and every memory of my girl comes back to me, I greedily horde all of her smiles, frowns, and peaceful stares into my memory bank. My goal is to put them into a place in my mind so that if I’m pushed back into the darkness, I can find her burning bright somewhere in the fucking abyss.
“War.”
Dad’s voice has spoken to me intermittently, a constant lifeline in my dark hell. Sometimes I’m able to grasp onto it and pull myself out. Other times, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to latch on and free myself.
The nurses and doctors think they’re helping me by sedating me but the medications don’t help. They thrust me right back into the nightmares I’ve grown so accustomed to. But this time, it’s harder to break free of them. This time, I feel more lost than ever before.
The few moments of clarity I’ve had were spent obsessing. Being stuck in a hospital, it has nearly driven me to the brink of ultimate madness, knowing the entire building is crawling with toxins and germs.
“War.”
I hear my father again. This time, I reach for him. His warm hand envelops my own and it pulls me from the darkness. Not long ago, I’d have been horrified to touch him but now I crave his comfort. With several slow blinks, I see my worried father keeping vigil at my bedside.
Baylee.
I try to say her name but I’m still unable to speak. I’m not sure what this means but I’m completely unaware of what’s going on with my body. I feel as though I’m a hurricane of thoughts trapped in an unmoving corpse.
“You have to get better, son,” Dad tells me with tears in his eyes. “You’re living in your head. I need you out here with me, boy.”
My throat aches with emotion but no tears come. I know I’m not paralyzed because I can feel his grief all the way down to my toes. But, I can’t move or speak.
Just blink.
“Baylee needs you.” His words cause my eyes to burn. I wish I could cry for my girl. To show any signs of improvement so I can get her back.
But the moment I blink, the threat of tears disappears.
“Do you have any idea where he could have taken her? The police have gone to her house but she’s not there.”
I close my eyes and her pretty blue orbs blink back at me. Perfect, small nose tinged in pink from the sun. Pouty, peachy lips ripe for tasting. God, I want to touch her.
Reopening my eyes, I try to scan my body to find exactly what’s wrong with me. What it is that seems to be sitting on my chest holding me pressed against the bed. But when my eyes peruse over the blanket, I don’t see any weights. Just a thin hospital gown.
“You were shot,” Dad says softly and points to my chest. “Do you remember?”
My eyes meet his and I nod. It’s difficult with the drugs in my system but he sees.
“The bullet went through your shoulder. It hit one of your ribs on the way and cracked it but didn’t break it. The bullet punctured your left lung, which collapsed during surgery. You’re intubated until your lungs heal a bit more. Eventually you’ll be able to start some pulmonary therapies to regain usage of that lung.”
I close my eyes again and wonder if the bullet had been infected with anything. Had Gabe touched it or not handled it properly before loading it into that chamber? What if he’d been in contact with something toxic? Does that mean it could potentially poison my bloodstream?
The heart monitor begins racing which only causes me to panic more. Each time I awake and my mind gets out of control with my obsessions, the nurses come back in to “calm” me down.
But it doesn’t calm me down. It sends me hurtling right back into the dangerous depths of my mind.
Warren, chill the fuck out.
Dad squeezes my hand and I pop my eyes back open. He’s frowning and keeps glancing at the heart monitor.
“Relax. I need you here with me. We need you to get better so we can find where he took her,” he says firmly, his voice the stern one he’d use whenever I was in trouble as a
“War.”
Dad’s voice has spoken to me intermittently, a constant lifeline in my dark hell. Sometimes I’m able to grasp onto it and pull myself out. Other times, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to latch on and free myself.
The nurses and doctors think they’re helping me by sedating me but the medications don’t help. They thrust me right back into the nightmares I’ve grown so accustomed to. But this time, it’s harder to break free of them. This time, I feel more lost than ever before.
The few moments of clarity I’ve had were spent obsessing. Being stuck in a hospital, it has nearly driven me to the brink of ultimate madness, knowing the entire building is crawling with toxins and germs.
“War.”
I hear my father again. This time, I reach for him. His warm hand envelops my own and it pulls me from the darkness. Not long ago, I’d have been horrified to touch him but now I crave his comfort. With several slow blinks, I see my worried father keeping vigil at my bedside.
Baylee.
I try to say her name but I’m still unable to speak. I’m not sure what this means but I’m completely unaware of what’s going on with my body. I feel as though I’m a hurricane of thoughts trapped in an unmoving corpse.
“You have to get better, son,” Dad tells me with tears in his eyes. “You’re living in your head. I need you out here with me, boy.”
My throat aches with emotion but no tears come. I know I’m not paralyzed because I can feel his grief all the way down to my toes. But, I can’t move or speak.
Just blink.
“Baylee needs you.” His words cause my eyes to burn. I wish I could cry for my girl. To show any signs of improvement so I can get her back.
But the moment I blink, the threat of tears disappears.
“Do you have any idea where he could have taken her? The police have gone to her house but she’s not there.”
I close my eyes and her pretty blue orbs blink back at me. Perfect, small nose tinged in pink from the sun. Pouty, peachy lips ripe for tasting. God, I want to touch her.
Reopening my eyes, I try to scan my body to find exactly what’s wrong with me. What it is that seems to be sitting on my chest holding me pressed against the bed. But when my eyes peruse over the blanket, I don’t see any weights. Just a thin hospital gown.
“You were shot,” Dad says softly and points to my chest. “Do you remember?”
My eyes meet his and I nod. It’s difficult with the drugs in my system but he sees.
“The bullet went through your shoulder. It hit one of your ribs on the way and cracked it but didn’t break it. The bullet punctured your left lung, which collapsed during surgery. You’re intubated until your lungs heal a bit more. Eventually you’ll be able to start some pulmonary therapies to regain usage of that lung.”
I close my eyes again and wonder if the bullet had been infected with anything. Had Gabe touched it or not handled it properly before loading it into that chamber? What if he’d been in contact with something toxic? Does that mean it could potentially poison my bloodstream?
The heart monitor begins racing which only causes me to panic more. Each time I awake and my mind gets out of control with my obsessions, the nurses come back in to “calm” me down.
But it doesn’t calm me down. It sends me hurtling right back into the dangerous depths of my mind.
Warren, chill the fuck out.
Dad squeezes my hand and I pop my eyes back open. He’s frowning and keeps glancing at the heart monitor.
“Relax. I need you here with me. We need you to get better so we can find where he took her,” he says firmly, his voice the stern one he’d use whenever I was in trouble as a
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