Saving Avery (29 page)

My eyes snap open, and I glance behind me to see two uniformed police officers stepping through the window I had broken through earlier. Their guns are drawn as they step towards Nathan. The look on Nathan's face is priceless --- shock, terror and despair all at once. "Officer, this man broke into my house and assaulted my wife!" he protests.

One of the officers says, "We'll figure all of that out later, but right now you need to drop the gun."

Nathan seems reluctant, not bothering to loosen his grip on the weapon. "I'm Nathan Mason. My father is Richard Mason. He's the Chief of Police at ---."

"I don't give a fuck who your father is right now. Drop the gun now or I will shoot you!" the other cop yells.

The standoff seems to last hours, but I know it can't be more than a few minutes. The thundering sound of my heart beat pulses in my ears as the blood runs from my shoulder. The room is quiet, and I can hear the steady drip of blood from my index finger to the floor below.

Chief Mason enters the room with his hands up in a supplicating gesture. "Nathan," he says with a commanding voice. "Put down the gun."

Nathan shakes his head. "Dad, you don't understand." He takes a step closer to me, his finger pressing against the trigger.

"You can make me understand later, but right now I want you to put the gun down."

"I can't do that." Nathan's hands begin to tremble as the gun shakes in his grip. "I have to end this."

"Nathan," his father says sternly. When Nathan's eyes dart up to meet his, he continues by saying, "You don’t have to do this, son. We'll work through whatever is going on here." When Nathan doesn't budge, he slowly says, "Don't make me do something I'll regret."

I watch as Chief Mason raises his own gun and points it towards his son. A myriad of emotions wash over Nathan's face, a mixture of resentment and disbelief.

Nathan returns his gaze to me. "I'm ending this. Now."

Without having time to react, two gunshots ring out almost simultaneously. I watch Nathan stumble backwards at the same time I do. He falls to the floor, crying out in pain. His father shot him in the arm, and the gun in his lifeless hand goes skittering across the hardwood floor.

It's over. It's finally over.

I press a hand to my chest as a sudden overwhelming pressure erupts inside of me. My fingers feel numb, wet. And when my eyes dart down to my hand, I realize it's covered in blood. Was I shot? My brain is too foggy to focus on anything at the moment.

An officer yells into his scanner, "Two gunshot victims. We need an ambulance here STAT!"

Two gunshot victims. Two.

Feeling weak, I turn and fall to my knees beside Avery. The blood is pouring from the wound in my chest and slowly pooling on the floor around me. "Avery!" I call out, but my voice sounds frail, disconnected.

I can hear people around me yelling out instructions, and two officers are wrestling Nathan to the ground. He's putting up a fight even with an injured arm. I blink, and I'm suddenly lying on the floor next to Avery. Pulling her hand in my mine, I hold onto her with every ounce of strength I'm able to muster. Her skin is so pale, and I can't tell if she's breathing anymore.

"Don't you dare give up, Avery." I grip her hand tightly. "Stay with me, baby." Tears trickle down my cheeks. I need her to be okay. I can't lose her. Not like this. Not to
him
. I'm starting to feel lightheaded, but I refuse to close my eyes and slip into unconsciousness.

People are rushing around me, putting pressure on my chest, but I can barely feel anything.

Agent Romero yells, "Stay awake, Max! The paramedics are on their way!"

I never break my grip with Avery; never turn my attention away from her. "You're going to make it, Avery. Do you hear me? You have to make it." I cough as blood fills my lungs and spills out between my lips. A sob escapes my throat as I realize I'm losing the fight against staying awake and that I may never see her beautiful eyes again. I don't want to leave her, but I don't have a choice now. The pain is taking over, and I can't stop the darkness from overtaking me. My grip on her loosens against my will. I stare at Avery until I can no longer keep my eyes open. The image of her beautiful face is forever etched into my brain…and it slowly fades to total darkness.

AVERY

My mouth feels like I've been walking for ten years through the Sahara Desert. My dry and cracked lips slowly part as I attempt to ask for water, but the only sound that comes out is a strange groan that reverberates down the column of my neck, sending a sharp pain through my throat. The groan is cut short by the immediate pain. I try to swallow, but my lethargic tongue thickly sticks to the roof of my mouth.

"She's waking up," someone says.

The voice sounds so familiar.

Rosie.

Rosie is here. But where is here?

My eyelids flutter as memories start rushing back to me.
Nathan
. The last thing I remember is him on top of me, his hands around my neck squeezing the life out of me. I scream in my mind for help, and eventually the noise escapes my lips. It's a loud, strangled cry that sounds feral.

My eyes snap open. I hear the fast beeping of the heart monitor behind me as my chest rapidly rises and falls.

"Calm down, Avery," Rosie commands, rushing to my bedside. "You're at the hospital. You're safe, honey."

My eyes dart around, assessing my surroundings. I'm in a hospital bed wrapped in bandages with an IV sticking out of my arm. My gaze catches Rosie as she moves her hands up and down slowly, instructing me on how to slow my breathing. "That's it. Nice, steady breaths," she says as the monitor gradually returns to a normal rhythm.

Dr. Benson, who I've known since I started volunteering at the hospital, enters the room. He has a short, hushed conversation with Rosie before he walks over to me. His face is pinched with concern as he raises a penlight to check my pupils. "Hello, Avery. Do you know who I am?"

I try to answer him, but my voice comes out in a raspy, fragmented whisper. I swallow hard, and a sharp, stabbing pain flows through my neck. My fingers reach for my throat, and I realize I'm wearing a neck brace.

"That's okay. Don't try to speak. Nodding or shaking of the head works just as well. Do you know who I am?" he asks again.

I give a small nod.

"Good. That's good." He motions to Rosie, who brings over a few items and places them on the overbed table. There is a small whiteboard, a black marker and an eraser. I stare at the things before me in uncertainty.

Dr. Benson notices my confusion and explains, "We want you to use these to talk until your throat has some time to heal. You've had massive trauma to your cervical spine. Based on your symptoms when you tried to speak, I believe you are suffering from vocal box paralysis. We won't know the full extent of the damage until we can assess after the swelling has gone down and you have rested." He points to the board. "The key word here is
rest
. Don't try to talk. Write it down. Understood?"

He stares at me until I nod in response. Then he continues. "Do you remember how you got here?"

My brain is foggy, and nothing seems to be coming into focus. I shake my head gently, as every bit of movement seems to be causing me pain.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

I grab the board and marker and slowly write my response with a shaky hand.
My husband strangling me. Then everything went black.

He nods slowly as a deep frown slowly sets on his face. "You might remember more of what happened. Just don't try to force the memories." He hesitates before he murmurs, "Some things are better left in the dark."

I swallow hard, the pain searing through my throat once more. I erase my words on the board and scribble the word
water
.

"Rosie, will you get us some ice chips, please?"

"Sure thing, Doctor," she says before leaving the room.

Dr. Benson makes a few notes in my chart until Rosie comes back into the room. "I have some more patients to check on, but I'll be back, Avery. Get some rest."

I nod and watch him leave. Rosie puts a small ice chip on a spoon and feeds it into my mouth. "Let it melt on your tongue, Avery," she instructs.

I almost groan in pleasure. I have never been so thirsty before in my life, and the ice melting on my tongue is almost euphoric.

She carefully takes a small sponge stick, wets it and gently rubs it over my cracked lips. Tears fill my eyes as I stare up at her. She has no idea how thankful I am for her kindness.

"Don't cry, baby girl," she whispers. "You're safe now." She hesitates and then nods to herself as if deciding an inner turmoil. "Nathan is in jail. They locked him up. He can't hurt you any more."

The corners of my mouth lift up. At least he isn't getting away with hurting me this time. I have waited so long for this moment. My eyelids grow heavy, and I faintly hear Rosie telling me it's the medicine in the IV making me tired. The moment my head falls back on the pillow, I'm asleep.

I wake up hours later. I don't even know how long I've been asleep. The pain in my body hasn't subsided, but the drugs in the IV are definitely helping. There is a tall, burly man sitting on the other side of the room. His long legs are crossed at the ankle, and he sips his coffee and stares at the television in the ceiling by my bed.

When his gaze flickers to me, he sits up quickly, almost spilling his coffee. "It's nice to see you awake," he says before standing. "I'm Agent Lance Romero with the State Bureau of Investigation."

I stare up at this large man as he makes his way over to me. He's intimidating, but I have a feeling deep down he's a gentle giant. I point to my neck to let him know that I can't talk.

"Oh, yeah. The doctor told me you wouldn't be able to talk for a while."

I grab the whiteboard and marker in front of me and write a question on the board before holding it up to him. "How did I get away from Nathan?"

"You don't remember?"

I shake my head.

"Well, it all started when Dr. Harrison alerted his parents to your situation. His father got in contact with a friend of mine, Eric Jones, in the Department of Public Safety. Jones contacted me, and we went to work on trying to find you. Max…" He seems to get choked up for a minute, but then he clears his throat and continues. "Max saved your life. He went ahead of the team…against my orders," he says with a small grin, "and he confronted Nathan. The rest of the team arrived shortly thereafter, and Chief Mason shot Nathan, taking him down."

My heart swells with pride. Max saved my life. He was my knight in shining armor after all, as I always knew he would be. If he wouldn't have got the ball rolling, I would be dead. Nathan would have killed me that day. I have no doubt in my mind about that.

I press a hand to my heart, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Romero watches me carefully. Then he says, "I should go. I know the doctors don't want any of us in here while you're supposed to be resting. I'll be back, though, if that's okay?"

I nod. I quickly write a note on the board.
Thank you.

Romero grins, but I can see sadness behind his eyes. "You're welcome. I'm just glad we could save you." He says it as if there was someone else he couldn't save, but I don't question him about it. He shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts and then says, "Okay. You get some rest, Avery."

I watch him leave and then sit back in bed. The medicine is making me so foggy, and time is just flying by without me being aware of my surroundings. Every time I blink it feels like I'm losing minutes of time. I wonder if Max has visited me yet and I just wasn't awake when he did. A smile creeps over my lips. I can't wait to see him. First, I'm going to tell him how much I love him. I never got the chance to say it back, and I regret that more than anything. I want him to know how I feel and how I've felt ever since the first time I met him.

I drift off to sleep and dream about Max…my Max.

*

The next day I'm bursting with questions. I want to know what happened. I want to know where Max is and why he hasn't come to visit. My thoughts linger back to Agent Romero and what he said. He said Max went ahead of the team and confronted Nathan. Did Max get hurt? The thought of Max being injured sends a chill up my spine. That would explain why he hasn't visited. But I quickly push the thought aside. I've been so out of it because of the drugs that maybe Max has been here every time I've been asleep. Rosie said my father has visited me several times, but I was never awake when he was here. Besides, if Max were hurt, someone would have told me…right?

By the time Rosie comes into my room, I already have Max's name written on my board. I hold it up to her when she walks in. Her expression instantly changes from cheerful to distraught in an instant. My heart falters as I point to his name and raise my brow at her. She shakes her head, but I reach out and grasp her hand. "M…a…x," I whisper. I try to say more, but a sharp pain erupts through my throat, and I instantly regret trying to speak.

"No talking. Write it," Rosie says quickly.

My fingers move feverishly as I write,
Did something happen to him?

"Yes." After a few moments, she asks, "You don't remember, do you?"

Remember what? I wrack my brain for answers, but come up empty handed. I don't remember what happened after Nathan tried to strangle me.

Hurriedly, I erase the board and scribble,
Is he okay?

"Avery…he was shot."

I wave the board frantically in front of her.
Is he okay?

"He had emergency surgery." She hesitates and takes a deep breath before saying the rest. "He's in the ICU and hasn't woken up yet, Avery. I'm sorry."

My world crashes down around me, and I instantly feel the hot tears stream down my face. I try to cry out, but I can't. I can't even voice my own panic, my own fear and grief.

Suddenly, I push the sheets down and swing my legs to the side of the bed. Rosie attempts to hold me down, but I struggle against her grip. I stand and stumble into the nightstand. The vase holding a bouquet of flowers goes crashing to the floor.

The sound of the glass breaking resonates through me to my very soul. My head pounds as the memory comes flooding back to me. I wasn't awake at the time, but I heard everything even if I didn't see it happening.

And the memory plays out in my mind like watching a movie with no picture, just sound. Max crashed through the window and attacked Nathan. There was a struggle. Gunshots. I remember Max holding my hand and talking to me.

My knees give out as I crumble to the floor. A strangled cry rips from my throat as I grab onto the bed for support. My hands twist in the sheets tightly as I sob. He saved me, but almost got himself killed in the process.

"It's okay, Avery," Rosie says in an attempt to calm me. "He'll make it. He'll pull through. You'll see."

But her words don't help me. I need to see him. I need to hold his hand and comfort him like he did with me. I grab the stupid board and scrawl on it.
Take me to Max.

"Avery, I can't. The doctor said ---."

I shake the board at her with tears spilling down my cheeks. I have to go to him. I have to see Max.

"Okay. Let me get a wheelchair," Rosie concedes.

*

The ICU is only fifty feet from my room, but it feels like miles. I am so close, and yet so far away from Max. Rosie hasn't said a word since she agreed to take me to him. I know she's breaking rules and could get in trouble, but I'm prepared to take all of the blame. If she wouldn't have helped me, I would have found another way anyhow.

We enter the room, and I can instantly feel my breathing pick up as I try not to panic. I should have expected the worst, but I was hoping for the best. I'm not prepared for Max's condition when we enter his room. Rosie parks the wheelchair by his bedside, and I silently sit there, my eyes wide and unblinking. Tears steam down my face, but I don't make a sound.

He looks so pale and fragile, and it makes my chest ache for him. There is a breathing tube in his throat, and the ventilator hisses as it forces air into his lungs. His chest and shoulder are wrapped in bandages, and gauze. He has an IV and tubes everywhere, so I'm extremely careful when I reach to take his hand into mine. His skin feels cool to the touch, and it takes everything in me not to breakdown.

This was my worst nightmare. Deep down I knew I would be putting him in danger if he helped me, but I let him help anyway. I feel so much guilt it almost feels overwhelming. This is all my fault. It's all my fault.

I grasp his hand. I can't even tell him I love him. I can't speak the words I so desperately want to tell him. My forehead presses against his hand, and I sob silently.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I repeat the words over and over and over in my head.

After a while, Rosie says, "That’s enough for one day, Avery. You can come back later when you feel better."

I'm hit with the realization that there might not be a later. Max could die while I'm down the hallway, and he would be all alone. I have every intention of coming to see him as often as I can. And when I feel well enough to walk, I will be by his side every minute of every day until he gets better. And he
will
get better. I won't let him leave me like this. I need him. I love him.