TWENTY-NINE
Madelyn
It’s a completely disconcerting to wake up without knowing where you are, or how you got there.
My thoughts are cloudy when I stir from sleep. My head is pounding, and it feels like it’s filled with cotton. My eyelids are heavy, in fact, it feels as though my entire body is weighted down. I try to move my arm, but it doesn’t budge because something heavy is preventing my movement.
Without opening my eyes, I struggle to focus on everything around me.
Stiff, scratchy fabric beneath my fingers.
The sound of slow, measured breathing.
A low, steady hum and a quiet, rhythmic beep.
The unmistakable scent of antiseptic.
I’m in the hospital.
That realization brings a sudden onslaught of terrifying images in my mind.
David showing up at Holden’s apartment.
My head slamming with a loud thud against the wall.
Shattered glass and broken bones.
Blood. So much blood.
The glint of a gun as he pointed directly at my belly…
Gasping for air, my body jackknifes to a sitting position. Pain takes over my entire body, my eyes shoot open and my back slams back to the bed.
“Shhh. You can’t move, baby girl. Stay still, let me call a nurse.”
My brother reaches over me to press the call button for the nurse. Turning his attention back to me, he gently strokes my cheek and pushes my hair away from my face.
“You’re awake.”
Tears form in my eyes, a mixture of pain and intuition making it impossible not to fight my emotions.
I remember everything. And I know.
I’ve felt this emptiness before. This hollow feeling, like a vital piece of me is missing.
Moving one hand over my belly, I look at my brother. I need confirmation of what I already know.
He sucks in a breath, clearly understanding what I’m asking without words. Eyes glazed with tears, he moves his head in an almost imperceptible nod. “I’m so sorry, Mads.”
Biting my bottom lip, I try to hold back my tears, but it’s no use.
My vision blurs. Trails of warm, wet tears stream down my face. Physical pain meets the emotional as my body shakes uncontrollably with my sobs. I hurt everywhere.
The bed dips beside me and a strong set of arms carefully wraps around my body, but I already know it’s not my brother.
“Jax.” I cry out. “My baby. Not my baby!”
Pulling me against him as gently as possible, he nuzzles his nose in my hair and whispers sweet words of comfort in my ear. But I don’t hear any of them. Not a single word.
He holds me like this until my sobs are quieted to sniffles, and exhaustion takes over, my body slipping into slumber again.
The next time I wake up, my mom is in the chair at my bedside.
Looking around the small hospital room, I see Jaxson in the corner. I watch him as he sleeps, his large body curled up in the small chair. He can’t be comfortable.
“He hasn’t left. Not since you were brought in. No one can get him to leave this room,” mom whispers.
I look at her, ignoring the glassy sheen in her eyes.
“How long?” I ask, my voice coming out in a coarse whisper.
“Four days,” she answers. “We weren’t sure you were going to wake up. We’ve been so afraid.”
I have so many questions but lack the strength to voice them. Instead, I turn my gaze back to Jaxson and let my mind fill with thoughts of him. He’s been a steady presence and source of comfort since I walked away from David. Even after every wrong choice, every mistake I made. He’s been here for me and I don’t deserve him.
God, so many regrets.
Before I can beat myself up too much, there’s a knock on the door.
A man I don’t recognize enters quietly, a smile appearing on his face when he looks at me.
“It’s good to see you awake, Madelyn.”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion, which only makes him smile wider. Chuckling, he introduces himself. “I’m Dr. Richardson. I was the on-call surgeon when they brought you in.”
I feel Jaxson’s calm presence when he comes to stand beside the bed. I don’t turn to look at him, but I know he’s there, my feeling confirmed when he takes my hand in his. I don’t acknowledge him, or the doctor’s introduction.
“Has anyone talked to you about what happened?”
I answer with a gentle shake of my head, careful not to aggravate the lingering traces of my headache.
I listen in silence as the doctor thoroughly explains the physical damage David caused, as well as the details of my surgery, and the lasting effects of both. It’s extremely difficult to hear. Having lived through the horror of that night, it’s distressing to learn all of the ways my body has been broken because of it. I try to listen attentively, but there’s so much information and my head is still foggy. Dr. Richardson must be aware of my current mental state.
“I know it’s a lot of information to process. Do you have any questions?”
Struggling, I mentally wade through everything I’ve been told when something sparks in my mind.
“You...you said I can’t have children.” It’s not a question.
“While not impossible, it’s highly improbable,” he explains, clearing his throat before continuing. “The bullet caused significant damage to your uterus, which we were able to repair, but there will be scarring that may make it difficult to carry a baby to term. There was also severe damage to your left fallopian tube, and we were unable to save your ovary.”
My breath hitches, and my heart shatters into a billion tiny pieces.
I’ve lost two babies. Now, I’ve lost my chance for another.
I’m never going to have a baby.
Never going to be a mother.
I faintly hear the doctor apologize and excuse himself from the room, but his apology means nothing. A million apologies wouldn’t give me back what I’ve lost. What was stolen from me. What I can never get back.
He stole everything from me. Left me completely ruined.
Devastation meets anger and together, they destroy every little bit of what’s left of me.
While my heart breaks, and my mind wars with everything I’ve learned, Jaxson holds me in his warm embrace. He doesn’t offer useless apologies or empty platitudes; he simply holds me and lets me mourn.