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“My husband…” The ambulance turns quickly, and my head spins with the motion. I can’t complete my sentence.
“Is he the one they took into custody?” he asks as he looks toward his coworker.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Asshole. Did he shoot that girl?”
“I heard they found a gun on him.”
Another swift turn from the ambulance, and I roll my head to the side, vomiting on the floor before the EMT manages to get a container below my head. I hurl again before I pass out.
When I come to, I’m in a dim hospital room with a tube running into my arm. My lips are dry and cracked. My head is pounding, and I can’t make sense of my surroundings. I blink a few times, and a nurse comes into the room to check on me.
“Hello, Mrs. Kearney,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
“What happened?” My throat burns.
“Just relax now.” She holds a cup of water with a straw to my mouth. “Have a little water, but don’t try to talk just yet.”
“Don’t try to talk. You’ve been through a trying ordeal, but you’re safe now.”
I push the water away and try to sit up, but the nurse pushes me down by the shoulders and tells me to lie still.
“Not safe,” I mutter as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Where’s Kathy? Where’s Deklan?”
“Just relax…”
“I don’t want to relax!” I yell back at her, and the tears start to fall. “Oh my God! Oh my God! She’s dead, isn’t she? She’s dead!”
My throat hurts, but I can’t stop screaming as the nurse holds me. A moment later, another nurse comes in and injects something into my IV, and I feel my muscles give out as I drop back down and close my eyes.
*****
My temples pound as I sit up on the hospital bed with my arms wrapped around my knees. Every time I swallow, my throat aches and my eyes burn. I’m acutely aware of every sound around me, from the beeping of monitors at the nurses’ station outside my door to the shuffling of visitors’ feet across the floor. I hear every keystroke on the computers and the ring of every phone. I focus on the benign noises, trying to make sense of it all.
Nothing feels real.
When I close my eyes, I see blue and red flashes and a blanket on the ground, so I keep them open. I stare down at the mattress through the gap between my thighs and take careful note of every wrinkle in the sheet.
Gentle rocking contrasts with the painful position I’m lying in. The smell of mold and dead fish permeates my nostrils and leaves me feeling sick. My hip and shoulder hurt, and I can’t move enough to adjust my position. Something holds my mouth open.
The sound of laughter invades my ears. I can’t see. The smell of sweat and fish makes me feel sick. There’s a bitter taste in the back of my throat, and I can’t breathe. My wrists burn from the tight ropes.
I jerk out of my memories and squeeze my eyes shut. I need to find another thought to focus my attention, but no suitable replacements are within my grasp. I keep hearing the blast of a gunshot, and my ears start ringing all over again. I have no idea how much time has passed. I don’t want to know.
A nurse comes in. Behind her is another woman who smiles gently as she says hello and pulls up a rolling chair to the side of the hospital bed.
“My name is Elizabeth,” she says. “I’m a counselor here at the hospital. How are you feeling, Kera?”
I don’t answer or look up. I find the question ridiculous.
“I’ve talked to your doctor,” Elizabeth says as the nurse finishes checking me out and walks out of the room. “Seems like you are ready to be discharged soon.”
I find this news to be irrelevant. It changes nothing.
“Before you go, I’d like to ask you about these.” She points to the small bruises on my upper arm. “Did you get those last night?”
I glance at my arm, recalling the small marks reflected in the bathroom mirror. I didn’t even remember Deklan holding me that tightly.
