Page 99 of Saddle and Bound

"No way," I say, gathering all my remaining energy.

"Bro, look at me," Fran says. "We'll follow them by car, if you protest we'll only lose time."

I nod mechanically, unable to formulate a response.

I follow the stretcher out of the woods, eyes fixed on Rosie, afraid she might disappear if I look away even for a second.

The sirens scream into the night as we race toward the hospital, taking Rosie away from me. And meanwhile, my heart breaks completely.

The guys guide me to the nearest car. I follow them as if in an out-of-body experience.

Every second feels like an eternity. Every kilometer, an infinite distance.

Tears flow desperately down my face.

At this moment, I would give anything to see her eyes open, to hear her voice.

Chapter 65

Alex

The ambulance lights slice through the darkness of the woods like blue and red blades, creating dancing shadows that seem to chase us. The sound of the siren pierces the night, a constant scream that reflects the anguish gripping my heart.

Diego is driving, and we've broken every possible speed limit to catch up with the ambulance and allow me to be as close as possible to Rosie. I vaguely hear my brothers occasionally trying to say something to keep me anchored to planet earth, but they're shaken too. The tragedy of my father is still alive and present within each of us. Chris is squeezing my shoulder tightly. He, more than anyone, remembers well. He was with me that day. He's always been with me. I keep my hands clenched into fists, I'm a bundle of nerves.

Finally, we arrive at the hospital, and I catch a glimpse of Rosie as they wheel her out of the ambulance. I rush as close as I can. Her pale face is intermittently illuminated by the flashing lights, giving her an almost spectral appearance.

"Pressure dropping," I hear a paramedic say, the voice muffled as if coming from far away.

Those words mix with the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind. Images of smiling Rosie alternate with the sight of her motionless body. The memory of our first kiss clashes with the fear of never being able to kiss her again.

Someone bumps into me, making me startle. For a moment, I think I see Rosie's eyes moving under her eyelids.

"Rosie?" I whisper, full of hope. But there's no response.

Everyone begins a desperate run. We follow them. The constant beep of machines, the urgent voices of paramedics - everything merges into a single background noise to my silent mantra: "Please live. Please live. Please live." Remorse mixes with fear, creating a toxic cocktail of emotions that threatens to overwhelm me. But I can't break down. Not now. Rosie needs me to be strong.

And then in a whirlwind of movement and urgent voices, Rosie is taken away from me. The hospital doors slide open with a hiss. Rosie is surrounded by a swarm of doctors and nurses.

"Female, 29 years old, head trauma..." The paramedic's words are lost in the chaos. "Rosie!" I shout, trying to make my way through the medical staff.

Strong hands grab me, holding me back. "Bro, stop!" Chris's voice penetrates the fog of my mind, but I can't process it completely. "Let me go! I need to be with her!" I struggle, trying to break free from my friends' grip. "You can't follow her now," says Fran, his voice a distant rumble. "Let the doctors do their job."

The world around me becomes blurry, as if I'm looking through a fogged glass. I see Rosie's stretcher moving further and further away, swallowed by the sliding doors of the emergency room. "Rosie!" I shout again, my voice broken with desperation. The voices around me blend into an indistinct buzz. Fragments of sentences reach me, but I can't make sense of them.

"... in good hands..."

"... we have to wait..."

"... Alex, can you hear me?"

My legs give way and I find myself on my knees on the cold hospital floor. My breath breaks into uncontrollable sobs.

"I lost her," I mumble, more to myself than to others. "I lost her again."

The world continues to move around me, but I'm paralyzed. The ambulance lights continue to flash in my short-term memories, creating dancing shadows that seem to mock my pain. I vaguely feel Chris and Diego helping me up, guiding me toward the entrance of the waiting room. Their voices are a constant buzz, words of comfort that fail to penetrate the bubble of desperation I'm trapped in.

As we enter the room, I take one last look at the emergency room doors, now closed. Rosie is in there somewhere, fighting for her life. And I'm here, helpless, with nothing but regrets and prayers. "Please, Rosie," I whisper, as I let myself be guided and pushed toward a chair. "Don't leave me. Not like this."

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