Page 156 of For I Have Sinned

“Tired,” I admit, softly smiling, hoping it will reassure her that she does not need to worry. “I’m okay, Mom.”

“I know,” she says sadly. “But I was so worried when I heard you had been shot.”

The sensation of the bullet piercing through my skin floods my mind. The pain that I felt as soon as it entered my body was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. My clothes were soaking up the blood that was gushing out of my body, and then the fear took over.

How was I supposed to keep Celine safe while I was lying there, bleeding out? I tried to push through it to get to her, but it was too excruciating. I could barely move. I had to remember that Celine was strong and clever. If anyone could make it out of this alive, it would be her.

At that thought, the other images and feelings take over. My vision began to narrow as I was losing consciousness, but I fought through it to make sure she was going to be okay. It was terrible having to be immobilized, watching Celine fight for her life while Father Keaton was attacking her.

How he broke her wrist.

How she got out of his grasp only to have him caging her to the floor with the gun to her head. I told her I loved her because I do. More than anything in this world, and I knew that if I was going to die, I couldn’t leave this Earth without telling her how I felt about her.

Darkness started to cloud my vision as I heard a pop ring through the room. The same sound that was emitted when I was shot.

I didn’t know who took the bullet, but when Celine came into the small tunnel of my vision and knelt by my side, telling me how much she loved me and how we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, I knew she was safe.

At her love confession, I felt content. I stopped fighting the urge to keep my eyes open any longer. I allowed myself to relax and let the Grim Reaper take me. Shaking my head of the thoughts, I look to my mom.

“Where is Celine? Is she okay?” I attempt to sit up more in the hospital bed, pain tearing through me.

“Honey, don’t try to move so much.” She inches forward in her seat, willing to stand up and stop me if I move another inch.

“But Celine⁠—”

“She’s okay,” she reassures me. “She just ran to grab some coffee.”

As if we summoned her, Celine comes through the door, her back pushing it open while she struggles to carry two paper coffee cups. The green cast on her arm is preventing her from holding one cup normally, so she has it tucked against her body.

“They are starting to give me the coffee for free,” She lets out a small laugh. “I think they feel bad for me.”

She enters the door, her eyes finding mine. Her hand loosens around the paper cup, and she almost drops it, but my mom quickly stands and takes both cups from her.

Celine’s eyes fill with tears. “You’re awake.”

“And you’re okay.” I let out a sigh of relief.

She rushes to my bedside. “Besides the broken wrist and bruised rib, I’m okay. But you… Alex, I was so worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” I smile at her, lifting my hand to cup her cheek because I need to feel her warm skin against mine. “I’m alive, and you’re here.”

Celine returns the smile, melting under my touch. “I’m here.”

I brush my thumb along her skin and ask, “How long have I been out?”

“A few days.” My mom answers. “You’ve been in and out, but when you were awake, it was only for a couple of seconds.”

“The pain meds must be strong because I don’t remember waking up before now,” I say, dropping my hand to hold Celine’s.

“They are giving you a high dose and will lower it over time,” Celine informs me. “I’m sure the doctor will come talk to you about all of it, but they want to keep you in the hospital for a while.”

“We should probably let the doctor know you are awake.” My mom states, then presses the call button on the remote attached to my bed.

It’s only a few seconds before a nurse comes in to see me awake before she fetches the doctor. The man who enters is around my mom’s age, with salt-and-pepper hair and a bit of scruff. His smile is broad as he assesses my face.

“Welcome back, Alex,” he says, approaching the side of my bed. “I’m Doctor Allen. How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted, in a bit of pain,” I answer.