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“I called an ambulance, and rode with you because . . .” I let my voice die because I don’t want to talk about us, or about me not wanting to let him go. Again.
“Why?”
His voice is raspy, strained, and there is an undertone of suffering that stabs me in the heart.
“Because . . . I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why?”
I nearly laugh out loud, but the innocence and shock in his tone makes me want to cry.
I’m a cry-baby. I cry all the time, but this time it’s coming from deep inside my soul. It’s as if finding him like this, broken, dejected, and destroyed, has pierced something inside me that’s rising to the surface in big, monstrous waves. Something I can’t stop even if I want to.
“Because you needed help, and I could give it to you.”
The corners of his mouth go down and I wonder if it’s because of something I said, but I don’t have time to investigate because the nurse is back.
In a way, I’m glad, because I couldn’t have answered another ‘why?’ without telling him everything.
“I’ll wait outside while they do what they need to do,” I say, before standing up from the chair.
I witness his hands moving, as if reaching for me, trembling. They form a fist, and stop. In my mind, I urge him to keep going, to reach out to me, to prove to me that in some way he recognised me. Instead, his hand falls back on the sheet, and he turns his head away from me. I take that as a goodbye, and I walk away. But then I think better of it and voice my desire.
“I’ll be back later,” I say, and then turn around, but not before I witness his shoulders relax and the grip he has on the sheets get lighter.
I keep walking, but this time it’s with a smile on my lips, and hope inside my heart.
Maybe, just maybe, I can still help him.
Chapter Four
Gael
This time, when I open my eyes a ray of light hits them, and I can’t keep the sigh of relief inside.
The light hurts, so I close them and relax against the pillow. I’m still in a nearly seated position to keep the swelling down, and so it doesn’t get worse. Not sure how much worse it could be, as I can barely see right now. The doctor told me I have fifteen fractures between both eye sockets.
I hope to be able to see enough today. I want to see my face and assess the damage those fuckers managed to inflict. It doesn’t really matter, as I have plenty of scars on my body, some that are not even visible to the human eye. Some, the deep scars, are inside my heart and my head, and never leave me alone.
You could be dead.
I’m unsure if I should thank my brain or let it know it’s stating the obvious. As soon as I’d realised it was a trap, and I didn’t have any way to escape, I thought I was dead. I’m actually surprised that I’m not.
You should be more grateful. Yep, my brain is on a roll of stating the obvious as many times as it needs to.
I need to thank the guy who took time away from his Christmas shopping to help me.
Cameron.
They have the same name . . . and they’re full of the same kindness.
Cammy would have done the same. Helping others in need was second nature to him. A calling. Maybe because he knew how hard it was to live through a difficult situation.
I still haven’t had the chance to talk to the guy, mostly because I’ve spent my time sleeping. It’s been a long time since I slept so soundly and without keeping one of my eyes open. Also, because the guy never seems to be here whenever I open my eyes.
I’m curious to put a face to the voice. I can’t even imagine what he looks like, because every time I try, images of Cammy fill my head. Even his voice does strange things to me, and it’s been a while since that’s happened. A warm feeling, like the one you have when you’re becoming whole after a long time. A feeling I haven’t had in a while.
Since Cameron.
