Page 26 of Deliria

Scarlett.

Only, she looks too broken, too bruised to be her.

A tube comes out of her mouth. Her leg is in a cast with pins sticking out to keep the bone in place. There’s a drip going into her arm. Her face is a mass of purple and black. Both her eyes are swollen shut. Her hair is a mess of dirt and congealed blood, though thankfully that wound was superficial and only needed a handful of stitches.

I get up, forcing my stiff limbs to move, and I stalk over to where she is. Her chest is rising slowly. On the monitor her heart rate is there, nice and steady.

They had to sedate her at the scene. Her body was too damaged, the situation too critical to deal with her frantic state of mind.

Thank god I was able to arrive shortly after the crash. To ensure she was cared for. That she was safe.

I take her hand, feeling the unusual coolness. She was always so warm, so full of life, so completely different to what she is in this moment.

“Any word on when she’ll wake?”

I don’t turn at the sound of my father’s voice. I just shake my head.

We almost lost her when she was in the OR. We almost lost her in the ambulance on the way here.

If she wakes up it’ll be a miracle.

But she can’t die. I won’t let that happen.

I clench my fists, clench my jaw, feeling fury and helplessness at this entire situation. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end with us here. We had such good plans. Such hope.

“She has to live.”

It’s all I can say. All I keep saying. Like some stupid broken record. Like some mantra. The desperate plea’s of a desperate man.

But she can’t die. All my dreams, all my hopes, everything was built around her.

I can’t lose her. I just can’t.

I jerkawake as my father gently nudges me.

“How, how long was I out for?” I splutter. It feels like forever and no time all at once.

I never considered how exhausting this would be. How all-consuming this situation would become. I thought bringing her here, bringing her to my home was the right call, the logical call.

Afterall, this was my childhood home, the great Forster Mansion. Where our dreams and successes were forged. Why would I not bring her here? When she is all my dreams, all my chances, in one perfect package.

“You need to rest.” My father says, not answering my question. “The stress of this is starting to show on your face.”

I hear the words he doesn’t say. That appearances matter. We can’t look like we’re losing control. To the outside world we have to present that strong, successful front. There’s already been enough talk about Scarlett in the press. Enough murmurings when I fucked up in front of the other directors.

“It doesn’t matter.” I state. “It will be worth it.”

When this situation is resolved, when Scarlett is at peace and all of this is sorted, then we will all know that this fight was worth the effort.

He doesn’t argue with me, which tells me well enough that I’m right.

Besides, what else can we do at this point? We have no other options. We have to see this through, ensure Scarlett is taken care of properly.

“Well, the doctor is done.” He replies. “You might as well go up.”

There’s a glint in his eye, a look I don’t have the energy to explore this evening. Without another word, I walk out of the smoking room.

This house has always had its own particular brand of silence.

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