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They told me I’d died.
My heart had stopped beating after what he’d given me.
Blinking slowly, I glanced off to the wall. My brain felt sluggish, like my head was filled with cotton wool.
What happened to John? I hadn’t asked.
Why hadn’t I asked?
It should have been the first thing on my mind. Instead, I’d just felt relief that I was okay.
Guilt ate at my stomach.
Before I could call someone to find out, the door opened. Mum and Dad were there. Tears pricked my eyes. Mum was already crying as she rushed over and gently hugged me. Through my watery gaze, I met Dad’s soft one. Even his eyes held moisture. I reached out, and he took my hand instantly.
“You’re okay. You’ll get through this. We’re here. Lean on us, sweetie,” Mum cooed, brushing my hair from my eyes. Her eyes lingered on the cut on my face that was covered by a bandage, the bruises, the swollen eye.
But I was alive.
Nodding, I tried for a smile, but it wobbled. “I know, Mum.” When I noticed the nurse who brought them in starting to leave, I called out, “Excuse me.” As soon as the nurse looked back, I continued, “John. The man in the ambulance. Is he all right?”
When the nurse didn’t answer right away and I looked at my parents, I knew.
My throat closed over as a sob caught. “No,” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling. “No.”
“Sweetie.” Mum tried pulling me close, but I shook my head and pushed her back.
“It should have beenme!” I screamed. “He has a wife, a family. It should have been me.”
He didn’t deserve to die.
God. Moreen would be devastated. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.
Tears welled and fell, and I pushed Mum back again. A sound I’d never made before broke out of me.
“Sir, you can’t—”
“Get the fuck out,” I heard Dad bark, and next, I was lifted and on Dad’s lap. I tried to get away. I tried to fight his hold. “Darlin’, come here. Come on, baby.”
“No, no, no.” I pushed, I grabbed, I ripped, but Dad just held on to me.
“Baby girl.” He locked me in tight and rocked me. “Breathe, sweetheart, breathe.”
“Dad,” I cried.
“I know. I know it hurts.”
“His wife. His family.”
“I know. Fuckin’ unfair, sweetheart.”
I gripped his tee and held tight, crying into his chest. “It should have been me. He had a family.”
“No, sweetheart. I won’t fuckin’ hear it. What happened to him was a goddamn tragedy, but your life isn’t any less than his. We….” He cleared his throat. “We nearly lost you, Maya. We know his family’s pain. We get it. We can help them. Be there for them. But never say it should have been you, because you’re important to many as well.”
“Sweetie,” I heard Mum say softly and felt her at my back, careful of the stab wound that I knew would hurt worse if I wasn’t on pain medication. Then again, they’d told me it wasn’t that deep.
But none of that mattered.
