Matthew.
His fingers are curled around mine, holding tight even in his sleep. His head is resting on the mattress next to my leg. His hair is messy, face ashen, dark bags under his eyes.
“He’s been here the whole time.”
My head whips around to find my mother sitting in the chair on the other side of my bed.
“M-mom?” I croak out, my voice coming out tight.
Mom presses her lips together, forcing out a smile as she gently brushes my hair away. “Hasn’t left your side once. The nurses told us they had to pull him off you when they brought you in. You gave us a scare, you know that?”
A low chuckle escapes me, but it comes out more like a cough. “T-try h-harder n-next time.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Mom chastises. “Water?”
I nod slowly, and she grabs a cup sitting on the nightstand, bringing the straw to my lips. I take a few tentative sips before lying back.
Soft stirring on my other side draws my attention.
Mom gently touches my arm. “I’m going to find a doctor.”
She slips out of the room silently as I watch Matthew open his eyes. He blinks a few times, his brown eyes hazy with sleep as they meet mine.
A few heartbeats pass as we just stare at one another, neither of us saying anything.
Surprise, relief, love, and guilt pass over his face in quick succession, settling on the last one, and it hurts me to see him like this.
“D-don’t… this.”
“Trouble…”
Matthew’s gravelly voice sends a shiver down my spine. I squeeze my fingers around his, the motion sending a jolt of pain through my hand and wrist.
“N-no.” I shake my head stubbornly. “I kn-knew you’d find m-me.”
Matthew’s jaw tenses. “We can talk about this later. When you feel better.”
“I r-ran to you.”
“You did.” He places his hand over mine. “You did so good.”
“What happened with…” My throat bobs, my words trailing off as the panic returns along with flashbacks of what had happened. They’re hazy, but I remember the anger directed at me. Remember the pain jolting through my body.
Matthew squeezes my hand, something dark passing over his expression. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
I suck in a long breath and then let it out slowly, the relief slamming into me as the realization sets in.
It’s over.
Actually, truly over.
The heart monitor starts to beep faster as my heart races. My lips part, but before I can say anything, hell, even wrap my head around it, the door bursts open, doctors and nurses filling the space.
Reluctantly, I let Matthew pull back so they can work. My eyes dart to him, making sure he hasn’t snuck out of the room, but he’s still here, standing in the corner, watching every move the doctors make, the muscle in his jaw twitching if even the slightest sound of pain comes out of my mouth.
They poke and probe, checking my charts and examining me.
Turns out, I’m the lucky winner of a sprained wrist, a concussion that led to brain swelling, a bullet wound to my side, and major blood loss, on top of all the lacerations and bruises on my body.
