Saving Avery (30 page)

I kiss his hand and, reluctantly, let Rosie wheel me out of the room. I look back at him one last time, and my heart shatters into a million pieces all over again.

Over the next few days, I will myself to get stronger, to fight harder. And it's all because of Max and my need to see him and be there for him. My throat eventually heals well enough to allow me to talk in a whisper, and I sneak off to Max's room as often as I can. The nurses learned quickly that if I'm not in my room, I'm with Max. I've been reprimanded and brought back to my room more times than I can count, but I don't care. Nothing can stop me from going to see him.

It's in the afternoon the next day when Dr. Benson goes over my x-rays with me. "There isn't as much damage to your cervical spine as I once thought, which is a good thing." He holds the films up to the light once more. "I still want you to wear the neck brace as a precaution for a few more days. After that, I'll reassess your condition and any damage to your vocal chords."

"When am I going to get out of this bed?" I ask him in a hoarse whisper.

"From the nurses' notes, I would say that you've barely been in it," he says with a grin.

"Sorry," I mutter.

He pats my hand reassuringly. "We're all worried about Dr. Harrison. And I know you're worried most of all." He tucks the x-ray films into a folder and says, "As long as all the test results come back okay, I should be able to discharge you tomorrow." He holds his finger up, and I can feel a big
but
to his statement coming on. "But I want you to go home and rest. You can't do anything here for Max, and I know he would want me telling you the same exact thing."

I nod in agreement, but I have no intention of going home and resting. When Dr. Benson sighs, I know he knows exactly what my intentions are. "Thank you," I tell him.

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow, Avery."

A few minutes after he leaves the room, my father enters the room. My father has been by my side almost twenty-four seven the past few days. He had been in another part of the state when he received news that I was hurt and in the hospital. He immediately dropped everything and came to see me, much to my surprise.

He's holding a cup of coffee in his hand, and I frown at the bags under his eyes. He's barely slept, and even though I want to tell him to go home, it's been so nice having him here. "Dad, you look tired."

He waves his hand dismissively and shakes his head. "I can sleep when I'm dead," he remarks. He sits down in a chair beside my bed. "What did the doctor say?"

"He said there isn't as much damage to my neck as they thought, but I have to continue wearing my lovely new necklace," I say, indicating to the hideous neck brace.

Dad flashes me a lopsided grin. "I'm just glad you're all right, sweetheart."

A knock on the door has us both turning our attention towards it. A woman in a black pantsuit sporting a police badge clipped on her pocket stands in the doorway. "Hello. I'm Detective Sheila Waters. May I speak to you, Avery?" When I motion for her to come in, she says, "Thank you." She walks to my bedside and turns her attention to my dad. "You must be Avery's father."

"Yes. Andrew Bennett," my dad answers as he shakes the detective's hand.

"I would like to ask Avery some questions about the events that took place a few days ago."

My father glances at me with a raised brow, and I nod in approval. I'm willing to do anything to keep Nathan locked away for a long time. My trembling hands reach for a cup of ice water, and I slurp noisily through the straw. It's still very difficult to drink and swallow. Water dribbles down my chin, and I fail miserably at trying to prevent it. My father is quick to wipe up my mess with a napkin. I look up at him with an appreciative gaze, and he gives me a small smile.

I push the button to move the bed into a better sitting position as the detective opens up her briefcase and pulls out a recorder, a notepad and a pen. "Is it okay to record our conversation, Avery?"

I nod, wanting to save my voice for the more important answers.

The detective eyes my father and then glances back at me. "Are you comfortable with your father being here?"

I turn to my father. "You can stay," I whisper. My voice still sounds like I swallowed gravel. "Just leave if it gets to be too much."

He nods solemnly, squeezes my hand gently and then goes to take a seat by the door.

Sheila takes his vacated seat, presses the record button and readies her pen. She spouts off the date, time, location and hospital room number. Then she asks me, "What is your name?"

"Avery Mason." I cringe at my last name. I have every intention of changing it as soon as I'm discharged. I don't want to be associated with that name ever again. "Please just call me Avery," I suggest.

Sheila nods and gives me a sympathetic smile. "Avery, we're here to talk about the events that occurred between Saturday the 27th and Tuesday the 30th, when you were found by police. Were you at the cabin by your own free will?"

"No."

"Did your husband Nathan Mason kidnap you?"

"Yes."

"Did he abuse you in the past?"

"Yes."

"Was that the first time he ever hit you?"

I swallow hard and pinch my eyes closed. It seems like forever ago that he first hit me, and my mind is cloudy from the drugs. I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

"Do you remember the first time he ever laid a hand on you?" the detective prompts.

"Before we were engaged." I hear my father take a sharp intake of breath, but I don't dare look at him.

"You were married two and a half years ago. So the abuse has been going on for years?"

"Yes."

"Physical and mental?" she asks.

I nod, and then realize I have to answer for the recording. "Yes."

She pulls a camera out of a bag, and I swallow thickly as I eye the piece of equipment. Sheila, perhaps sensing my apprehension, says, "We need to document the abuse to build a case against your husband. I'll be snapping some photos while I ask you questions, if that's all right."

"Okay," I agree quietly.

The questioning continues, and I can almost feel the tension in the room from my father's discomfort. He truly had no idea what I was going through. Nobody did. Except for Max. Tears form in my eyes when I think of him struggling to live right down the hall from me.

The flash from the camera brings me back to the present. Detective Sheila looks at me expectantly. "I'm sorry. What was the question?" I ask.

"I asked if you ever tried to get help. Did you ever try to leave him, Avery?"

The question has me flustered. At that moment I wish I had asked my father to leave earlier. "I tried to leave many times. I tried to ask people for help…but nobody would listen." I ramble through the countless times I tried to leave, the shelters and hotels I stayed in, the bus incident, even the suicide attempt, everything. It's all out in the open now.

"She asked me for help," my father says distantly. "I didn't help her." He stands and looks at me. "I'm sorry, Avery. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he says, his voice breaking on a sob.

"You didn't know," I tell him. "Dad. You didn't know."

He shakes his head. "I should have listened to you. I didn't listen." He continues to shake his head in a daze.

"He would have just hurt you too." Then I realize he did try to hurt my dad. The drugs fogging my mind almost made me forget about the shooting incident entirely. I turn to the detective. "Nathan paid someone to shoot my father. He told me about it the morning it happened. It was just another one of his tactics to get me to comply, to get me to stay."

My father stares at me in disbelief, and then he hangs his head in shame. "I had no idea what kind of sick monster Nathan was. I was so blind," he mutters.

Detective Walters makes some notes and nods. "I'll need to look into this further. I might be able to book Mason on a conspiracy for murder charge." She pushes a button on the recorder and stands, slowly packing her things away into the briefcase. "I think that's all we need for today, Avery. I'm going to need a statement on that hit for hire when you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. Whatever I can do to help the investigation," I say softly.

"I'll be in touch."

After the detective leaves, my father walks over to my bedside. "Avery," he says, but he can't finish what he was going to say.

I've never seen my father cry before this moment. He never even shed a tear at my mother's funeral. I understand now as an adult that he had to be strong for Allison and me. "It's okay, Dad," I say reassuringly.

"No. No, it's not."

He takes my hand in his and pulls it to his face. He rests his forehead against my hand as he sobs. "I didn't know. I didn't know," he repeats over and over. "I'm sorry, Avery. I'm so sorry."

A soft knock breaks through my father's sobs. We both turn to see Allison in the doorway. She has a big smile plastered on her face, but it quickly falters when she sees me. "Oh, my God. Avery," she says. Her fingers cover her mouth in shock as she stares at my battered body.

"Get out," I say through clenched teeth.

Allison takes a few steps into the room. "Avery," she starts.

My hands curl into fists as I tremble with rage. "Get the hell out of here!" I yell.

My father glances back and forth between the two of us with a confused look on his face. "What's going on?" he asks my sister.

Allison has the nerve to shrug her shoulders as if she doesn't know, as if she didn't sleep with my husband and refuse to help me when I needed her the most. As if she wasn't sending him text messages and pictures while I was being beaten and tortured by the man she was sleeping with. She has the nerve to pretend like she didn't choose Nathan over me. Her eyes slowly fill with tears. "Avery, please," she sobs.

"GET OUT!" I scream at the top of my lungs. A burning pain runs through my throat, but I ignore it. I want her gone. Now. I can't bear to even look at her.

My father steps towards Allison. "Maybe you should just come back later, Allison."

She stares at our father and then at me with tears falling down her cheeks. "Avery, I didn't know. You have to believe me. I didn't now what Nathan was doing to you!"

I grab the nearby eraser board tightly in my hands. I watch her crocodile tears, and it makes me sick that she is the one who is upset right now. She has no right to be upset. Angrily, I chuck the board at her. It hits the door right beside her head, and I am infuriated that I missed. A loud sob emits from Allison's mouth before she flees the room.

My dad looks down at me and raises a brow as if to ask what was that about. I just shake my head; and, thankfully, he doesn't try to broach the subject. As far as I'm concerned, Allison is dead to me just like Nathan. My father and Max are the only family I need. And I pray that Max gets better so that I can be there for him just as he's been there for me all this time.

AVERY

Dr. Benson stays true to his word and discharges me the next day with a two-page list of restrictions and medications. I ignore the pieces of paper entirely and make my way to Max's room once I'd changed out of my gown and into some clothes my father had bought for me.

A nurse is changing the bandages on Max's shoulder. Anthony looks up and smiles as I enter the room. He's been one of my co-conspirators in the hospital, not telling on me when I snuck into Max's room so many times this past week. "You're not rocking the gown anymore, Avery. Does that mean you're officially out?"

I nod and give him a small smile. I immediately go to Max's bedside and gently kiss his cheek. "Hi, Max. I'm here." I glance up at Anthony and ask, "Do you…do you think he can hear me?"

Anthony nods. "I like to think so. I mean it can't hurt. Right?"

"Right," I say before turning my attention back to Max.

After Anthony leaves the room, I settle into the chair next to Max's bed. The beeping of the machines is hypnotic, but I refuse to fall asleep. My body aches with pain, and I know that eventually I will have to leave and fill a bunch of prescriptions, but right now I just want to be with Max.

Pulling Max's hand into mine, I say, "I love you, Max. I never got the chance to tell you that. I should have said it back that night. I shouldn't have held my true feelings for you inside. It wasn't fair." I swallow hard. "And now you might never get the chance to hear them." I grasp his hand tightly between mine. "I can't lose you. I just…I can't. I need you, Max. Please. Please come back to me." I place a soft kiss on his hand.

I look up just as an older woman and an older version of Max walk into the room. I've never met Max's parents before, and I actually never thought I would get the chance to. I stand as quickly as my body allows, and I make a futile attempt to make myself presentable, which proves to be impossible. I'm covered in cuts and bruises and I'm wearing a neck brace. Not much room for improvement here.

I take my mother's advice to heart and put the biggest smile I can on my face. She always told me the most beautiful thing I could wear was a smile, and so I wear it proudly and hope that it diverts some of their attention away from my appearance.

His mother's eyes are fixated on Max for a few moments before she even realizes I'm in the room. When our eyes meet, hers instantly become glassy. I wish we could have met under other circumstances, in a setting that wasn't so dire. But it is what it is. Her lips turn up into a smile to match my expression. "You must be Avery," she says in a soft voice. "I'm Caroline, and this is my husband Daniel." Her petite legs carry her over to me, and she outstretches her arms. Hugging me tight, she says in my ear, "Max told us so much about you." She pulls back and holds my face gently in her hands. "You poor girl. How are you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing better now," I respond. "Thanks to your son," I add quickly.

Caroline nods and looks over at Max with adoration in her gaze. "We're so proud of him for what he did." Her hands fall from my face and grasp my hands tightly in hers. "We're just hoping for the best possible outcome now. We just want him to come back to us."

I nod as tears fill my eyes. "I want that too."

I spend the next few hours talking with Max's parents about his childhood. I find out firsthand what a daredevil he was, riding his bike down a set of stairs when he was only four and breaking his arm from jumping too high from a swing when he was eight. The stories make us all laugh. But after the laughter dies down, the sadness creeps back in.

My father appears in the doorway and smiles when he spots me. "I thought I'd find you in here. The doctor told me you were released hours ago, but you never came to the house. I got worried."

Frowning, I say, "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to worry you."

I make introductions for Max's parents, and my father shakes hands with them both. Then his eyes settle on me, and he frowns. "Avery, you look like you're in pain. Let me take you home."

Slowly and carefully, I stand from my chair. I am in desperate need of pain medicine, but I was enjoying the time with Max's parents so much that I pushed the pain aside. My father extends his elbow, and I hook my arm around it. I look at the Harrisons and say, "It was so nice to finally meet you."

"Same here, Avery," Max's dad says.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," I tell them.

His mother shakes her head. "You go home and get some rest. We'll make sure to call if anything happens."

"Thank you."

"Ready to go, sweetheart?" my dad asks.

I look longingly at Max one last time before nodding. I don't want to leave him, but I silently promise to be back as soon as possible.

*

The next day at the hospital is rough. The pain medicine keeps making me drift asleep, but I try my best to stay awake. I stay by Max's side, holding his hand and talking to him. I don't know if he can hear me, but I like to hope so. I want him to know that I'm here for him.

After a while, I rest my head on the cool sheets of his bed and stare up at him. My eyes only close for a moment before I hear someone whispering my name.

"Avery."

I slowly open my eyes. Max is staring down at me. "You're awake," I say in surprise.

I look around the room and realize we're not in the hospital anymore. We're in his bed at his house. I reach up and tentatively touch his rough cheek. "Max," I say softly. "I was so worried about you."

He starts to talk, but I can't hear him. There's a loud alarm filling the room, and I quickly cover my ears to block out the noise.

I sit up quickly as the blaring sound cuts through my dream, shattering me awake to the present. My eyes find the source of the alarms, and his heart monitor is showing a flat line.

"No!" I cry. "Max!" My throat is raw, but I blink past the pain. "Max!" I squeeze his hand tightly.

Two nurses rush into the room. One checks Max's vitals as the other grabs a nearby phone, waiting for instruction. "Unresponsive. Call the code," the assessing nurse says.

"Code blue, ICU, room number three. Patient is unresponsive," the other says quickly into the receiver.

Seconds later a voice comes over the intercom system. "ICU room three. Code blue. Code blue team needed in ICU room three."

I stand and reluctantly surrender my grip on Max's hand. I move into the corner of the room as the nurses begin to perform CPR. My arms curl around my waist, and I hold myself tightly as silent sobs wrack my body. "Please," I plead, but I don't know whom I'm even asking for help.

Within a few moments, nurses and a doctor are rushing into the room. Numbers are being shouted out left and right as they check his vitals and administer medicine. Everything happens so fast that it almost blurs together in my mind.

The heart monitor continues to show no response, and my own heart wants to cease beating. This can't be happening. It wasn't supposed to end this way. He was supposed to wake up and get better. We were going to have a life together. We were going to be happy,
finally happy
.

"Continue chest compressions. Place and charge the defibrillator pads," a doctor commands.

Two nurses hustle to place two large pads on Max's chest, and then one pushes a button on the machine they're connected to. The sound of the machine charging sends a shiver through my spine. Within a few seconds, it starts to beep.

"Clear!"

Everyone takes a step back.

"Shock."

A button is pushed, and electricity surges through Max's body. An intense moment passes as all eyes are glued to the heart monitor.

"No response," a doctor says. "Resume chest compressions."

My vision blurs as I silently pray. "Please, Max. Please," I plead.

"We're not giving up on you, Dr. Harrison, so don't you dare give up on us," the doctor says through gritted teeth. He raises his head to one of the nurses. "Charge the pads again."

"Max!" I cry out.

Anthony walks over to me and gently puts his hands on my shoulders. "Avery, you can't be in here right now."

I struggle against him as he pulls me towards the doorway. "Max!" I scream.

Anthony all but picks me up to get me out of the room. "They're going to help him. Let them do their job."

I stand in the hallway with my back pressed up against the wall as the nurses and doctors race to save Max's life. I stare at Max's lifeless body as they do chest compressions and force air into his lungs. The heart monitor shows no sign of life. He's dying.
He's dying.

I look up to see Daniel and Caroline rushing through the double doors, and their faces fall as soon as they see how upset I am.

Caroline runs to me. "What happened?"

I open my mouth, but I can't speak. The only sound that comes out is a sob. She grabs me and holds me, and I grasp onto her for support.

Max's father stands in the doorway, watching the crew work on his son. Tears fill his eyes as he whispers, "Come on, Max. You've always been a fighter. And we need you to fight right now."

After a few nerve-wracking minutes, the doctor calls out, "We've got a heart rate!"

Caroline, Daniel and I wait with bated breath as they continue to work on Max. And then finally the doctor walks out to talk with us. "Max has a good rhythm. We're going to continue monitoring him closely for the next twenty-four hours, but I think he's out of the woods for now."

"Oh, thank God," Caroline says in a hushed whisper.

The three of us are huddled together crying when a voice asks, "What's going on?"

I look up to see a girl around my age standing a few feet away. She has dark hair and dark eyes just like Max, and I know instantly that this is his sister.

"Oh, Megan," Caroline says, cupping her daughter's face in her hands. "We almost lost Max, but he's okay now."

Megan's bottom lip quivers as she asks, "He's okay?"

"Yeah."

I watch them hug, and I realize how much I miss my mom. New tears fill my eyes, but I quickly dash them away.

Daniel wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close. "Megan, this is Avery, Max's girlfriend."

Megan pulls away for her mom to assess me. A big grin breaks out on her face, and it reminds me of Max so much. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name," Megan says. "Max seriously wouldn't shut up about you."

I can't help but smile at her words. All this time I was trying to keep Max a secret, and he was telling his family all about me. But that's just Max. He's open about his feelings. You never have to question how he feels about anything or anyone.

"Nice to meet you, Megan." I hold out my hand, but she pulls me in for a big hug.

"Thanks for being here for my brother," she whispers in my ear.

I'm too choked up to respond, so I just hug her back and stay quiet. Max's family is so loving and caring. I can see why he possesses those same characteristics. They've made me feel so welcome and wanted, and I am so thankful for that, because it's just what I need right now.

When we part, Megan says, "Let's go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee. I want to know everything about the girl who has stolen my brother's heart."