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I went in the ambulance with him. I held his hand, begging him to open his beautiful emerald eyes, so I could see them again. I pleaded with him not to leave me. It hurt so much when I lost him ten years ago, but at least back then I knew he was still out there somewhere, living his life.
There’s no version of this world I want to live in if Evan’s not in it. I can’t survive without him, not now I know we’re supposed to be together. This was supposed to be our second chance, but we haven’t had enough time together. We deserve more time. This can’t be it for us.
The whole drive, my eyes flicked from looking at Evan, then up to his heart monitor. The beeping that was replicating his heart rate became like a lullaby to me. I grasped onto the sound with every fibre of my soul, and I held onto it, knowing it was the last piece of Evan.
When the machine stopped beating rhythmically and turned into one long, loud, high-pitched beep, my heart cracked open. The paramedic beside me sprang to action, ripping my hand from Evan’s as she began giving him some medication before starting CPR.
She was yelling at the paramedic driving the ambulance, but I have no idea what they were saying. It was like I was in my own little bubble, and all I could hear was the loud single beep that drilled through my head, giving me the worst news I never wanted.
I stared at the love of my life. Looking for any sign of life, but seeing only the way his skin grew paler, and his chest failed to rise when it should have. I watched as the paramedic shocked him, his back arching off the gurney as he went rigid. My eyes were fixed on the monitor, preying for just the slightest blip, showing he was coming back to me.
Nothing.
Darkness started to invade the corners of my vision, and a pain worse than anything I’ve ever felt before split my chest wide open. I didn’t know how my heart could continue to beat without him with me.
After the next shock, there was the slightest blip on the monitor, but it was just enough. I grasped hold of that hope with everything I had, and I watched as the paramedic pulled Evan back from the edge. Though his eyes never opened, his chest began to rise and fall again, and finally, I felt like I could breathe again too.
As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Evan was taken into an assessment room, and I was placed in the waiting room. I have no idea how long later it was, but they came to inform me they were taking him to surgery.
“His injuries are life threatening, and if we don’t operate now, it may be too late. We will do everything we can for Evan, but you may need to prepare yourself for the worst,” the doctor said.
His words have been repeating around my head for the last God knows how many hours, while I wait for news. I almost laughed when a new doctor walked into the waiting room, not long after the first had left.
Only this doctor went straight to Bree. He repeated the exact same speech, substituting Liam’s name for Evan’s. The fact they used the same words just seemed funny to me, despite there being absolutely fucking no humour in this situation at all.
Over the past eight hours, the waiting room at the local hospital seemed to get smaller and smaller. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been staring at the same four yellow walls for the entire time, or it’s the amount of people who have taken up residence in the room.
I was placed in the room first, all alone, and I remember looking around and thinking how bleak the space was. There were chairs along the three walls in a U shape, and a low coffeetable in the middle, full of trashy magazines that have probably been there for years. There’s no windows, and only one wall has a bright painting of a flowery meadow on it, the rest are just an ugly yellow colour.
I guess the room is supposed to be bright and reassuring, but to me, it seems almost bleak. Like it’s trying too hard and failing miserably.
As I look at all the chairs, trying to decide where I should sit—or if I should sit at all—I suddenly feel very alone. A chill spreads across my body as I start to tremble, and the tears that were filling my eyes begin to fall.
I move my hand to wipe away the tears, and a flash of red catches my eye. I look down and see I’m covered in blood, all over my dress and hands.
Evan’s blood.
I should feel self conscious that I’m wearing a very revealing little red dress, and probably look like a hooker, not to mention all the blood, but I can’t seem to find the energy to give a shit. I don’t want to wash the blood away, as it could be the last bit of Evan I ever get to touch.
The door behind me creaks open, and I turn around to see who it is, freezing when Bree steps into the room with a nurse. She places a reassuring hand on Bree’s shoulder and tells her they will be in to update her on her husband as quickly as they can.
As soon as the nurse leaves and the door closes, a deafening silence fills the room. We both just stand there frozen. We’re not even looking at each other, we’re just staring off into space, both in the same boat, yet unable to find any common ground.
I don’t know how long it is later when Bree finally snaps out of her trance, and moves to take a seat in the centre of the row of chairs facing the door. She watches me as I start to pace, lookingaround at the chairs, analysing which would be the best for me to choose.
I know it seems like a stupid thing to think about, but I want to make sure the chair I chose is the best for the nurse to find me.
It’s a small fucking room, Teigan. I don’t think she’ll miss you,I chastise myself. But I can’t stop the random way my brain is working, no matter how much I might fucking want to.
I’ve narrowed it down that I want to sit along the wall opposite the door, but as soon as I look up at the seat in the prime position, I find Bree has already taken it. I almost laugh out loud that she came to the same conclusion as me, only far sooner. Story of my fucking life—never quite quick enough or good enough.
Bree is just sitting there, looking as vacant as she has been since she stopped sobbing at the club, but the moment my eyes lock with hers, I watch as they spark back to life, just a little. Her movements are slow and precise, but she taps the chair beside her, motioning for me to sit with her.
Given it’s the second best seat in the house, I don’t hesitate. I walk over and sit beside her, breathing a small sigh of relief as I feel the warmth of her body beside mine. Suddenly, I’m not feeling quite so alone.
Bree must have been feeling the same, as I hear her let out a shuddered breath, before she reaches over and takes my hand in hers.
“What did the doctors say about Evan before they took him into surgery?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Yet in this small room, it sounds like she’s yelling.
