Everything feels sour. The world is dark and shaking. Chills remain on my skin, making all the little hairs on my body stand on end. I feel so fucking sick. Defeated. Like someone beat the fuck out of me with a hockey stick.
I’m not sure exactly how long it takes to get there. Street lightsand car lights go by in a blur. We stop and go. There’s a horn here and there.
Finally, we’re at the hospital. Winny comes with me, for which I’m thankful. Reading signs is difficult and I can’t make out which way I’m supposed to be going.
“Emergency,” I tell Winny.
He nods and adjusts our course until we’re standing in front of the reception desk. With a fucking line in front of me. I’m going to lose my shit if I have to wait here long. What if he’s…
“How can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Torin Jonah. I was called to come in. He’s been in an accident.”
The woman nods. “Have a seat. I’ll let the nurses know you’re here.”
“But they called for me to come in,” I argue.
“She knows,” Winny says as he takes my arm and pulls me away. “She can’t let you in. She needs the nurse to come get you. Take a breath. Whatever condition Torin is in, he’s going to need you to be strong. Okay?”
I look at Winny like he’s lost his mind.
He rests his head on mine. “I know it’s hard and I know how scared you are, but you need to be strong for him. That’s what he’s going to need from you.”
He’s not wrong, I know that. But how can I be strong when he might be…? I can’t think the word again. I refuse to.
“Mr. Bladen?”
I spin around and come face to face with a woman in a long white jacket over scrubs and a stethoscope hanging around her neck.
“My name is Dr. Morrison. Come with me?”
“Is he…?”
“He’s alive,” she says and my breath rushes out of me as I hurry to her side.
I pause and look back at Winny. “I’ll wait here,” he assures me. “I’m not going anywhere. Let me know if you need something.”
Nodding, I follow the doctor. “He’s alive,” I repeat, my body flooding with relief.
“He is. He’s unconscious. We’ve been running tests for the lastcouple hours to make sure he doesn’t have any internal bleeding or organ injuries.”
“Does he?”
She shakes her head. “No. Lots of bruises. A couple breaks.”
“What happened?”
“From what I’ve been told, a drunk driver in a big SUV crossed the line and ran into a tractor trailer truck. Torin’s car wasn’t hit head on, but he was directly behind the truck so he ran into it when it jackknifed.”
Horror rushes through me. He was probably so scared.
“He may be asleep for a while. We’re going to bring him up to a room soon, but he’s stable enough that you can stay with him.”
She pushes open a door and my heart stops. He looks so small. There are tubes and wires coming from his body connected to machines that have beeping lines all over the place. His eyes are closed. They’re bruised and swollen. There are butterfly stitches over his eyebrow and a big bruise along the side of his face.
“I’m going to warn you that there’s a chance he might suffer some memory loss.”
My breath catches.
