Chapter 48 Oak
Oak
“Ineed a fucking doctor!” I roar, bursting through the hospital entrance carrying the love of my life in my arms who is fading on me.
Blood covers me from head to toe. Hers and that fucking motherfucker whose brains I blew out.
I wish I could feel the satisfaction of killing him, but I can’t.
I can’t fucking feel anything other than the devastation of the woman in my arms whose breaths have only become shallower with each one she takes.
My woman is dying on me. I can feel it in my very soul. Everything inside me is being fucking torn apart, atom by atom until nothing of me will remain.
I cradle her limp body closer to my chest, fighting back the sobs that want to destroy me. Furiously, I blink past the tears as I take another look at her.
My woman.
Her pulse is weak, barely there. Blood and swelling marring her beautiful features. Her body is dead weight in my arms. And it’s tearing me apart how there’s barely a response.
I charge the ER with a vengeance. Nurses and doctors alike come swarming to me when they take notice of the fatal situation.
“You need to save her.” My voice sounds like sandpaper but it’s filled with a maddening urgency. “I swear to fucking god if you don’t save her I’ll make all of you fucking wish you were dead.” My declaration is more of a desperate plea.
An older woman nurse followed by a younger male come running down with a stretcher. The male tries to pry her from my arms but I send him a lethal glare and protectively hold her closer to my chest.
The older woman takes on a soft tone with measured eyes. “If we don’t put her on a stretcher, honey, then we won’t be able to save her. And that’s what you want, yes? Otherwise you wouldn’t have threatened to kill us?”
All I can feel is Grace in my arms. All I can hear is the blood roaring in my veins, my heart pounding viciously. My eyes stay on Grace. I can’t look away from her. Fuck, I’m afraid if I do it’ll be the last time.
A sob claws it’s way up my throat but I swallow it the fuck down.
Tears burn as they flow down my face. “I don’t want to let go of her,” I choke out. It’s the fear, the same fear I had ten years ago with my brothers but a million times worse.
“I know, I know you don’t,” the nurse says to me softly but with an imploring look continues, “but if she has any chance of survival we need to take her now. And I need you to let us take her. She’ll be in good hands.”
I swallow roughly, and begrudgingly I lower Grace down on the stretcher as gently as possible. Once she’s laid out on the stretcher, her blood beginning to stain the white sheets, I press the most tender kiss to her bruised and torn skin.
Then, to the shell of her ear, I whisper, “I love you, baby. Come back to me.”
My heart goes with her as the nurses and doctors pull her away from me, rushing her down the hallway to the OR where I’m left here to wonder what will become of her.
With nothing left of me to give my legs give out from underneath of me. My shoulders cave inwards, heavy with despair my head falls forward. And my entire body shudders as if a tsunami has crashed over me.
And I feel it all over again.
The failure.
I’ve failed Grace.
I fucking failed her.
I failed Connor, the young boy who had just gained happiness and security with his sister.
Failure.
It’s what I do best.
It’s all I fucking know.
Misery eats me alive as guilt pricks away at my soul.
My lungs begin to burn as I try to inhale air through my nostrils. Black spots dance before my eyes as everything becomes a blur. My fingers twitch uncontrollably by my sides as pain ricochets through my chest.
In what sounds like the great distance, as if I hear the voice coming from the end of a tunnel, I hear a man shout, “He’s having a panic attack!”
My throat constricts, as if someone has a vice grip wrapped around my neck, as I try to draw in more air. I begin to claw at my throat but it only makes matters worse. With my tongue feeling like lead, my mouth gone impossibly dry, I feel as if I’m going out of my fucking mind.
I feel trapped within my own skin, wanting to break free but not knowing how.
A calm yet stern voice tries to reach me. “I need you to take deep breaths. One deep breath in, followed by one deep breath out. Can you do that for me?”
It seems like such a simple command but I’m finding it to be the most complex thing I have ever heard. I try to take a breath but I only end up coughing instead.
Hands find purchase on my shoulders and his voice seems closer.
“Come on, man, I know you can do it,” he encourages me.
“One deep breath in.” He then takes a deep breath in that I follow shakily.
“Now, take that deep breath out.” I do as he says, the exhale just as shaky as the inhale.
“Good, that’s good,” he praises me. “Keep it up until you feel yourself coming back.” And I do.
I keep the measured breaths until I feel myself back in my body once again.
And as the panic attack subsides the misery and pain never do.
Blinking through bleary eyes I see the man in scrubs kneeling before me. He wears an empathetic smile with kind brown eyes. “What’s your name, man?”
“Oak.” I respond, my voice hoarse
He nods his head. “And you know where you are?”
“Hollows Point Memorial Hospital.”
“And do you know why you’re here?”
Pain flares inside my chest. My palm lays flat over my heart as if it can ease ease the ache. “My woman. My woman was hurt and I. . .” Fuck, I can’t get out the words.
“It’s alright, Oak. I just have to make sure you are coherent. Is there anyone you need me to call for you? Anyone you need me to call for your woman? What’s her name?”
There’s too many phone calls I have to make.
“Her name is Gracie Mae.” And as her name leaves my lips the pain in my heart intensifies.
“Your woman is Gracie Mae?” He asks incredulously, as if he can’t believe it.
And although I may be drowning in my own pain and misery, if this fucker has a problem with my woman I’ll have no problem of adding him to the list of men I have killed. Eyes dark, voice to match, I ask, “Is that a fucking problem?”
His eyes go wide as he puts up his hands in surrender.
“No! It’s just, I know her. Well, I know of her.
You know?” He begins to stumble over his words.
“Hollows Point, it’s a small town, we all know of each other, but Grace and I were in the same grade.
Had classes with one another. Always remembered her being kind, even when the world gave her every reason not to be. ”
“She’s still that way.”
“Still a fighter I bet, too. This won’t be any different,” he promises me.
I nod my head because my tongue feels like lead.
And all I really want to do is scream. It’s either scream or cry.
To tear myself apart or to break everything and anyone apart.
“You should clean yourself up. We have spare scrubs.” He then scrunches his face as he looks up at me. “Not sure if any will fit.”
I feel numb, hollow, but I will myself to respond. “I’ll take whatever you have.”
He nods his head and offers me an encouraging smile that’s lost on me. “Give me five and I’ll be back with clean clothes for you. I’ll meet you in the bathroom down the hall.”
I take another breath that burns as he walks away. My fucking fingers start twitching again but I can’t make them stop. Because it’s Grace. Grace is the one who silences the noise in my head. Grace is the one who brings me peace.
And I don’t know how to fight without her.
But I have to try.
So, I force myself to move, because I have to. Because I know, even with this sorrow, even with this pain, Grace will still want me to keep fighting.
And I’m going to keep fucking fighting.
I don’t bother to look at myself long in the mirror. I don’t even try to think. If I do I’ll end up smashing my fist through the glass and that won’t do me any good. With the water on warm, small amount of hand soap, and the cheap paper towels, I try to rid the blood the best that I can.
I watch swirls of crimson pool down the sink until the water starts to run more on the pinkish clear side.
Catching a glance at myself in the mirror I’ve done a decent job of getting rid of the blood on my skin.
The only blood that remains is on my clothes and my cut.
Sighing, I drop my head and wearily I run my hands through my hair.
There’s a knock at the door before the male nurse who helped me with my panic attack comes in. He’s holding out a pair of blue scrubs. “We only have 2extra-large.” He shrugs apologetically. I wear a 3extra-large so the top will be a snug fit but it will have to do.
I nod my head in thanks.
Respectfully, I take off my cut and hang it on the hook on the back of the bathroom stall. Setting the water again I begin the process of cleaning my cut.
“You belong to a motorcycle club?” The nurse questions. He doesn’t sound judgmental, just curious.
“Yeah.”
“How long?”
“Long time.”
Silence ensues between us but it doesn’t deter him. “What did you do before that?”
I finish cleaning my cut. There’s still some stains but I’ll have to worry about it at another time. I turn the water off. Then I look at him. “I was a Marine.”
“Thanks for your-”
I hold my hand in the air. “Please, don’t.”
He nods his head. “Alright. Forget I said it.”
“Listen,” I begin trying not to sound like a dick because the guy has been nothing but helpful, but I’m mentally fucking gone, “thank you for helping me with the panic attack. And with the clothes. But I’m shit company right now.
I can’t stand here and talk with you when my woman is being operated on.
I’m not here. I’m just not. And until her eyes open and her voice says my name I won’t be here. You understand me?”
“I understand, Oak,” he says sympathetically. He then shrugs. “I just thought I could keep you company until your friends made it here. Didn’t want you to be going through this alone.”
If it’s possible I feel even more like a piece a shit than before. My shoulders sag in defeat as I release a deep sigh. “I appreciate it.”
“Hollows Point,” he laughs but it sounds pained in a way. I look at him then, really look at him and I see it. Pain always recognizes pain. “You don’t live here and get away unscathed. It’s fucked, but all of us here are connected by the trauma we share.”
This town is a cesspool. And it tries its damnedest to drag everyone in its darkness.
“When I was a Marine,” I find myself opening up to him, “I lost my brothers. We were on a mission and we all decided to push ahead.” It’s the first time I have ever not taken full responsibility for their deaths.
The first time since I have not let the blame lie fully on me.
“And they didn’t survive.” And still, coming to terms with their deaths isn’t any easier.
Some days, I don’t think it ever will be.
“Fuck,” he breathes out. “I know you might not want to hear it or that it doesn’t help but I’m sorry.
” Before I would’ve agreed with him. But being in therapy along with group therapy has helped changed my perspective a little.
It’s only people showing they care. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
And I shouldn’t punish myself for it either.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the same. Does it help you?”
He leans against the bathroom sink. His arms crossed over his chest. A faraway look crosses over his eyes. “It never brings them back, does it? All the condolences in the world and they’re still gone.”
A man who shares the same pain. A tragedy I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. “Do you mind me asking who you lost?”
“My son and wife.” I see him turning a gold band on his ring finger. His wedding ring he never had the heart to part with. “How many years have passed since you lost your brothers?”
“Ten.”
“Has it gotten any easier?”
“The grief of losing them will never pass but I find myself being able to breathe easier. I find myself enjoying life again. But there still isn’t a day where I don’t think about them.”
“But there’s hope. Hope that there will be life again.”
I nod, my throat thick with emotion. “Yeah, there’s hope. You will live again, Trevor. Believe me, you will.”
“One day, just not today.”
I see so much of the man that I was in this young man. A man lost in his grief. A man who believes he’s already lost a war.
“If you ever find yourself in Stonesville, PA, you’re welcome at Vipers MC any time no questions asked.”
Some warmth returns in his brown eyes. “I might take you up on that.”
“You should. It’s a personal invitation from me. No one will question it,” I tell him.
“Then I’ll make sure I find myself there sometime soon,” he says and I believe him. The man is lost, like I was. And maybe coming to visit us at Vipers MC will help him. In the same ways as it helped me. In the same ways as it helped all of us.
Quickly changing out of my clothes I change into the scrubs that Trevor gave me. Putting on my cut I’m sure I look like an outlaw nurse but I don’t have the energy to care, not that I ever really did.
“I have a few phone calls to make,” I tell him.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says understandably.
As soon as he leaves the bathroom I cross back over to the sink and retrieve my phone.
I dial the phone number to Connor’s school. After speaking with the counselor she has agreed to let Connor leave school early and his absence of school for the next week.
With shaky fingers I click on the next contact. Nico answers on the third ring and he sounds breathless which can only mean on thing. “This better be good, Oak,” he warns me and I hear a woman giggling in the background as the sound of kisses are being planted on god knows where.
“Off speaker, Nico.”
I literally hear the woman pout as he orders her out of the room and after a minute he switches off speaker phone. “Speaking confidentially, I assume. What have you done that acquires my services this time?”
“I killed someone.”