Estranged Heart

Twenty-nine

Silas

I keep coming in and out of consciousness, feeling worse each time I open my eyes. Elijah’s words pierce my heart whenever I replay them in my head, and as I fully come to, I can no longer convince myself it was all a dream. He accused Stacey of murder but the Stacey I know wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Would she? He was so sure in his sharp, angry tone, and that’s when all the nightmares flash through my mind. One after another.

I’m back in the woods. On that table. Shaking and cold on a concrete floor with all my clothes off and bones aching. My white shirt is ripped and bloody. Except it isn’t mine. It’s. . . My chest constricts. I feel like my heart is splitting down the center. It’s not my heart. It was never supposed to be mine.

I’ve known who it belonged to all along but didn’t want it to be true, for different reasons than this. My breaths come out uneven and I’m spiraling out of control. No. She wouldn’t do this. Why would she? How could she?

My worst fears have come to life. Those were never bad dreams, were they? I knew they felt real for a reason. In each event that was happening, I was Landon and he was me. A sinking feeling comes over me and my breaths come out harsher than before. I grab at my throat, ripping at the cannula, and several hands stop me.

“Mr. Adams. Can you hear me? Tell us what’s wrong?”

Everything. All of it. Nothing will ever be okay again.

“It hurts,” I cry out. “It all hurts.” The excruciating pain spreads like weeds, tangling up inside me and strangling my insides.

“Tell us where you feel the pain.”

I grasp at my chest, tears hanging from my eyes, and cold air stabs at my skin as they yank off my gown. Machines beep from every direction and so many voices bounce around me. So many blurry faces look down at me, hands pricking me with needles and attaching a cuff to my arm. I lie here, still and aching. It’s a bone deep pain not even meds can soothe.

“Elijah,” I call out. “Where’s Elijah?” I can still smell him. Every part of him lingers in this small room and on my body.

“Who’s Elijah, sweetheart?” one of the nurses says, her cold hand like ice on my hot skin.

“The man who was here before,” I rasp. My throat burns every time I speak and the whole room is spinning out of control. He was here, wasn’t he? Maybe it was a dream? Oh, please let it be a dream. His accusing eyes felt too real, boring deep into my memory and putting me in a chokehold. Then he asked if what we had was even real. It was to me. All my days spent with Elijah felt like main events while everything else felt like small details that filled in the small gaps.

“I’m not sure, hun, but I need you to breathe for me, okay. Take a deep breath and relax.”

I do as she says, inhaling deep and exhaling until I feel my lungs are being flooded with too much air too fast. A large weight settles on my chest, so heavy and crushing. The room grows distant and I stick my hand out trying to grab onto anything I can while I slip away again to a place where nothing but darkness surrounds me.