back onto the stretcher, ensuring I was settled and not about to pass out on the floor. "There is still a lot of things to go through."
His words caused my chin to quiver.
"Haven't we been through enough?" I asked, tears brimming in my eyes. For someone I had no doubt had seen more than his share of grief and pain, I was surprised to see a touch of sadness cross his face.
"You have. And we will do everything we can to make sure you don't go through anymore, alright?"
I could only nod in response, hoping he was right.
After more questions and more repetitive answers, the two detectives finally left. That was when I had started to realize the presence of the annoying beep in the room. I tried to rest, closing my eyes in the hopes that it would block out the sound, but all it did was make my sense of hearing heighten. I couldn't lay here like this anymore, so instead, I found myself sitting on the edge, my hands contracting and releasing in time with the beat of my heart. A tiny white probe remained stuck to my finger, but any time I tried to take it off two nurses would run in and give me shit. Apparently a cracked rib put me at risk for a pneumo-something or other. At this point, I would take it if it meant I would find some silence.
As if by some twist of fate, the moment the word silence touched the edges of my thoughts, a loud voice boomed through the halls.
"Where is she?" it called, the sound jumpstarting my heart.
I heard movement, the sound of feet.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but if you're not family then you cant-"
"Like hell I cant," he shouted, anger making his accent even deeper.
I had just moved to jump down from the stretcher when the curtain pulled away and Harry appeared. His face was white, his green eyes so wide he looked wild, and he was panting as though he had run a marathon.
The moment I saw him my heart swelled painfully in my chest. My face crumpled, my body sagging. I thought I had run dry of tears hours ago, but my eyes found more as they slid down my cheeks.
"Thank God," Harry breathed, storming into the room and colliding with me. His arms encircled me, pulling me against him so tightly my rib ached. But I ignored the pain, relishing in it, because he was here. My arms wrapped around his neck as he practically crawled onto the bed to get closer to me, his familiar and comforting scent intoxicating me.
Three hospital staff came tumbling in after him. "Sir, I told you that you cant,"
"Its fine," I said, my voice mumbled against his chest. "I want him here."
They idled in the doorway for a moment, silently exchanging glances, before stepping back out and closing the curtain behind them.
The moment we were alone, I fell into hysterics against Harrys chest. His hand stroked my hair, the other pulling my legs around until I was cradled in his lap as he gently shushed my sobs. Once settled, he rocked me back and forth like a child, his head resting on the top of mine.
"You're okay," he murmured, kissing my temple over and over again. "You're fine. I'm never going to let anything happen to you."
His words forced more cries to leave me.
He held me until my eyes ran dry, and I could only hiccup every few moments. I clung to him like a lifeline, pulling in his warmth, his smell and his familiarity to drive out all the pain and memories in my mind.
Slowly, he lifted his head to look down at me.
"You're okay," he said, brushing his fingers over my cheek. "He's gone."
My chin quivered, but no more tears fell.
"How? How did you get here?"
A smirk hinted at the corner of his mouth. "I took the first flight out of Birm I could get."
"But...how did you know I was here?"
To this, his grin faltered. "I got your address from Niall. But when I got to your place, it was all taped off. Needless to say, I lost my shit a little before one of the cops finally told me what happened and where you were."
Another wave of emotion bubbled in my chest, but it didn't bring on more tears. I held them back, not wanting them to blur the sight of him in front of me.
"But...why?"
Again, his fingers ran along my cheek.
"Why did you come here? After everything that happened, how-"
"I promised you a while ago that there you led I would follow," he said softly, his fingers moving to the back of my neck. He cradled me like I was made of glass, and in this moment, I felt just as fragile. "I had to follow you."
A single laugh fell from my lips before they were captured by Harry's. I sighed against him, kissing him with all the pain I endured, all the exhaustion I felt in my bones, and all the days of withheld I'm sorry's I should have said.
I lost myself in him, in the safety and comfort of his arms, and let myself finally give in to the most exquisite and welcome downfall of my life.