Page 75 of Wreckage of Us
“I’ll always be with you,” her voice echoes in my ear, but I can’t see her anywhere. My heart is beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe. If something happens to her… to our baby…
I turn around to grab Ethan. Except, he is not on the couch anymore. It’s like he just vanished.
“Ethan,” I yell his name out loud, as loud as my lungs will let me. “This is not funny, Get back here right now!”
Only silence meets my ears, and I can’t stand it.
“Ethan! Becca!” I yell over and over, but nothing. “Fuck!”
“You always say that,” Becca’s laughter rings in my ear. “It’ll be our baby’s first word, Dylan. Not cool.”
I want to chuckle at her last comment, but my body won’t let me. I struggle to take a deep breath in, but something is chocking me. My arms feel like they’re weighing a ton when I try to lift them to my throat. And it hurts. Everything hurts.
“Dylan, calm down,” Becca’s firm voice orders me from somewhere in the distance, but I am too far gone to understand what she’s talking about. I am calm, I think to myself, I just can’t fuckin’ breathe properly.
All of a sudden, more hands push me down, holding me hostage, making me panic more.
“Check his pupils,” a male voice calls over the chaos. Who the fuck is this? “We need to take the tube out,” he continues like I’m not even here, but I can’t see him either.
Burning pain in the back of my throat like I never felt before threatens to rip my insides apart.
“It’s out,” a second male voice calls out. My mouth feels funny now and when I try to swallow, it’s like I got millions of needles sticking into the inside of my throat.
“Mr. Knight,” a female voice talks to me. “Can you open your eyes for me now?”
At first, I wonder why she’s asking me that. What’s the big deal about opening my eyes, until I realize that I’m in the dark. I try to open my eyes, but nothing happens. Shit, this is not good.
“Check his pupils again,” the male voice from earlier orders in a brisk tone.
A flash of bright light shines into one eye, then the other, making me groan in pain.
“He’s fine,” someone calls. “It’s just the shock. He needs to calm down.”
“Get Becca back,” the voice from before says. “I think that’ll help him. We need to wean him off the morphine now. He needs to have a good sleep without any sleeping aids.”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Becca sounds all out of breath, and I swear I can feel her next to me. Then, she touches my hand, running the tips of her fingers softly over my skin. I can breathe now.
I have no idea how long we stay like that for. My head is such a mess. I don’t understand where I am or why.
Until it hits me.
I’ve been shot. My father shot me. Becca was there.PregnantBecca was there.
“Fuck,” I manage to croak out, and my eyes blink open. The light hitting them is so bright, it’s hurting my eyeballs.
“Oh my god, you’re awake!”
I turn my head sideways and finally see Becca. She is blurry, very blurry, I think with a start, and try to shake my head a bit to clear my vision, but she is here.
“Hey,” I say, or at least try. My throat feels as if it is coated with shredded glass. This is the worst sore throat in history, I muse.
“Hi,” she covers her mouth with both hands, a sob still escaping.
“Are you…” The more I try to talk, the worse it gets.
“I’m okay,” she rushes to say, guessing what my question was going to be. “We’re all okay,” she assures me.
The relief flooding my body is palpable. I can finally relax. I close my eyes again, and I think I fall asleep because the next time I open them again, the room is shrouded in darkness.
