Leave a Trace: Book Two

Chapter Eighteen: Tears

Chapter Eighteen: Tears

I guess he got a subdural hematoma and had to get brain surgery with a scope up his nose. When he didn't wake in enough time they said he slipped into a coma.

Still, I've called five different doctors just to make sure all of them know what they're doing and they all tell me the same thing.

He had a hemorrhage in his brain from his head hitting the concrete. They had to go in and repair it and in the process his brain swelled which is normal and it caused the coma. They all told me that when and if the swelling goes down he will wake up. He could wake up perfectly normal, he could wake up and be awake but hot him, or he could wake up and be unable to move. He could wake up with memory loss too.

I'm hoping for the first one.

I cry a lot but I keep forcing myself to take care of the twins. Everyone helps me and they take them during the night.

"How about you go home?" Mom asks. "Get some rest?"

"Everyone keeps asking me to go home." I snap. "Stop asking me to go home. I'm not going home. I'm staying here until he tells me to go home. Stop telling me to go home. You don't know what it's like, so stop fucking telling me to go home. I'm not going home."

Nobody says a word and I turn all my attention back to Zane, silently praying for him to wake up.

He's going to wake up. He has to.

He's Alexander fucking Caulton for fucks sake.

He's going to wake up.

He has to, right?

Right?

_____

"You know?" I mumble to my unconscious husband. "Do you remember that time when you came back from Washington? You moved here, remember babe? And you gave me that massage and the next day I thought it was a dream? Remember that? Well I wish this was a dream." I look down at my hands, my eyes filling with tears. "I miss you, Zane. I miss you a lot. I'm lonely, and if somebody told me three years ago that you'd be..." I trail off. "Like this." I whisper, my voice thick with pain. "I'd probably punch them out...and you've seen me fling my body around a bar like a rag doll, so you know I have the strength to punch somebody out." I swallow. "I wish you would wake up and talk with me. I miss you." I study my hands. "I'd rather physical pain than emotional." At that, my throat closes up and a sob shakes my body. I pull my knees to my chest and grab his hand again. "With physical pain..." I sniffle and tears roll down my cheeks. "You can take pills and stuff to feel better. You can put cornstarch on a cut-don't ask how I know that-and you can stop the bleeding. But emotional? It's so much worse. It makes your entire body ache with a pain that can't be cured without the fixing of the thing that fucked you up to begin with." I sniffle. "I don't know if that makes any sense, but I hurt worse than I ever did in high school. I hurt worse than when you broke up with me. Sometimes I can't even cry, I'm just here. My mind is a fucking demon, Zane, and I'm so pissed off at the world. I was mad at you at first but it's not your fault. You're innocent in this. If you come out of this...well, I promise that we can have eight kids. We can have them, all eight of them. I'll give them to you. I'll give you anything, and I feel stupid for talking to you because I'm not sure you can even hear me...but I feel so alone." I look down at our hands. "But this time around we should go to a class to learn how to properly give birth and how to do an examination to know if I'm dilating or whatever, that way if I go into labor in the truck or something we'll know what to do...and we should keep rubbing alcohol and scissors and a clamp or something in the car. You know what? We could do home births. I don't like hospitals, not after this and after that nurse dropped that baby. I wonder if that baby is okay." I frown. "I wonder if you're gonna be okay." I sniffle. "My fucking heart hurts, Zane. Wake up." I cradle his hand to my face and cry against it. "Come back to me." I whimper. "Please."