Chapter Nineteen
REILLY
IKNOW I promised Bray I’d stay in the basement—I should stay in the basement—but something twists in my gut.
Something is wrong with Holly. I can feel it.
I can’t name what it is, but I feel fear like I’ve never felt before.
Bone crunching coldness runs through my veins.
My skin is prickling, sweat running down my spine.
Shit, Holly is here; she was bringing me lunch today. There is currently a mad gunman waving a fucking gun around on the ground floor and my sister’s going to walk through those doors, or probably already has.
Sorry, Bray, but I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.
I punch the code into the lift that will let me out near the back of the ground floor.
The trip back up from the basement feels like it takes forever.
Just as the doors open, I hear a gunshot.
Loud ringing rages through my ears. I know, I’m the idiot in all the horror films that runs towards the bad guy, but instinct takes over and run I do, out towards the middle of the ground floor.
I can hear Zac shouting, and Dean fighting someone on the floor.
I see Holly standing at the doorway, intact, thank God.
She makes eye contact with me, her eyes filled with an expression I’ve only ever seen once before, when our brother died.
An overwhelming sadness blankets her, tears running down her face.
I can still hear Zac shouting, and when I look in his direction, my whole world falls apart.
I feel like the rug has literally been pulled from under my feet.
I can’t move. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?
As I struggle for oxygen, I fall to the ground on my hands and knees.
A scream retches its way from my throat, but I don’t hear it.
The room is spinning in silence. Someone touches my arm.
James. I look up at him. He is talking but I don’t hear a word of what he’s saying.
I need to get to him. I have to get to him. I drag myself up and run, stumbling to Bray. Bray, who is laid out on the floor, blood covering the front of his body and spilling out beside him. Falling to my knees next to him, I look up to Zac, who has his hands over the gaping wound in his chest.
“Zac, wh… what do I do? Tell me what to do,” I cry,
wanting to do something but not knowing what to do. “Where the fuck is the ambulance? Somebody, get a fucking ambulance here now!” Zac yells out.
“They’re two minutes away. Keep pressure on the wound,” James says from behind me.
I lean down next to Bray’s face and whisper in his ear, “Don’t you dare fucking leave me, Braydon Williamson, not when I’ve just found you.” I’m a slobbering mess.
Holly comes and sits next to me; she grabs my hand and holds on tight.
My other hand grasps Bray’s. Why does he feel so lifeless?
Cold? Where the hell is the ambulance? One minute later, I’m being shoved out of the way by ambulance officers.
I refuse to let go of Bray’s hand; he needs me.
I need to help him. Zac ends up picking me up off the floor and moving me out of the way.
“Reilly, we have to let them help him. They have to help him,” he says to me.
I watch as the medics work on the other half of my soul. I watch as they place his lifeless body on the gurney and wheel him out to the ambulance on the street, all the while continuing to work on him. I watch, totally helpless to do anything to save the man I love.
“Let’s go,” Zac says, dragging me by the hand out of the club.
He puts me in the car before running around to the driver’s seat and flying out to catch up to the ambulance that just took off.
The whole trip Zac manages to stay directly behind the ambulance, not bothering to stop at red lights, screeching around street corners, and ducking in and out of the busy Sydney city traffic.
“I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. I only just found him,” I repeat over and over.
“We are not losing him, Reilly. It’s not a fucking option,” Zac yells at me. His hands clench the steering wheel.
As soon as he stops at the emergency room doors, I jump out of the car. The drive has allowed time for some of my shock to wear off. I run through the emergency room, stopping at the counter. I can see Bray being wheeled in by the paramedics through the plexiglass of the triage counter.
There are doctors and nurses rushing in every direction, calling out words I don’t understand. Then I spot Alyssa; she’s standing there staring at Bray. Her head pops up at something a doctor says and I hear her yell at them, “This is my fucking brother! You do everything you can. Now!”
Another nurse grabs her by the arm and pulls her away from the gurney as they wheel it to another room. By this time, Zac is standing next to me watching the same scene.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife before I cut them off,” he growls through the plexiglass window.
This makes Alyssa turn and notice us. She runs out the door and straight into Zac’s arms, allowing herself only a moment of comfort, before she stands back and looks between us.
We are both covered in blood, Bray’s blood.
“What happened?” she asks quietly.
I don’t even know what to tell her. I go to speak; my mouth opens but no words come out.
I can’t get the words to work. The panic is creeping up on me.
I can feel my skin getting hot, my breathing becoming more and more difficult as I gulp to drag air into my lungs.
My hands clutch at my throat, and I bend at the waist, trying to breathe, trying to just count to ten.
Zac grabs my face in his hands. He bends down to my level.
“Reilly, fucking breathe. I am not going to be telling my brother that his girlfriend stopped breathing when he comes out of that theatre room.” I search his eyes for the lie, that Bray’s not coming out of that room.
I can’t see it, the lie; it’s not there.
He believes that Bray is coming out of this.
“Reilly, I need you to have more faith in him. Don’t you dare fucking give up on him,” he tells me.
I nod my head in agreement, but I feel him slipping away already. I feel a loss like no other, like a part of me has died, burnt, and is now ashes blowing in the wind. A part of me that I will never get back.
“I’m going to go back and see if I can find anything out,” Alyssa says.
“Wait, why are you even here, sunshine? You told me you quit this job weeks ago,” Zac questions.
“I tried to call you to tell you I was coming in. I got called; they were short-staffed and desperate. It’s just for the day.” She leans up and kisses him.
“I don’t care how much money I have to throw at this fucking hospital, make sure he has the best doctors in that theatre room,” Zac tells her. Alyssa nods her head, before walking back through the doors, leaving Zac and me standing in the waiting room—both unsure of what to do now.
Four hours later, I’m seated on the horrible plastic chairs, cuddled into Holly. Ella is clinging onto Dean like a lifeline, silent tears streaming down her face. Alyssa and Sarah are sitting opposite Holly and me, both quiet.
Zac hasn’t stopped pacing the room; up and down, he keeps moving. A few times Alyssa has tried to get him to sit down, but he won’t. The only times he stops pacing is when she throws herself into his arms and he clings to her, whispering in her ear.
I hate this waiting. Why hasn’t someone been out here already?
What’s taking so bloody long? With each minute that passes, any little hope I have dwindles away.
Pretty soon, I’m going to be all out of hope.
I’m going to be left with nothing, left to pick up the pieces of a broken heart again.
Except this time, it’s not just broken, it’s shattered into a million pieces.
A doctor walks out and calls out, “Family of Braydon Williamson.”
“That’s me,” Zac and I both say at the same time. I jump out of my chair and rush up to the doctor. Ella comes up and stands quietly next to Zac.
“He looks between the both of us. And you are his…” He leaves the question open.
I look to Zac for an answer. If I say I’m his girlfriend, they are not letting me through. I know the drill.
“I’m his brother; this is his sister.” He points to Ella. Then he looks over to me. “This is his wife Reilly.” Zac’s lie slips out of his mouth effortlessly.
For once in my life, I actually wish it weren’t a lie. I wish I was Bray’s wife. Why didn’t I marry him weeks ago when he wanted to fly to Vegas? The next time he asks if we can fly to Vegas, I’m jumping on that. Please God, let there be a next time.
“Okay, Braydon suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen. The bullet tore through his small intestine. We had to remove part of the bowel. He also suffered from a dangerous level of blood loss. He’s stable for now and is in the ICU.
He is in a medically-induced coma for the time being.
I can take the two of you back to see him for a few minutes, but you’ll have to wait until we move him to a private room for any longer visitations. ”
All I heard was he is stable. He’s okay… he’s going to be okay. I haven’t lost him yet. My hope wants to climb back up from the ashes, but I need to see him first.
Zac grabs my hands and holds on tight. “Thank you,” he says to the doctor.
We follow the doctor down long corridors until we finally make it to a ward that reads ICU on top of the doors.
Zac squeezes my hand tighter. “He’s going to be okay,” he whispers.
I’m not sure if he’s trying to reassure me or himself.
When we make it into the ward, the doctor stops at a curtained-off section.
There is a nurse doing something with buttons on machines that persistently beep.
I listen to the beeps, taking comfort in the beat of his heart playing out through the machine.
Letting go of Zac’s hand, I slowly make my way to Bray’s side.
He looks peaceful, even with all the tubes and cords attached to him everywhere, he looks peaceful.
I gently hold his hand. “Bray, I need you to keep fighting for me. Just hold on that little bit longer and come back to me. Please, don’t you dare let go,” I whisper to him.
Zac wraps his arm around my shoulder. “He’s a fighter, Reilly, and there’s never been a fight he hasn’t won. Trust me, he’s not giving up.” Zac lets go of me, turns to the doctor, and asks, “When is he being moved to a private room? And when will he be woken up?”
“He’ll be moved up in a few hours. As for waking him up, we will slowly bring him out of the induced coma starting tomorrow.
Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes a day.
It all depends on his body. He’s not out of the woods yet.
The next twenty-four hours are critical to telling us how his recovery will be,” the doctor replies.
“Good, I want him in the best room you have. Money is not an object,” Zac states like it’s a done deal, like money will fix everything.
Money does not fix everything. Money could not save my brother.
Money could not keep my dad out of jail.
And no amount of money will save Bray. I know that, and deep down, Zac knows that too.
Bray’s recovery is out of our hands, all we can do is sit back and hope.
But hoping has never worked in my favour before.
“It’s been two fucking days. Why the fuck is he not waking up?” Zac growls at the doctor, who is currently trying to do his rounds.
“These things take time. The drugs have worked their way out of his system. The only thing keeping him asleep is his own body not being ready to wake up. His brain activity scans are normal, and there is no sign of damage. All we can do is wait,” the doctor responds calmly.
“Wait, how long do we have to wait?”
“Zac, hunny. The doctors can’t answer that; you know that. We just have to be patient, and let them do their jobs. He will wake up. He has to,” Alyssa says, pulling Zac out of the doctor’s way.
Zac doesn’t reply. He wraps his arms around Alyssa and stares at what the doctors are doing, watching their every move, like he’s waiting to pounce on someone.
Me? I’m sitting in the same place I’ve been for the past two days, in the uncomfortable chair by Bray’s bed.
Holly has been bringing me changes of clothes.
I use the private bathroom Bray has, taking less than five minutes to shower and change.
I can’t risk him waking up and me not being there.
I need to be there when he wakes up. The couple of times I have showered, I made sure Holly took my place.
At least then if he woke up, he would still see me, or a very close second.