Facing forward, with my head pressed firmly against the headrest, I pray like I have never prayed before. I’m shaking and trembling all over, and it feels surreal as my life flashes in front of my face. The busy road approaches, and nausea travels up my throat. We are powerless to do anything but brace ourselves and pray.
“Stevie!” Garrick yells, panic and fear lacing his tone. “I love you. No matter what happens, you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I’m sobbing and screaming as we careen onto the main road, and my bones rattle as the first impact is felt when a vehicle viciously slams into us. Screeching metal, squealing tires, and the shattering of glass accost my eardrums as we spin round and round, hitting off other vehicles as we spiral out of control. White spots fly across my retinas, and I’m lightheaded and nauseated as I’m jostled violently behind my seat belt when the car flips upside down and spins. “Garrick!” I cry out in between screaming. “I love you!” My head slams brutally against the side of my CR-V, and the last thing I think before I black out is I should have accepted the car.
ChapterThirty-Five
Stevie
An irritating persistent beeping noise rouses me from sleep. Hushed whispering tickles my eardrums as I slowly come to. Blinking my eyes open, I wince as the glare of the overhead light ignites a pounding in my head.
“Sweetie. It’s okay. I’m here. Nana is too.” Mom’s soft voice is laced with concern as my eyes shutter, and a moan filters from my dry lips.
My tongue feels superglued to the roof of my mouth, and my throat aches as I swallow thickly. I attempt to move onto my side, but my limbs are lethargic, and they refuse to cooperate. Forcing my eyes to open again, I wince a second time as glaring light pummels my skull.
“I’m turning the main light off.” Nana pads to the wall to flick the switch, plunging the room into semi-darkness. The only illumination now is from the recessed lighting by the door and trickles of sneaky daylight filtering in through the window blind.
Slowly, I take in my surroundings. My horror grows as I note the pale gray walls, my position on an elevated hospital bed, the dresser and table off to one side housing copious vases with vibrant flowers, boxes of sweets and chocolates, and cards, and a machine beeping someplace behind me.
Instant panic consumes me as the events of the car accident resurface in my mind, and it’s like being punched in the gut. Air wheezes out of my mouth in strangled puffs as a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. “Garrick,” I croak as tears instantly form in my eyes. “Where’s Garrick?” I frantically scan the small private room, but it’s only me, Mom, and Nana in here.
Nana and Mom exchange a pained look, and terror has a vise grip on my heart. The beeping from the machine accelerates as I struggle to breathe. “Mom!” I rasp over a scraping throat. “Where is he?” I move onto my side, ignoring the heaviness cloaking my bones as I attempt to pry the covers from my body. Tubes run from my hand to a drip propped alongside my bed. “Where is my boyfriend?!” I scream, my gaze bouncing from Mom to Nana. “Tell me!” I try to get up as Mom stands, crouching over me with tears in her eyes.
The door to the room bursts open, and two female nurses rush in.
“Shush, honey,” the older lady with the short gray hair says. “You need to calm down, Stevie.”
“Nana.” I turn pleading blurry eyes on my grandmother while the nurses add a different pouch to the drip. “Please.”
She leans down, brushing delicate fingers against my cheek. “He’s alive, Little Poppy. He’s alive.”
Temporary relief floods my veins until I see the doleful expression they share. The hand around my heart squeezes, constricting my oxygen supply until I can barely breathe. I force the question out of my mouth. “How…bad…is…he?” I can hear the hysteria peppering my stammering words as I try to force myself into an upright position.
The younger nurse gently pushes me back down, her mouth moving in speech, but I don’t hear the words. All I can see are the tears clouding Mom’s vision and the pain in Nana’s eyes.
“Tell me!” I screech in a louder voice, barely feeling the pain the motion produces in my throat. Finding strength, I shove at the nurses and thrash around in the bed. “Take me to him!” I beg, fighting the nurses as they attempt to thwart my efforts to get up.
Nana leans down, putting her wrinkled face in mine. Her eyes are awash with compassion as she says, “Garrick is in a coma, sweetheart.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. A painful lump wedges in my throat, and an all-consuming pressure sits on my chest. “No!” I croak, sobbing as reality slams into me. “No!” I protest, slapping at the hands trying to restrain me as I lose it. “It’s all my fault!” My eyes dart manically between Mom and Nana. “I should be in a coma, not him!” I can barely see through the tears falling relentlessly from my eyes. “I should have accepted the car, and I should have worn his ring on my main ring finger.” I glance down at my right hand, and panic erupts from my chest. “My ring!” I shout in a hoarse voice. “Where’s my ring! I need to find it!” I thrash around again, howling as pain rips through me of the physical and emotional kind.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Mom reaches out, trying to console me. “I have your ring and your locket. They were with the things recovered from the car. Relax.”
“Here, Little Poppy.” Nana slides the ring on my left hand as my sobs reach epic levels of hysteria.
“Garrick!” I slur, fighting to keep my eyes open as whatever sedative the nurses administered starts entering my blood stream.
“Shush, honey.” Nana and Mom are both crying as the older nurse urges me to calm down before I exacerbate my injuries.
“It’s my fault.” Agony attacks my heart, battering it until it feels like there’s nothing left of the organ. “It’s my fault,” I mumble just before the world goes dark and quiet again.
When I wake the next time, Mom is alone sitting by my bed with a book open on her lap. The room is much darker, and the only sound is the steady beep, beep from the medical machine.
“Honey.” Mom sets her book down and pulls her chair in closer to my bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Garrick,” I whisper over the clawing pain of my throat. Tears instantly well in my eyes as I look down and spot the poppy ring on my left ring finger. “How…” I can’t get any more words past the ragged lump in my throat and the suffocating pain in my chest. It feels like I’m dying.
My sobs and the repetitive beeping of the machine are the only sounds in the room as I slowly self-destruct.
