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She tries to smile again, but her lips slip down as if she can’t gather the strength to smile, and then she sucks a shallow breath into her lungs. The doctor steps closer and checks her vitals on the monitor stationed at her bedside.
"Try to relax, Victoria. We don't want your blood pressure to go up again."
I’m so confused right now. Since when are the doctors on a first-name basis with her? I turn my gaze to him and watch him cautiously. Something is wrong here, but I can’t pinpoint it.
Her eyes drift shut, and I gently shake her hand. "Mom?"
She doesn’t respond, and fear kicks me in the chest like a horse. "Mom?"
My heart rate spikes, and I notice the blips on the monitors blink, and the beeping sound speeds up. The doctor jumps into action, lowering her bed to a flat position.
“Scarlett, come here.” Dr. Banks calls for one of the nurses.
I shove out of the chair and move out of their way while they rush around the bed, adjusting her body and grabbing a needle to inject something into her IV. Complete helplessness threatens to suffocate me. I can’t stand here and watch her die, but at the same time, I can’t do a single fucking thing to help her. I’m not a doctor. This is how Bel felt and probably still does. Like a compass with no sense of direction. Lost without a real meaning. I sink deeper into myself, watching with fear as they move around the room.
There’s shouting. “What the fuck are you doing? Call an ambulance for her!” Oh, it takes me a second to realize it’s me.
Then the damn doctor is in my face. “We can’t do that. Not yet. Please understand things are dire, and she should be in the care of a hospital, but I’m not authorized to approve that.” He stares at me meaningfully.
“Then fucking do it. I’m the power of attorney, right? Get her to the hospital!”
After a minute, the screeching of the monitors slows to a more steady beat. The doctor rushed around her bed to check her eyes, pulse, and stats again.
I'm vibrating with tension. Only the steady blip of her heartbeat on the monitor keeps me from splitting down the middle.
"What the hell is going on? What was that?” I pepper him with questions, wondering why this asshole hasn’t pulled his phone out to call the ambulance yet.
He skirts the bed to approach, slipping his pen light into his white coat pocket. "I know I told you earlier that she’s been in and out of it since early this morning, but I believe something else is going on. I’ll need to run some more tests to be sure, but her sleepiness and fatigue are much more than a side effect of the meds."
I wave at the bed. "What does that mean?"
His frown deepens, and I can see the despair in his eyes."She's fallen into a coma, I believe. We need to get these tests done so we can see about helping her recover." He waves me toward a side table. "Let's start with some blood work and go from there."
I strip my jacket as I cross the room and throw myself down in the chair. “Take whatever you need. As long as you can save her life, I don’t give a fuck. I can’t lose her, Doctor. I can’t.”
“Let me draw this lab work, and I promise we’ll transport her to the hospital. It’s important that I do this first since it will help tailor our position once we get there.”
“Whatever, Doc. Just do it.
He hums a noise low in his throat and quickly grabs some supplies from a nearby set of drawers. I’m not sure how my blood can help, but I’d give up anything to ensure I don’t lose her.
“You’re her best chance for hope. You know that, right?”
I glance up at him. There’s something in his tone I can’t place through the adrenaline and the fear still coursing through me. All I can think is that I can’t lose her.
I can’t. If I lose her, there is no saying how far off the rails I’ll fall. There might not be anything good left for Bel. There might not be anything left for anyone.
4
BEL
Another glorious day soaking in the despair of my trauma.
Different day, same shit.
I stare at the ceiling, wondering how much longer I can sit here, drowning myself in expensive wine. This isn’t me. I know that. But I’m lost. I let out an obnoxious sigh. If I spend another day in this bed, the staff will start making the bed around me or over me.
I check the clock on my bedside table. Getting myself out of this rut I’m in will require effort. I’m not ready to let go of her, but allowing myself to be happy and leave this miserable place I’ve put myself in makes me sick to my stomach. Your life has to go on, Bel, my mom’s voice reminds me. Don’t let this end you.
