49. Father Alexander
Father Alexander
A muffled beeping sound slowly drags me out of whatever darkness I’ve been in.
They are heavy, but my eyes begin to open, letting a bright light seep in.
I can feel my face scrunch up because of the brightness, and when my eyes open a bit more, the room is blurry.
I attempt to sit up, feeling a slight twinge in my chest. For a moment, I try to figure out why I’m in hurting, but then the memories resurface.
I was shot.
I feel a warmth wrapped around my palm. It’s comforting. Familiar. When I tilt my head slightly to look, I see a blurry figure sitting beside my bed. I blink a few more times, and when my vision becomes clearer, my voice cracks.
“Mom?”
“Oh.” Her breath hitches as she tries to inhale a deep breath of relief. “My sweet Alex,” she cries as she stands and kisses my forehead.
When she sits back in the chair next to my bedside, she scoots closer and tightens her grip around my hand.
“How are you feeling?” She wipes a tear away and sniffles as she tries to pull herself together.
I take a moment to look at her face. Her eyes are swollen and bright red. She must have been crying for so long. She must have been so scared she was going to lose me, too.
Seeing her like this makes my stomach feel uneasy. After everything that happened with Dad, and now seeing me like this… I remember that heartache. It’s a feeling I’d never wanted her to have to feel again.
“Tired,” I admit, softly smiling, hoping it will reassure her that she does not need to worry. “I’m okay, Mom.”
“I know,” she says sadly. “But I was so worried when I heard you had been shot.”
The sensation of the bullet piercing through my skin floods my mind. The pain that I felt as soon as it entered my body was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. My clothes were soaking up the blood that was gushing out of my body, and then the fear took over.
How was I supposed to keep Celine safe while I was lying there, bleeding out? I tried to push through it to get to her, but it was too excruciating. I could barely move. I had to remember that Celine was strong and clever. If anyone could make it out of this alive, it would be her.
At that thought, the other images and feelings take over. My vision began to narrow as I was losing consciousness, but I fought through it to make sure she was going to be okay. It was terrible having to be immobilized, watching Celine fight for her life while Father Keaton was attacking her.
How he broke her wrist.
How she got out of his grasp only to have him caging her to the floor with the gun to her head. I told her I loved her because I do. More than anything in this world, and I knew that if I was going to die, I couldn’t leave this Earth without telling her how I felt about her.
Darkness started to cloud my vision as I heard a pop ring through the room. The same sound that was emitted when I was shot.
I didn’t know who took the bullet, but when Celine came into the small tunnel of my vision and knelt by my side, telling me how much she loved me and how we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, I knew she was safe.
At her love confession, I felt content. I stopped fighting the urge to keep my eyes open any longer. I allowed myself to relax and let the Grim Reaper take me. Shaking my head of the thoughts, I look to my mom.
“Where is Celine? Is she okay?” I attempt to sit up more in the hospital bed, pain tearing through me.
“Honey, don’t try to move so much.” She inches forward in her seat, willing to stand up and stop me if I move another inch.
“But Celine—”
“She’s okay,” she reassures me. “She just ran to grab some coffee.”
As if we summoned her, Celine comes through the door, her back pushing it open while she struggles to carry two paper coffee cups. The green cast on her arm is preventing her from holding one cup normally, so she has it tucked against her body.
“They are starting to give me the coffee for free,” She lets out a small laugh. “I think they feel bad for me.”
She enters the door, her eyes finding mine. Her hand loosens around the paper cup, and she almost drops it, but my mom quickly stands and takes both cups from her.
Celine’s eyes fill with tears. “You’re awake.”
“And you’re okay.” I let out a sigh of relief.
She rushes to my bedside. “Besides the broken wrist and bruised rib, I’m okay. But you… Alex, I was so worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” I smile at her, lifting my hand to cup her cheek because I need to feel her warm skin against mine. “I’m alive, and you’re here.”
Celine returns the smile, melting under my touch. “I’m here.”
I brush my thumb along her skin and ask, “How long have I been out?”
“A few days.” My mom answers. “You’ve been in and out, but when you were awake, it was only for a couple of seconds.”
“The pain meds must be strong because I don’t remember waking up before now,” I say, dropping my hand to hold Celine’s.
“They are giving you a high dose and will lower it over time,” Celine informs me. “I’m sure the doctor will come talk to you about all of it, but they want to keep you in the hospital for a while.”
“We should probably let the doctor know you are awake.” My mom states, then presses the call button on the remote attached to my bed.
It’s only a few seconds before a nurse comes in to see me awake before she fetches the doctor. The man who enters is around my mom’s age, with salt-and-pepper hair and a bit of scruff. His smile is broad as he assesses my face.
“Welcome back, Alex,” he says, approaching the side of my bed. “I’m Doctor Allen. How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted, in a bit of pain,” I answer.
“I’ll have the nurse come in and administer another dose.”
“Will it make me fall asleep?” I question.
“Yes.” Doctor Allen responds honestly.
“I want to hold off then.” I squeeze Celine’s hand, and she returns the gesture.
“That’s fine,” he says with an understanding nod. “I’m sure Celine or your mother has filled you in on everything, but it is protocol that I explain things to you. The bullet entered through your chest, missing your heart. If you had been standing more to the left, it would have been fatal.”
My eyes slide to my mom, who is standing behind the doctor with her hand up to her mouth and tears in her eyes. Her body has a slight tremor to it, and I want nothing more than to get out of this bed and hug her to heal her heartache.
“At the church, before the officers arrived, you had lost so much blood that you had died,” he tells me, not beating around the bush. “Celine here started giving you CPR, and then the paramedics continued when they found you. If Celine hadn’t begun CPR when she did, you may not have come back.”
I look to Celine, who seems in a daze, no doubt recalling the traumatic event. When she feels my stare, her eyes drop to mine. “I only did what I knew I had to do.”
“You saved his life.” My mom says with gratitude.
“That you did,” the doctor tells her. “There was a moment on the operating table that we almost lost you again, but our team was able to do what they do best to keep you with us.”
“Thank you,” I tell the doctor with a lump in my throat.
He dips his head. “We would like to keep you here for a while. We want to make sure there are no complications and that you are fully healed by the time you leave.”
“How long will that be?” I ask.
“It depends on how seriously you take the process while here. It could be a few weeks, could be a few months,” he explains, and my chest deflates. “The full recovery can take at least a year, but once we see you making improvements here without any complications, you will be able to go home.”
I slowly nod. “Okay.”
Doctor Allen smiles. “Okay! I will create a recovery plan, and then we can review it together. For now, the best thing for you is rest.”
The doctor leaves the three of us, and I lay my head back staring at the ceiling while I think about what my life has come to.
I joined the church to better myself and to get out of the terrible life I was living. I didn’t want to end up in jail, and I sure as hell didn’t want to end up dead because living in the world that I had been living in, either of those things was possible.
Jail by getting caught, which happened to me already. And death. Whether it was from the drugs themselves or from pissing off the wrong person and getting shot. Who would have known that joining the priesthood, I would still get shot and die, only to be brought back to life?
And even though I’m mad about the fact that I’ll be in the hospital for so long, I shouldn’t be.
The plan was to leave the church and start my life with Celine, but now that has been put on hold.
I try to let go of the anger I feel over not being able to start our life together, because things could be worse.
The CPR couldn’t have worked. The surgery could not have worked.
But it did, and I’m alive with the love of my life standing by my side.
“It’s going to be okay,” Celine says, reading my mind. “You’re going to recover really fast, and then we can get out of here.”
I offer her a half smile when my mom announces, “I’m going to give the two of you some time alone.”
“You don’t have to go,” Celine tries to tell her.
With a sad expression, my mom says, “Both of you went through something very traumatic. I want to give you space to talk about everything. I’ll go find Vince and Amelia to let them know you are awake.”
My mom leaves, but the names that left her have my brows dipping. I look to Celine, who is smirking.
“She met them when she got in the other day. Vince and Amelia haven’t left my side since the night they rushed in here.”
“I’m glad you weren’t alone, and I’m sorry you had to meet my mom under these circumstances.” I let out an awkward laugh. “It’s not how I wanted you two to meet for the first time.”
“Timing isn’t always perfect, but your mom and I are practically best friends now.”
I smirk, massaging my thumb against the back of her hand. “Like how you and Sister Greta are best friends?”