Heaven's Sinners
Page 60
I turn to see a doctor walking into the room. I sit up in bed, but he waves a hand at me. “Sorry, there’s no news. I am here to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
“You had a couple of hard falls; I’d just like to make sure.”
He walks over, and I sit still while he goes over me. I don’t even want to move. I just can’t be bothered. Everything inside me feels like it’s stopped. When he’s done, he pulls back.
“You’re ok to go whenever you need. Just keep an eye on that bump on your head. If you get any severe headaches, come back. I know you’re waiting for Danny, so feel free to stay in this room while you do.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, and then leaves. Cade walks into the room a moment later, holding two cups of coffee. His face is broken, and his large body is slumping slightly, but he’s trying to keep it together.
“Any news?” he asks.
“No, nothing.”
I take the hot coffee he hands me, and I take a sip. I can’t taste it, I can’t even feel its heat. I’m numb. I’ve been sitting, staring at the wall for the past three hours, just hoping something happens. I can’t grieve. I can’t have hope. I just don’t know which way to lean.
“We’ll know soon,” Cade assures me.
I hope so.
ANOTHER FOUR HOURS LATER.
“Are you Danny’s next of kin?”
I turn in my chair to see a doctor standing at the door. I stand quickly, dropping the magazine that was on my lap that I wasn’t actually reading. I rush over, my body feeling numb. I reach him, and my eyes frantically search his expression to see if I can see the “I’m sorry, he’s dead” look.
“I am,” I croak.
He nods. “He’s out of surgery. We removed all the bullets. There were six of them, but he was lucky. I don’t know how, and I’ve never seen someone so lucky in my life, but none of those bullets didn’t hit anything important. He had four in his lower back, and two on the right side of his body. If they had hit the left side, he would be dead. There was some damage to his stomach, but we repaired it. He lost a lot of blood, and it was touch and go for a minute there, but he came out of it. He’s in intensive care, and the next twenty-four hours are crucial, but he’s stable.”
I don’t hear anything past the “he’s out of surgery.” I just feel my legs wobble, and my entire body begins to shake. The doctor reaches out and grips my arm. “Are you okay, miss?”
“Can I see him?” I whisper.
He nods. “One at a time, for now.”
He leads me out of the room and down the hall. I don’t even think to tell the others: all I can think about is Spike.
We get to a dark room, and I can hear the beeping of the machines. I walk in, and there he is, tubes everywhere, machines everywhere, but I can see the steady rising and falling of his chest, and that’s enough for me.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I walk closer. I can’t hear anything else around me. I can’t see anything but him. I stop beside his bed, and reach down, gripping his hand and pulling it into mine. Nurses flutter around, but I don’t notice them. I just stare at him. My life.
“I’m here,” I whisper to him. “Baby, I’m here.”
I take a seat beside him, and I hold onto his hand for hours. The others come in one at a time, hug me, sit with him, and then they leave. I don’t move. My legs are numb, my body hurts, but I sit there until his eyes begin to flutter open.
I leap to my feet, squeezing his hand and gently stroking his hair. He blinks, and stares at me blankly for a good, solid few minutes. Then he opens his mouth, and he rasps, “Ciara?”
Oh God.
I break down, sobbing like a child and clutching his hand. “I’m here, baby, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
He blinks a few times, and then he lets his eyes scan the room. “Where...”
“You’re in the hospital, you got shot. Do you remember?”
He looks hazy, so I press the nurse button. Two of them come in a moment later, and when they see he’s awake, the practically shove me out of the way to check him over. I step out of the room, knowing the others will want to know. I find them in the waiting room, tired and worn, looking like shit.
“He’s awake,” I say, my voice hoarse.
They all sigh with relief.
“You guys go home, I’m ok here.”
Addison stands, and walks over. She takes me into her arms and holds me tightly. “It’s okay. We’re all going to be just fine now.”
I nod, hugging her tightly, then I pull back and hug the rest of them, even Granger.
“You let us know when we can come back and see him, yeah?” he says to me.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I promise.”
They all leave, and I head back to Spike’s room. When I get in, the nurses are just leaving, and he’s sitting up slightly in the bed. His eyes fall on me, and he forces a weak smile. I walk in, swallowing down my tears. I stop at his bed, and I take his hand.
“Spike, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head weakly. “Ain’t your fault, Ciara.”
“It is my fault. I showed up.”
“If you didn’t show up, I might be dead. That would have gone how it went,” he croaks. “Wouldn’t have mattered if you were there or you weren’t.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
“You had a couple of hard falls; I’d just like to make sure.”
He walks over, and I sit still while he goes over me. I don’t even want to move. I just can’t be bothered. Everything inside me feels like it’s stopped. When he’s done, he pulls back.
“You’re ok to go whenever you need. Just keep an eye on that bump on your head. If you get any severe headaches, come back. I know you’re waiting for Danny, so feel free to stay in this room while you do.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, and then leaves. Cade walks into the room a moment later, holding two cups of coffee. His face is broken, and his large body is slumping slightly, but he’s trying to keep it together.
“Any news?” he asks.
“No, nothing.”
I take the hot coffee he hands me, and I take a sip. I can’t taste it, I can’t even feel its heat. I’m numb. I’ve been sitting, staring at the wall for the past three hours, just hoping something happens. I can’t grieve. I can’t have hope. I just don’t know which way to lean.
“We’ll know soon,” Cade assures me.
I hope so.
ANOTHER FOUR HOURS LATER.
“Are you Danny’s next of kin?”
I turn in my chair to see a doctor standing at the door. I stand quickly, dropping the magazine that was on my lap that I wasn’t actually reading. I rush over, my body feeling numb. I reach him, and my eyes frantically search his expression to see if I can see the “I’m sorry, he’s dead” look.
“I am,” I croak.
He nods. “He’s out of surgery. We removed all the bullets. There were six of them, but he was lucky. I don’t know how, and I’ve never seen someone so lucky in my life, but none of those bullets didn’t hit anything important. He had four in his lower back, and two on the right side of his body. If they had hit the left side, he would be dead. There was some damage to his stomach, but we repaired it. He lost a lot of blood, and it was touch and go for a minute there, but he came out of it. He’s in intensive care, and the next twenty-four hours are crucial, but he’s stable.”
I don’t hear anything past the “he’s out of surgery.” I just feel my legs wobble, and my entire body begins to shake. The doctor reaches out and grips my arm. “Are you okay, miss?”
“Can I see him?” I whisper.
He nods. “One at a time, for now.”
He leads me out of the room and down the hall. I don’t even think to tell the others: all I can think about is Spike.
We get to a dark room, and I can hear the beeping of the machines. I walk in, and there he is, tubes everywhere, machines everywhere, but I can see the steady rising and falling of his chest, and that’s enough for me.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I walk closer. I can’t hear anything else around me. I can’t see anything but him. I stop beside his bed, and reach down, gripping his hand and pulling it into mine. Nurses flutter around, but I don’t notice them. I just stare at him. My life.
“I’m here,” I whisper to him. “Baby, I’m here.”
I take a seat beside him, and I hold onto his hand for hours. The others come in one at a time, hug me, sit with him, and then they leave. I don’t move. My legs are numb, my body hurts, but I sit there until his eyes begin to flutter open.
I leap to my feet, squeezing his hand and gently stroking his hair. He blinks, and stares at me blankly for a good, solid few minutes. Then he opens his mouth, and he rasps, “Ciara?”
Oh God.
I break down, sobbing like a child and clutching his hand. “I’m here, baby, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
He blinks a few times, and then he lets his eyes scan the room. “Where...”
“You’re in the hospital, you got shot. Do you remember?”
He looks hazy, so I press the nurse button. Two of them come in a moment later, and when they see he’s awake, the practically shove me out of the way to check him over. I step out of the room, knowing the others will want to know. I find them in the waiting room, tired and worn, looking like shit.
“He’s awake,” I say, my voice hoarse.
They all sigh with relief.
“You guys go home, I’m ok here.”
Addison stands, and walks over. She takes me into her arms and holds me tightly. “It’s okay. We’re all going to be just fine now.”
I nod, hugging her tightly, then I pull back and hug the rest of them, even Granger.
“You let us know when we can come back and see him, yeah?” he says to me.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I promise.”
They all leave, and I head back to Spike’s room. When I get in, the nurses are just leaving, and he’s sitting up slightly in the bed. His eyes fall on me, and he forces a weak smile. I walk in, swallowing down my tears. I stop at his bed, and I take his hand.
“Spike, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head weakly. “Ain’t your fault, Ciara.”
“It is my fault. I showed up.”
“If you didn’t show up, I might be dead. That would have gone how it went,” he croaks. “Wouldn’t have mattered if you were there or you weren’t.”
