Zachariah would always die, right next to me as some nameless person would shoot him in the head without a care in the world. I’d watch as his eyes dulled right next to me. Was his life that easy to take away?
I knew that Zachariah was alive by luck alone. It didn’t stop my fears of what could have happened. We both could have died, but some unforeseeable force changed the person’s mind. Instead, we were both alive.
We had our lives still, which would not be taken for granted.
The only good thing after nearly a month of constant worry, I was now able to walk without the aid of crutches. It was a tiresome time trying to gain strength back in my leg, as the healing process seemed to take forever. Even longer for my arm, which was still in a cast.
My leg still ached more often than I’d like, given how much time it had been. Being shot close up like I was, the bullet had stopped just a hint away from my thigh bone. Bullet wounds were something I could certainly live without experiencing again. Once was more than enough.
I had to wonder how Zachariah dealt with such pain so often.
During the first two weeks, I constantly hurt, no matter what I did or how careful I moved around after being released from the stuffy hospital. I guess being crashed into by two different cars would do that to just about anyone, and that was excluding the throbbing of both my arm and leg.
Physical therapy was not something I ever wanted to do again, that was for sure. Even if it did get me back to walking sooner. Running would come later, in months most likely. That was okay, though. I was alive. My heart still beat inside my chest as blood pumped through my veins.
I was never left alone in the house after I was released. Not that I was home all that often anyway. Either Jonas or Travis were always with me, no matter where I went at home or at the hospital. Carlos was determined to make sure that I wasn’t left alone by any means necessary and for good reason.
Not many people were to be trusted with a huge price on not only my head, but Zachariah’s also.
I didn’t mind. It was for the best. With a killer, or at least a man that wanted both me and Zachariah dead, on the loose, I didn’t want to go out and about without protection. I’d take just about anything to make sure we were both safe.
For now.
I couldn’t wait for Zachariah to be back home. It was lonely without him. I missed him, even the bad parts of him.
I knew our relationship was nowhere near perfect. How could it be with how we came to be together? In time, after he’d get home, we’d get that time we needed to figure out what would happen next. I wasn’t going to give up on him. That car crash changed things for me with how I saw Zachariah.
I’m in love with him. I promised myself to tell him when he got back home and settled. I have this burning need to make sure that he knows just how much I love him.
He had been injured more seriously than I was in the crash. There was no other reason for that black car to run into us head on and cause us to run sideways into another, bigger car unless it was done deliberately to try to kill us.
I’d never forget how it felt to be hit by not one car, but two. I was caged in, unable to move with my leg pinned under the dash and a broken arm from the force of the collision. That pain, that experience, would likely stay with me until I die.
With the emotional pain I have felt this far, the car accident was at the top of the list. Nothing could compare to it, and by God, I prayed nothing ever would. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle anything more than what I have so far.
I was strong, but even the strongest person could only handle so much.
After Zachariah’s surgery to remove pressure on his brain due to the impact, he had been in a coma for a long two weeks before waking up. He had also been shot and was lucky to be alive. He was closer to death than I ever wanted to think about if I could help it.
I was scared that I was going to lose him. Lose him before we even started a life together.
The doctors were unsure if he’d have any lasting effects from some of the injuries, even though Jonas and Carlos had said he’d had much worse. How was that possible?
I didn’t entirely want to think about what could possibly be worse than lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to countless monitors, just barely alive. Seeing Zachariah in such a way nearly broke my heart.
He could have died. Many times.
Julia really had been a lifesaver in the weeks following the crash. I don’t know what I would have done if she wasn’t there, helping to keep me going as the days passed. She understood more than she let on. She knew I loved her son without any words spoken.
She gave me the encouragement to keep on going. If it wasn’t for her, I may have stopped trying to get myself stronger as Zachariah fought for his own life by the machines keeping him alive.
Jonas and Travis tried to keep me encouraged themselves, but they knew how life worked better than I did. They knew things I didn’t want to know. So, trying to keep me safe and trying to be my family at the same time was hard enough.
Carlos said he had taken care of whoever tried to kill Zachariah for the second time within days,which was yet another thing I didn’t have time to worry about. I refused to think about what I was sure had happened.
Now, after what felt like years instead of almost a month, Zachariah was being released. I wouldn’t ever be happier. The news that seemed to take forever to come, lifted more stress than I expected.
Other than the brain injury, all of his other wounds had mostly healed. His gunshot wound was healed as much as my own. He’d still be sore and had to take it easy, but he was healed enough to go home.
