32. Sarah
32. Sarah
‘Can she hear me?’
It’s Carl. I recognize the distinctive northern burr in his voice. He sounds upset.
‘I think so, pet.’ Jenni is using her nurse’s voice, soothing, reassuring, kind.
‘Can who hear you?’ I want to ask, but the words won’t come. They’re floating right in front of me but my mind can’t seem to string them together.
My mouth feels dry. So dry. Did I drink too much last night?
I try to open my eyes but, like my tongue, they refuse to work. No matter how much I will them to open, they stubbornly resist.
And then the pain hits me. An intense pounding inside my head and around my eyes. I lie still, hoping that if I stop trying to talk and open my eyes maybe the pulsing agony will go away.
I swallow but the dryness in my mouth, like the pain in my head, doesn’t go away. It’s too much.
I’m relieved when the darkness comes for me again and pulls me back under.
The soft tread of soles on a polished laminate floor, curtains being swished backwards and forwards against a metal frame, the whir of a machine right by my side.
I recognize the regular rhythm of a monitor beeping in the background, instinctively know the precise sound its alarm will make if any of the patient’s vital signs change. The noises are comforting and familiar. It dawns on me that I must be at work.
But why am I asleep in bed if I’m at work? Whose vital signs am I listening to? I don’t understand.
Then the pain hits me like a wave crashing into my forehead. My throat feels raw. But this time there is something else too. I’m afraid. I don’t know what of. But whatever it is, it’s real and it’s powerful, and I know I have to get away from it. I let myself sink back into the darkness.
Whatever this is, I’m not ready to face it yet.
His voice is low at first, mumbling even, but then it gets stronger.
It’s Carl, and I can tell that he’s angry. Really angry. Is that why I feel afraid? Did Carl do something?
The fear is back. I have to tell Jenni to get help. But the words still won’t come, my eyes still won’t open.
I try to move my hand. If I could just reach out to her, then maybe I could get her attention. The pain is so bad, I gasp. But I can’t let myself drift away again. I have to do this. I have to warn Jenni.
My fingers slowly come back to life. I’m about to summon the energy to lift them up, but then Carl lets out a long, shuddering sigh.
‘Jesus,’ he says.
He doesn’t sound angry any more. Just sad. Very sad.
‘How could I have let this happen to her?’ he says.
My hand immediately relaxes. Whatever has happened to me, it was nothing to do with Carl.
‘You didn’t,’ I hear Jenni say. Her voice is pacifying, but she is upset now too.
‘If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.’ Mum’s voice. She sounds distraught. ‘I was on my way to be with her, but I didn’t make it in time. I didn’t get to her in time.’
Mum starts to cry, and my mind swims with confusion. Mum would never do anything to hurt me. I want to reach out to her, tell her not to cry, but when I try to lift my head, the pain is excruciating.
I immediately fall back on the pillow, defeated.
‘Where is Danny now?’ I hear Carl ask.
My eyes spring open at the mention of his name, and suddenly I remember all of it.
His dark eyes.
The strike to the back of my head.
Falling dazed on to the kitchen floor.
Pain ripping through my head. Everything blurring.
Annie screaming my name, begging me to stay with her.
The police, the ambulance. The trolley being pushed down a corridor at speed.
Danny.
It all makes sense now. The sound of a pump delivering liquid into veins. My pump. My veins. My vital signs.
Carl runs his hand through his hair and as he does, he glances towards me.
His eyes light up. ‘Sarah! She’s awake! Look, she’s opened her eyes!’
Suddenly his face is swimming directly above mine. I feel his breath on my cheek.
‘Sarah. You’re awake. Sarah,’ he says, speaking my name with such sadness. ‘Sarah, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you ever again.’ He reaches down and softly strokes my hair. ‘Are you okay?’
Mum and Jenni move to the opposite side of the bed. Mum takes my hand in hers.
She is still crying. ‘Thank God,’ she says. ‘Thank God.’
But I’m not looking at Mum. Or Jenni. I’m looking at Carl. Gently, so gently, he takes my hand in his. ‘You’re safe,’ he whispers to me. ‘You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be okay.’
My eyes are locked on to his and I can’t bear to tear them away. I’m too scared to blink, for fear that if I close my eyes, when I open them again he will be gone.
My mind is foggy, my brain blurred, but I absolutely understand that if Carl isn’t here, if I lose sight of him for just one second, I won’t feel safe any more. And even though I can’t speak, I know he understands.
Tears streak down his cheeks. ‘I’ve got you, lass, I’ve got you now.’