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The first time, I hear crying - a piercing sound, in a voice that sounds like heartbreak. Whoever is crying, must have had their entire world shattered with the way they’re carrying on. For some reason, the voice rips at my heartstrings. Her pain is causing me pain and I want to go and comfort her.
But I can’t. I can’t move.
“Luke,” she says, in that same haunting tone that tugs at a vital piece of my memory. “Please hold on. Please, you have to hold on for me.”
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I know she’s talking to me, but I can’t put the words together in any way that makes sense. Even just thinking about it exhausts me, and I let the urge to fade again, take me.
The next time I come to, there’s a chatter of different voices. They’re talking in hurried tones, shooting rapid-fire words that mean nothing to me.
"Shit. We're losing him."
"Blood pressure dropping rapidly."
"We need to work quickly."
Accompanying those voices are the incessant beeping of monitors, the sound slowly rising louder and louder over everything else. I want to tell someone to turn the damn noise off because I’m trying to sleep. But once again, I can’t move my body or open my mouth. So, I just listen to the words and keep breathing, even though my chest gets tighter, and my head gets lighter. I hold on, because the woman before, told me to. I hold on for her, for as long as possible until I drift again.
The next time I have consciousness, I can feel my body, again . My mouth is dry as sand, and my whole-body aches, radiating from my stomach and leg. The areas feel pierced and heavy. And I can’t really feel my other limbs, but I can feel my hands. In particular, I can feel the hand in mine, grasping tightly like the person never wants to let go. I hold it tightly too, holding on to something I don’t even know.
I try to squeeze the hand, but I don’t quite manage. What I do manage to do though, is pull my eyes open, trying not to groan at the light that instantly floods them.
There’s a single fluorescent light over me and it competes with the light pouring in from the wide ceiling-to-floor windows. A machine is by my bedside, wires, and tubes running from it, into me.
It takes little deductive reasoning to figure out that I’m in a hospital.
Mia is right here with me, holding my hand tightly, like she never wants to let go.
She’s asleep, her head beside me on the bed, while her body sits on a chair. She’s resting her face on her hands and I can hear a light snore escape her as she sleeps. Once we argued about whether she snores or not. She insists she doesn’t, and I eventually agree to placate her. But the truth is she does snore a little, and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.
I watched her for so long, drawing in her simple, unfathomable beauty. I can just make out her eyelashes over her hands, but it's more than just her features. It's like there's a glow about her, which affects everything she touches.
I piece together what happened as I admire her, thanking God that I'm alive. If I was dead, I wouldn’t get to watch her like this anymore, looking so beautiful as she rests beside me.
I don’t know if Mia feels my gaze, but her brows furrow suddenly, her eyes fluttering open. She stares off into space for a few seconds, but she always does that when she gets up. She tells me that her brain needs time to boot back up after a nap. Once again, adorable.
When she finally decides she understands the world again, she slowly straightens, and her face shows all the stress and worry of the past few hours. That is, until her gaze catches mine.
She jerks when she realizes I’m awake and her mouth falls open.
“Hey,” I say smiling, wanting to kiss her but not strong enough yet, to reach for her.
“You’re awake.” Her voice trembles, then finally a smile lights up her face. It’s like the clouds parting for dawn.
I grin, teasingly. “Am I not supposed to be? Because I gotta tell you, it takes a lot more than three gunshot wounds to get rid of me.”
“Oh my God!” She exclaims and leaps into my arms, but that presses her weight over my abdomen. Pain shoots throughout my whole body and I can’t stop the groan that escapes me.
“Oh sorry. I’m sorry.” She retreats instantly, hands fluttering over my body apologetically. "I didn’t mean to. But…I’m so happy you’re awake." Her eyes are teary, her voice watery.
“I’m happy I’m awake too," I say smiling and needing to kiss her, but not being able to move much. “Now can you give me a kiss for my trouble?”
She nodded tearfully and pressed a watery kiss on my lips. I feel it all, her love for me, her fear, every emotion she’s gone through for the past few hours.
And I try to return the favor, showing her my love, and how happy I am that she wasn't hurt in any of this.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my lips. “Thank you for holding on.”
“It was alright. I didn’t do much. Mostly just laid there."
