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I pushed the red button on the bed rail next to me.
“You’re awake! We’ll be right in,” the friendly voice said.
Within seconds, several people moved into the room. A doctor, a nurse, and what I assumed were two detectives based on their clothing. One man and one woman. The doctor came around to my right while the nurse walked around the room gathering supplies. Another nurse walked in and smiled briefly at me as she headed over to my IV. She had light blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and high cheekbones. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before.
A throat clear got my attention, and I looked over to the doctor.
“I’m Doctor Wyatt. Do you know where you are?” He seemed nice enough. His demeanor was serious, but not unpleasant. He had a gentle smile and kind green eyes. He had thick auburn hair that was about half grey, evenly spread throughout.
“County General, I’d imagine. It’s the closest to the church.” My brows knit together, and I looked down at my hands, which clasped together when I mentioned the church.
“Yes,” Doctor Wyatt said. “You had significant injuries and needed emergency surgery. There was the obvious injury caused by the piece of wood you had in your side, but there was also internal bleeding. The damage to the lower part of your liver was minimal. Leaving the wood in likely saved your life. Had you removed it, you would have bled out in minutes. We were able to get to it in time.
“I expect you to make a full recovery. You’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks—maybe more. We just have to see how quickly you heal. Liver injuries are serious, and you need to be monitored until we know the risk of re-injury has passed. Once that happens, there will be restrictions in place, and those will lighten as you recover. You were very lucky. An injury like this could have been so much worse.”
I heard everything he said, but it was all like before. Part of my brain understood while the other part took the information in and spat it right back out. I was still in shock.
Still, that didn’t stop me from looking up at him as if on autopilot, and saying, “My parents are dead. Everyone is dead. I wouldn’t call that luck.”
The male detective at the end of the bed cleared his throat, the doctor becoming visibly annoyed.
“Not right now,” Doctor Wyatt said. “Let her rest. She’s been through hell.”
“We need to ask her some questions. Pastor Montgomery—”
“Not right now,” the doctor interrupted. He walked to the end of the bed with purpose, his shoulders rigid, and his hands balled into fists.
Pastor Montgomery! I needed to know how he was. I was wrong. Noteveryonewas dead. He’d been there and helped me. I helped him, too. He was probably a good part of the reason I was still alive. He was a combat medic in the military before he became a Baptist preacher.
“How are you feeling, sweetie?” the nurse messing with my IV asked. Her name tag saidAngela, RN BSN.
I looked up at her as her eyes darted between the doctor and back to me. She plastered on a smile, and I could tell she was uncomfortable and trying to distract me from the argument at the end of the bed.
“…almostdied. Shejustwoke up from a long surgery. Let her rest. Theonlyreason you’re in here right now is because you agreed to no questions, and it was possible she might say something about what happened on her own. With no prodding.”
“I—I’m okay,” I responded to her, though I wasn’t looking at her. I stared at the foot of my bed with great interest.
Who almost died? Me?
“Well, she’s fine now,” the male detective said.
Doctor Wyatt pointed to the door, and he angrily walked toward it, the detectives right behind him. Even with the door shut, I could still pick up their argument.
“What would you rate your pain? One being barely anything at all and ten being the worst pain of your life,” the nurse said, once again trying to distract me.
I ignored her for a moment and focused on the door. “The surgeon lost her three times in there. That bleed was significant even if the laceration was minor,” Doctor Wyatt said. His voice radiated with passion and anger, which wasn’t something I was used to seeing in doctors around here. He was advocating for his patient—for me—and I deeply appreciated it. Thelastthing I wanted to do right then was relive that nightmare by answering all their questions.
“I almost died three times?” I asked, looking up at Nurse Angela.
A sad smile crept across her lips as her head tilted. Her hand reached out and rested on my shoulder. “Yes, sweetheart. When you came in, you were unconscious. Your pulse was very slow. They did the tests and scans necessary to create a surgical plan that would give you the best chance of survival, but right after, you were rushed into surgery. It was touch and go for a while. You lost a lot of blood.”
I nodded. “Thank you for the honesty,” I said. I knew they’d sugarcoated it because I was just a kid to them, legal adult or not, and more than likely also because I’m weak right now.
“I know you’ve suffered a lot of loss. Is there anyone else we can call for you? You’ll need someone to take care of you when you get home,” Angela said.
I shook my head. “Just Pastor Montgomery. He and my dad were like brothers. They grew up together, so he’s basically my uncle. I’m sure he’ll help take care of me. When can I see him?”
Angela’s mouth opened slightly and then closed as darkness fell across her gentle features. Dread settled in my stomach, and I swallowed hard.
