“Be careful of her cords. We can’t afford for anything to be unplugged,” the doctor says.
Earlier today, I was informed that I suffered from many concussions during my time in the cell, which led to bleeding on my brain. The doctor told me that he was baffled that I was able to fly a plane with the amount of blood applying pressure to my brain. It’s also why I had such a hard time trying to pinpoint who was behind all of this. And that I should feel very lucky that I’m alive and didn’t have a stroke.
Luck . . . what a funny thing, because right now, I don’t feel lucky at all. Not when my Lilly fights for her life. Nothing about me is lucky.
I should be the one in her bed, fighting.
I should be the one with the bullet wound.
Not her.
I settle into her bed, and with my arm that has the IV attached to it, I drape it carefully over her stomach and then I move my head in close to hers.
“Please be careful,” the doctor says.
“This is my goddamn life in this bed,” I say to him. “You don’t have to tell me to be careful.”
His lips seal shut as he nods. “We’ll be back to check on you. Ring the button if you need us.”
The hospital staff leave the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving me alone with Lilly.
I press my lips softly to her cheek and whisper in her ear. “I’m here, love. I’m right here with you and I’m not going anywhere.” I press another kiss to her cheek. “Just you and me. We can get through this. You can get through this, because you’re a fighter, you’re so strong.” My voice chokes up. “The strongest person I know. Stronger than I’ll ever be.”
I nuzzle into her, her body feeling cold, stiff . . . like she’s teetering on life and death. The lack of energy, enthusiasm, cheerfulness—it’s debilitating to see her in such a state when she’s always the brightest in the room.
“Please stay with me,” I whisper. “I need you, Lilly. I can’t . . .” I bite on my bottom lip as a sob catches in my chest, and tears fall past my lids and down my cheeks. “I can’t walk this earth without you. Please.”
And when she doesn’t respond, when the only sound in the room is of her heart monitor beeping, I let my fear and heartache take over, and I cry.
As my tears flow, I beg and plead with whoever wants to listen . . . God, angels . . . her parents.
Please, please don’t let her leave this earth.
It’s not her time.
* * *
“Do you need anything?”Ottar asks me as he stands next to Lara on a pair of crutches.
He was shot in the leg, in his left quad. Lara was able to fashion a tourniquet that helped staunch the bleeding to get him to the hospital. He had to have a blood transfusion, just like Lilly. And after a few surgeries, he regained consciousness and was discharged from the hospital when Lara promised to supervise him.
“I’m good,” I say as I adjust the jogger pants Lara brought me.
Yesterday, I was cleared by the doctor and told to take it very easy. There’s a list of recovery tasks I need to do daily, but those are the least of my concerns at the moment. All I care about is Lilly. Lara brought me some clothes to change into, along with many well wishes from people all around the country. A pile so high that it’s intimidating to even consider reading.
Theo officially addressed the nation a few days ago, telling them about Rolant and Sveinn. From what Lara has told me, he has been absolutely sick about the entire ordeal as well as devastated about the men he thought he raised. Not to mention . . . mourning. I can’t imagine what he must be going through, knowing that his sons betrayed him and his country, tried to take the life of his granddaughter, and then had to accept that to save me and Lilly, his sons had to be killed. The fact that he was even able to address the country is shocking to me.
He spoke the truth, though, from the very beginning. He spoke about the threats, the kidnapping, about how Elias and Cornolia betrayed the country. He spoke of my three months in the cell and how I was able to escape to try to save Lilly. He spoke about Ottar and Lara and their heroic efforts to keep us safe, and he spoke of how Lilly took a bullet for me . . .
He honored the doctor who kept pressure on her chest, Runa’s expert crisis management, and the hospital staff taking care of all of us.
He asked for our well wishes and to keep Lilly in their thoughts.
And they have.
Every night, a candlelight vigil is held outside under the Northern Lights. Wishes and hopes for the princess to get better have been placed outside her window. I’ve made sure to wave to them every night that I’ve been in her room, thanking them for their positive energy and thoughts. I’ve told Lilly about the signs that have been outside, the people who have shown up for her, and every night, I’ve kissed her, held her, and begged her to return to me. But with each passing day when she doesn’t move or respond to my touch, I fear the worst, that maybe . . . maybe she’s not coming back to us.
I even heard the doctor pull Theo to the side where they had a tough conversation about the probability of Lilly coming back to us. Theo responded that we do everything to save her, no matter the odds or how long it might take.
