I grab the cabinet next. Rip it open so hard the hinge snaps. Bottles, gloves, gauze, useless fucking hospital shit scatter everywhere.
Useless.
All of it useless.
I storm back into the room. There’s a chair by the bed.
I throw it at the wall.
It splinters.
The bedside table goes over next. One shove and it crashes onto its side, drawers flying open. Plastic pitcher. Paper cups. Charts. Bullshit. I rake my arm across the counter and send all of it to the floor.
My chest is tight.
Too tight.
I can’t get a full breath in.
Good.
I don’t want one.
Because what the fuck am I breathing for if she isn’t?
That thought hits and something in me goes rabid.
I grab the bedrail and shove the whole hospital bed sideways. Wheels scream across tile. It slams into the wall hard enough to leave a dent. I hit the monitor with my forearm and send it crashing down. Plastic breaks. Screen shatters. Wires tear loose.
Still not enough.
I want the whole room in pieces. I want this hospital on the ground.
I want every doctor who touched her dragged back in here and told to put her the fuck back together.
I want her breathing.
I want her eyes on me.
I want her mouth opening to say something sharp and nasty and alive.
I want—
My throat closes.
A noise rips out of me. Not a word. Something lower. Worse.
I snatch the IV pole and swing it into the wall. Once. Twice. Again. Drywall caves in. Metal bends in my hands.
Good.
Break.
Break.
Break.
Because if I stop, I see her.
