Asa
I hear feet shuffling as the men rush out of the house. My eyes are blurred with tears as I drop to my feet and cradle Calysta in my arms. I press my hand against her chest but the blood flows out, covering my hands and the floor in red. Her white shirt isn't white anymore.
"Look at me," I beg her, pressing her chest even harder. "Don't close your eyes. Callie, please. Don't close your eyes."
A tear runs down the side of her face and mixes with the blood on the floor as I dig into my jeans with one hand and pull out my phone. I dial 911, tell them our location and the situation with a shaky voice, on the verge of hysteria and cut the call. I drop my phone onto the floor and look into her eyes. Her eyes are still wide with fear, shock and pain but I can see the life draining out of her. I know that I'm losing her because I can see it in her distant gaze. It sends me off the cliff I've brought us to.
"Callie, please," I beg, pressing against the wound harder.
I press my throbbing forehead. There's blood everywhere. My jeans, my t-shirt, my shoes and my skin are all painted red and I don't know what else to do but cry. The pain in my chest escalates as the tears stream down my face.
I touch her face, the blood tainting her fair skin and I unsuccessfully try to wipe it away. I try to keep my eyes on hers but the warm blood is flowing out of her chest too fast and I know that I'll lose her if the ambulance doesn't come fast.
"Don't leave me," I lower my head and press my lips to her forehead. "I'm sorry. Callie. I'm sorry. Please don't-" I choke. "-just keep breathing, okay?"
I heard the wailing of the ambulance in the background and if the situation was different, I would have ran out and screamed for them to drive faster. I would have waved them down. But I keep my hands pressed against her to stop the bleeding and I press my lips to her as her eyelids start to flutter.
"No-no-no," I chant. "No. Don't you dare give up on me, Cal. Please. I can't lose you. I can't do this without you."
I'm now crying hysterically. I know she doesn't understand a word I'm saying but I'm not quite sure she even heard a thing since her body hit the ground. Her arm falls limply to the side and I scream her name over again over again.
"I love you, Callie. Please don't leave me. I love you."
The paramedics burst into the house, peel me off her, press an absorbent looking cloth against her chest and lift her limp body onto the stretcher. I'm crying so hard that I can't even see much of what's in front of me but I hear the wheels of the stretcher as they push her outside. I follow behind, getting glimpses of people gathering to watch as they side her into the ambulance. One of them give me a little push as if to hoist me into the back and I get in. The doors shut, making a loud noise and I jump.
They've put an oxygen mask over her face, they're trying to stop the bleeding and they're shining a light in her eyes as if to see for any sign of life. One of them start asking me questions but I'm too terrified to answer. I keep telling them that I don't know and I know that it isn't helping them in any way. So I swipe at my tears, I clear my throat and I try to tell them what happened. By then we've reached the hospital and they're wheeling her inside. I rush after them until suddenly someone pulls me back.
"You can't go inside there, kid," a nurse tells me and I look up to see that they've taken her into the operation room. "Stay here. Call her guardian."
Then he walks into the operation room, it closes behind him and I collapse onto the floor. I'm covered in blood that isn't even mine and I feel like I'm dying. If I lose her, I know I'll lose my will to live. I know it sounds dramatic but I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that the only girl I've ever loved died because of me.
I'm still on the floor, crying and covered in dried blood when someone comes to me and asks me for Calysta's guardian's number. She helps me off the floor and to the chairs against the wall. I give her the number and she walks away with purpose. I know I can't call her parents. Not because I'm scared of what they'll do to me when they find out but because I left my phone at the crime scene. I forgot to pick it up when the ambulance came. And so twenty minutes later, I'm still sitting outside the operation room, crying and frustrated that no one has come to tell me what's going on.
"Asa?"
I feel the same fear I felt when we heard the two men enter the house as I turn to find Mr. and Mrs. Harmon running toward me. They obviously left work and drove over as soon as they heard the news. They look almost as wrecked as I do and they don't even know what happened.
"I'm sorry-" I start but Mr. Harmon shoves me against the wall. "I'm sorry."
Mrs. Harmon pulls him off me and I slide to the floor in tears all over again. I can hear him breathing in and out in rage and when I look up, they both look like they're breaking. I didn't even need to tell them what happened because they got their confirmation – their daughter is hurt.
Mrs. Harmon has tears in her eyes. She's shaking in fear and Mr. Harmon has to hold her to keep her from falling to the floor like me. He stares daggers at me and I wish what I had been wishing the whole way to the hospital – that they would have shot me instead.
"Where the hell did you take my daughter?" he demands, his voice so loud, it makes me shake. "What did you do?"
"I-I didn't-" I start but I know that nothing I say will make things okay. "I'm sorry. I didn't know-"
"My baby," his voice cracks and he turns around as he starts to cry.
I close my eyes and I wish our places were reversed. I wish that I was the one in the operation room instead of me. Her whole family wouldn't be breaking apart if it was me instead.
***
Her surgery goes well. They get the bullet out of her chest and they say that she's very lucky that it didn't puncture any of her organs. They move her to the ICU but we're not allowed to see her yet. They're afraid of infection so we wait outside. Mrs. Harmon tells me to go home and change but I refuse to the leave the hospital. Also, I don't want to scare the other kids because I'm covered in blood.
So I go to the washroom to wash the blood off my hands and my face, watching as the red swirls down the drain with the water. I go to the gift shop and buy myself a change of clothes, change into them and then continue to wait outside the ICU.
Mr. Harmon refuses to talk to me. Mrs. Harmon doesn't know what to do or say; she's scared to even look at me. The doctors now relay the news about her recovery to Mr. Harmon directly and he won't tell me whether she's okay. The kids were informed back home but I wouldn't know about how they're taking it because I don't have my phone. I'm sure Trixie has probably called and texted on it numerous times but I don't think I'm ever going to get that phone back. I don't even want to. I never want to go back to that place.
Mr. and Mrs. Harmon go back home to talk to the kids and freshen up but I won't leave. I don't go home with them and they don't ask me to. I stay at the hospital for days and the nurses start to worry about me. They bring me glasses of coffee or snacks from the vending machine that remain uneaten. Every sound of a door opening or closing wakes me up from my half-unconscious state and I know that it's driving me crazy. I just want to see her. I just wish they they'll let me in and see her.
Then one day, Mr. and Mrs. Harmon bring the kids to the hospital. I don't even have to make eye contact with them to know that they've been filled in on what happened. I can already feel my heart breaking as I watch as they pass me in the hallway. Lennon sends me looks of despair when Mrs. Harmon isn't looking. Trixie won't meet my eyes and Mr. Harmon has to steer the younger kids away so they won't come to me. I watch as the doors open and the nurse lets them through. I almost break down at the thought that she's been ready for visitors and they haven't let me in. But I know that I have to be strong so I get up on shaky legs and pray that I won't pass out from starvation.
I'm about to follow them when Mr. Harmon sends everyone else in and turns to look at me. I take a step forward but he starts walking toward me. He shoves me backward light and it's enough to send me out of the entryway and back into the waiting room.
"No, I don't want you anywhere near my daughter," he says and I can tell that he's not only angry, he's hurt that he has to do this. "Don't try to see her. I hate that I have to turn you away but-"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Harmon," I tell him, my throat raw and tears blurring my eyes. "I didn't mean for her to get hurt."
"I know you didn't," he tells me. "But I can't ignore the fact that she did or the fact that you put her life in danger. I don't think you deserve to see her."
I can feel my heart breaking but when I open my mouth, no words come out. The ache in my chest that's been there since the accident hasn't gone away. My hands have a tremor to it now and I don't know how to make it stop. Tears blur my eyes every few minutes and I don't have enough energy to stand for long. And even with all of those problems, I know that I've caused her much more pain than I will ever feel. And I know that I don't deserve to see her, that I don't deserve her at all. But I want to. I want to see her. I want to be with her and I want to tell her how sorry I am, how much I love her. I need her to know.
"Please, let me just see her once," I beg even though I know it's a long shot. "I promise I'll leave after that. I'll leave your house and I'll leave her life. I know I'm not right for her."
"I know you were seeing my daughter, Asa," he says suddenly. "We're not blind. I can tell when my daughter is in love but right now, as a father, I can't let you anywhere near her. I know she'll hate me for it, too, but I have to do what's best for her. And right now, you're not it."
He walks away without another word and without listening to anything I have to say. But I don't have anything to say. I'm speechless because I know I've ruined someone's life and I can see how much it's hurt her entire family. I can see that they're in tremendous pain because of my stupidity and they'll never forgive me. They've decided to keep me away from their children because I don't deserve any of them. I don't deserve a family and I see it now.
I collapse into the metal chair and bang my head against the wall behind it. A sharp pain shoots through my head and I use that pain as an excuse to cry. I cry until my tears run dry, staining my cheeks and soaking my gift store t-shirt. I cry until I can't feel anything anymore, my throat is raw and my eyes are almost swollen shut.
Then I hear the doors open and Trixie comes out. I can only see her high heeled shoes through my swollen eyes as my head hangs low. I don't need to look up to know that she has hate in her eyes. I don't need to look up to know that no explanation is going to fix it this time. I've screwed up and nothing will make up for it.
"Calysta keeps begging for you," she says softly. "Dad kept refusing to let her see you but she won't stop crying."
I feel my heart contract at the thought of her crying because I'm aware that it's my fault. A lot of her tears were a result of something I did. I try to clear my throat to say something but it's raw and burns and suddenly I'm wishing for one of those cups of coffee the nurses had offered me earlier.
"I convinced him to let you see her," she continues and my eyes flicker to hers.
Her eyes are soft, like she's trying to be careful and considerate toward me when I don't deserve it. But behind the apprehension, I can see that it's for Calysta, not for me. It doesn't bother me though because my only concern is to see her.
So I stand up and follow her. I keep my eyes lowered as I follow her into the room. I suddenly know what Calysta felt like when she used to keep her head lowered all the time. I see everyone's shoes then I see Trixie trying to drag their father out of the room with everyone else. When the door clicks closed behind them, I finally have my attention on Calysta.
I hear her sniffle and hiccup and it instantly makes my eyes fill with tears. They stream down my face and when I look up to see her, my eyes are so blurred I can barely make out her features.
"Asa," she says, her voice as broken as I feel. "Please tell me you're okay."
It makes me cry harder, the fact that she wants to know whether I'm okay when she's the one who got shot. It makes me feel like more of a jerk that she's the one who got hurt but she's asking about my wellbeing, that I can't get out even three words to ask how she is when she's in that bed because of me.
"Please come here," she begs and it takes everything I have in me to slowly drag my feet to the side of her bed.
As soon as I'm next to her, I feel her fingers slip through mine. Her hands are cold and trembling but not as shaky as mine. I know she's trying to hold them straight and it only makes me cry harder because she's trying to be strong.
"I'm okay, Asa," she whispers. "Please don't blame yourself."
Your dad blames me. Your mom blames me. Your entire family blames me. And I blame myself because it is my fault, I think but don't say.
"I know dad's angry now but-" she starts but I finally meet her eyes and it makes her stop.
"I need to leave," I croak, my voice harsh against the back of my throat. "I can't stay-"
"Asa," she cuts me off and the sound of her saying my name stirs the same warmth in my chest. "You can't leave. I need you."
I want to scream. I want to pull my hair out. I want to punch the wall in anger. But mostly, I want to tell her that I need her, too. She did make me want to try to be a better person but at the end, I failed her.
"You don't need me," I say, forcing a half-smile which probably looked like a grimace with the tears in my eyes. "You need your family and I'm not it."
The tears are now streaming down her face so I take a seat on the side of her bed, caress her cheek and wipe away the tears. She's staring up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from coming but they don't stop. I know that I shouldn't but I can't help myself when lean forward and press my lips to her forehead.
"Asa-"
I'm holding her hand, firmly this time and I stroke her knuckles with my thumb like we used to. She covers my hand with her second in a desperate attempt to hold onto me but I pull away.
"I'm sorry for everything, Callie," I whisper, my voice getting caught in my throat.
"Don't leave," she says again, her voice filled with so much desperation that it makes me want to listen. "I love you, okay? I don't blame you for what happened. Just stay."
I swipe at my tears, angry that they aren't stopping but even angrier at myself for not telling her first. I wanted to tell her that I love her. I wanted to surprise her, make it special but now she's saying it in desperation and I can't get the words out because I don't think I deserve to say them to her anymore.
"Goodbye, Callie," I say with a heavy heart and a dizziness in my head that's threatening to make me stumble.
And then I find myself leaving, turning my back on the only girl I've ever loved as she calls my name, begging me to stay.
The rest of the family is sitting, waiting for me to be done but Mr. Harmon stands at the door. It makes me wonder for a second whether he had heard our conversation. I wonder whether he hates me more for making her cry even though he wants me to walk away from her. Either way, it doesn't matter because I know what I have to do. And I also want him to know what I'm going to do because it might go against what he wants but I'm going to do it anyway.
"I'm going to come back," I tell him softly. "When I can be the right person for her I'll come back and I'll prove my worth."