Chris POV
After what seems like hours, we finally arrive at the hospital. I look out the window, anxiety flooding my thoughts, and hear a familiar voice.
"Dad?" Oliver barely is able to get out. I shoot my head in his direction at the sound of his whisper.
"Yeah, I'm right here." I say turning back around and crouching down to be close enough to hear him. I close my hand around his and notice it's colder than usual.
"Dad, I'm scared." He says as the doors swing open up. I smile at him, fighting the urge to cry and say, 'me too.'
"It's okay. You're okay." I say as our hands leave each other and I jump out of the vehicle, following the gunnery. He keeps looking back at me as we speed down through the hallway.
"Dad?" He says once more. I feel someone push me away and start speaking, but I cannot take my attention off Oliver. I watch as they go storming down the hall without me.
"You have to stay here sir. Please stay put." She tells me, barely loud enough for me to comprehend.
"Dad!" I hear Oliver raise his voice a little more. I feel tears come down my faces. I want to hold him, help him, anything but see him like this.
"It's okay, Oliver! You're going to be okay! I love you!" I yell down the hallway hoping that he heard it. The nurse's arm stops me from stepping any further. I see them turn into the operating room and I knew this feeling all too well.
This was the make or break moment. The moment that he was to survive like Mel or die like Chelsey. I felt my heart shatter not being able to be by his side any longer.
This was it and I prayed to God I wouldn't lose the only son I had. I could take anymore heartbreak in my life, not now.
I did the only thing I could, sit and wait. I was sitting inside a familiar waiting room that brought terrible memories back.
I looked at my phone every second or so. I don't know what I wanted, but I wanted something. A call from Mel, a text from my mom, an update, I didn't know. I just couldn't more my fingers to do anything.
Finally, I set my phone on the ground and put my head in my hands. I feel even more tears come down. Each hit the floor.
If I would have done something? If I hadn't had told him that his pain was nothing? If I would have just listened, what could this day have been? A finished baseball game? A night of enjoyment? My boy healthy and unhurt? But no, I didn't listen. I ignored what was right in front of me, and now Oliver is suffering from my mistake.
I am his father; I'm supposed to know this stuff. I'm supposed to know when my own child is hurt or sick, but I didn't know. I didn't notice anything.