“Oh, fucking shit.” Ced’s shocked voice sounds behind me, but I don’t respond. I want to help her, but how? Where?
Goldilocks, damn it, why didn’t you say anything?
“I… I don’t know where to touch her, Ced, fuck, damn it, I don’t know how to help her.” Every word comes out broken, and fuck, I’m about to cry. I see her chest rise and fall, but very irregularly, and the claws of fear dig deeper and deeper. The pressure on my chest becomes unbearable, and I feel like I’m suffocating.
“You’re not dying on me here, do you hear me?” I whisper hoarsely and carefully take her hand to feel her pulse, weak, but there.
Fuck.
Gently, I stroke her forehead, her little hand tight in mine.
He almost beat her to death. He tortured her all the time. Her body is completely bruised.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, but I just brush the hand away.
“Fuck off. I have to…” My voice breaks, and desperation overwhelms me like a huge tsunami.
“Come on, babe, open your eyes. Please.” I never beg. Never. But right here, right now, I would worship the devil if it meant saving her.
“The paramedics are here, Nic. You have to let them through, come on.” Ced’s voice reaches my ear, and I slowly turn to him, seeing the paramedics standing with a stretcher beside him.
Shit, damn it.
“Please… I don’t know where to touch her… she… he… she has bruises everywhere. Please…” I beg like a little child, but I don’t care. They have to help my wife.
Ced gently pats my shoulder, and I rise heavily, not wanting to leave her alone, but I know the paramedics have to do their work. Dizzy, I stand there watching them carefully examine Amelia as she whimpers again, and I clench my hands into fists to stop myself from punching them.
They have to help her, not cause her more pain.
“Nnii… ccooo… llasss.”
Fuck.
I roughly shove one of the men aside and immediately reach her side.
“I’m here, Goldilocks. I’m here.” I gently stroke her curls, press my lips carefully to her forehead, and breathe in her scent. She has one eye open, and I see her trying to focus, to snap back to reality, but she can’t quite manage it.
“Your Majesty, you need to move aside a bit so we can take her to the hospital.”
“Sir, please, you’re in the way.”
“Nn… no. D… oon’t go,” Amelia pants, reaching out her hand toward me, and my head slowly turns to the gentleman—polite, yes, but soon very dead if he doesn’t shut his mouth right now. I know my gaze is lethal because he practically recoils. He can shove his polite, sympathetic reminder that I’m “in the way” somewhere else. I’m not in the way at all. She is my wife. And she needs me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Goldilocks. I’m right here,” I let the guy know, and he nods with pressed lips.
“Then let’s go. We need to get her to the CT scan urgently, since I can’t estimate how severe the internal injuries are.”
At those words, my stomach cramps painfully, and I clench my teeth hard.
She will not die. Not here. Not today.
“I’m coming with you.”
No arguments. Try to talk back and I’ll unleash all my pent-up rage right here, right now in this room. NO ONE will separate me from my wife.
“Go and inform Lizzy and Damien. And call Eric. He should keep an eye on the press in case anything leaks. No one must find out where she’s being taken. Understood?”
Ced just nods, lips pressed into a thin line, and I move together with the paramedics. Amelia’s hand remains tightly clasped in mine, even though she has drifted off again. My phone rings, and I recognize the ringtone. I ignore it. My father will have the pleasure of having a long conversation with me later.
