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Tina's eyes looked pained, and she was the one who had to give me the news.
“Your daughter is in critical condition, Mr. Blackthorn,” she said.
“But she's alive? I need to see her, please,” I said.
“I'll talk to the doctor,” she said. “Just give me a second.”
My cheeks were wet, but I don't remember crying. Watching Tina walk over to her desk and pick up the phone, everything seemed to slow down. Maybe this was a dream, I thought. A nightmare. I'd wake up, and it would all be over.
Please, God, let that be true.
Nothing felt real, so I convinced myself I'd wake up sooner or later. I'd wake up beside my beautiful wife and daughter.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as Landon helped me get to my feet.
My head was throbbing. That's when I realized it couldn't be a dream.
Shannon was gone. The realization of it sucked the air from my lungs.
Please, let my little girl make it.
Tina came back to us, her voice thick with emotion and her face solemn as she said to me, “The doctor said you can see her, but that you need to be prepared for the worst.”
“The worst?” I croaked.
Thinking back on her words, in my head, I knew what she meant, but in that moment, it was like she was speaking another language.
“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Tina didn't answer. Instead, she said, “I'll let you talk to the doctor after you visit with Ava,” she said.
She took my arm and led me away from Landon and my mother, escorting me down a long hallway. We walked for what felt like an eternity until she stopped outside of a room with the door cracked open. Inside, were the beeps and buzzing of what looked like a hundred machines. There was so much noise coming from the room.
Ava's blonde head rested against a white pillow. If it hadn't been for the tubes running in and out of her, and the machines hooked up to her, she'd appear to be sleeping. She looked almost peaceful, even. Too peaceful. My throat closed up, and my breath caught in my throat as I stepped closer and saw how pale she was. The top of her head was bandaged, her right eye bruised and blackened as if someone had punched her.
My face was wet from fresh tears. I watched them fall onto bed sheets that were startlingly white. Ava's tiny hand rested against her chest, so I picked it up, taking it in mine. Her entire hand fit into the palm of mine, and I squeezed it, hoping she'd know I was there.
I looked down at her hand. As I held onto it, I realized that something didn't feel right. I searched my brain, trying to figure it out, and it took me awhile to understand what it was.
Her skin was ice cold.
I ran a hand over her forehead, and she was cold to the touch. I pulled the blanket up higher, just like I would if we were home and she was cold. I'd be tucking her in by now most nights, after reading her a bedtime story or two. Her stuffed unicorn would be tucked under her chin. That stupid unicorn had taken a beating and was ragged and threadbare, but she loved it. She had to sleep with it every single night.
It didn't feel right that her unicorn wasn't here now. I'd have to remember to bring it with me.
Her chest rose and fell slowly, too slowly even for sleep. I stroked her hand and kissed her forehead.
“Be strong, Ava. Be strong for daddy, please?” I asked her, my tears wetting her soft skin. “I can't lose you, baby.”
My little girl had me and her momma in her, which meant that she was a fighter. She could fight her way through this.
She would.
She had to.
“I love you, Ava,” I whispered, stroking her hand.
As soon as I said those words, everything changed. Her chest stopped moving, and the machines behind us went crazy, making all kinds of noise. There was a loud beeping that went on and on and on, and doctors filled the room, pushing me aside.
