Chapter 90: Chapter 90

Chapter 90 Silent Prayer

Colton was growing weary and his eyes were glazing over. It seemed like it was harder and harder for him to keep up the fight to stay awake, and I squeezed his hand tightly in mine. Blood stained his shirt that was against his lower ribs and I put pressure to try to stop the bleeding.

"Hang on for me, just a little longer....an ambulance is on the way, you'll be okay, I promise." The desperation in my voice sounded like I was trying to convince myself, even though in reality, things were looking bleak.

I could see it in his eyes - the exhaustion, the will to just give into the sleep that wishes to take him. He looked completely out of it, like there was nothing in his eyes as he clung onto the string of life.

His lips were quivering and he squeezed my hand tightly as he let out a groan of pain. "A-Lily.....it hurts." He stutters, letting out a painful cough followed by another sound of pain. His voice was quiet and weak, and it even sounded painful. The sight made my heart wretch in my chest.

"I know it does, Colton, I know it does. But don't speak, focus on breathing, can you do that for me?" I ask, my hope fading as he grows weaker in my grasp.

His hand let go of mine and his head fell to the side. He was still breathing heavily, and my heart was in agony from worry. I felt sick to my stomach with the thought of losing him, because it looked like he was dying.

It was so unfair - I could do nothing, absolutely nothing as Colton was fading in my arms. I gently patted his cheek, trying to stir him and snap him out of the drowsiness he was falling into.

I feared that if he were to fall asleep, he'd never wake up.

He grunted, his eyes turning to mine.

"I'm proud to call you the first woman who I've managed to crush on." He says, a ghost of a smile on his face as his eyes light up for a moment before diving back into their fading appearance.

That makes my tears run faster, and I let my lips land on his forehead, planting a single, soft kiss there. This could be the last time I speak with him and I certainly wasn't going to waste it.

"And I'm proud to call you the man I'm afraid I might fall for." I reply quietly.

But I don't know if he heard my words.

Because when I looked down, he his head was limp against his chest and his eyes were closed. I tried to wake him, but he didn't move. "Colton?"

No answer.

"Colton!" I cried, shaking him.

Still no answer.

Overcome with sorrow, I buried my face in his neck the sound of the wailing sirens in the night became closer and closer.

And all I could think about was the possibility of losing Colton.

A silent prayer left my lips, hoping that somebody, anybody, would be merciful enough to hear my prayers, my final cry for help.

Because Colton's death would not only destroy him, but me, also.

* * *

The ride to the hospital was hectic, it's one I don't remember much because it was rushed and I was in a state of panic and shock. Paramedics quickly cut his shirt away and immediately did all what they could do before arriving to the hospital.

I hadn't seen Colton shirtless before, and damn, what I saw broke my heart. Evidence of his abuse was scattered across his body, on his abdomen, his chest, all over his arms and I can only imagine what his back looked like.

Besides the obvious bloody bullet wound was circular, light colored scars. There was many of them, and raised, bumpy scars created by what I could only assume by knives were also present, mainly on his chest. It looks like someone slashed him multiple times.

On his stomach, were small indents on his skin. Like he was beaten with a hard object, maybe a rod or a bat.

I had scars myself - I had been burned with hot irons and beaten with chains while I was being trafficked, but my scars weren't as numerous as his was.

The paramedics in the ambulance worked quickly to stop the bleeding and try to stabilize him. But I knew - I could tell by their faces that he was slipping away.

I didn't, I couldn't bring myself to ask them if he was going to be okay because I was terrified of their words. I didn't want them to confirm my suspicions, I couldn't handle that right now. I wanted to cling on to that sliver of hope that brought me at least a small amount of peace.

He was taken into the trauma unit at the hospital, where I was held back and told to wait in the waiting room. And God, was that the longest moments of my life. Sitting there in the waiting room, alone with my own mind torturing me by conjuring up the worst scenarios.

Other people were waiting in the room with me, too. It wasn't too crowded, there was a few empty seats available. Though it was now in the early morning hours, most of the people in the room with me weren't showing any signs of dozing off.

A few were asleep, but most of them were mindlessly flipping through magazines, clicking through their phones or just sat there blankly. One woman next to me had mascara running down her face, she looked like she could be a mother as she seemed she could be in her early forties.

She caught me staring, and I quickly averted my gaze.

"Life is rough, isn't it?" She surprised me by asking me a question.

I scratch the back of my head uncomfortable, pulling a few strands of hair from my scalp. I nod slowly. "Y-yeah, it really is." I murmur.

She smiles sadly at me when I look back at her. "Who are you waiting for?" She asks me.

"I-I'm here for....for a guy, he's my, uh....boyfriend." I stutter awkwardly, feeling my face becoming flushed, "He was shot in the street."

Talking to her helped ease the pain off of my heart. It helped me focus on something else rather than my own torment I was currently battling.

She looks down, a look of sorrow she wore on her face. "I'm sorry, that must be really hard. Have you heard anything about his current state yet?"

"No, I know nothing." I whisper, closing my eyes. If he dies, I don't know what I'll do. Holding him in my arms as he was fading was quite traumatic, I don't know how I'd deal with that memory if he were to.....

"It'll be alright." She says, laying a comforting hand on mine. She herself looks like a mess - her brown hair is thrown into a messy bun, some strands have fallen out and she looks really tired and stressed, in her brown eyes are pools of sorrow and stress.

"I sure hope so." I smile sadly at her, I see my reflection in her eyes. Her expression mirrors my own.

"What about you, why are you here?" I ask.

"Oh, my son....he got into an accident," She says sadly, "Drunk driver hit him when he was on the way home from the grocery store."

My blood runs cold, a sense of deja-vu hits me like a truck. "Drunk driver...." I repeat.

"Yes, a drunk driver. It angers me how one individual could be so careless, so selfish. I want nothing more than to strangle the life out of the person who drove drunk because they have minor injuries while my son? My son is fighting for his life." She says in anguish, tears pricking her eyes.

My heart aches, past guilt seeping back up and pooling in the form of nausea deep in the pit of my stomach.

The woman breaks apart before me. "Doctors don't think he'll survive." She cries, burying her face into her hands and sobbing quietly.

Despite my own dark, deep feelings from the past arising from the back of my mind, a lay a gentle hand on her back and try to comfort her the best that I can.

I've never been particularly good at comforting people, I tend to freeze up and just watch them cry while sitting there awkwardly, but this woman needed it.

"I-I'm so sorry, nobody deserves this suffering." I whisper to her.

She takes a deep breath. "Sorry, I just lost myself in the moment." She wipes her eyes, mascara sticking to her fingertips.

"It's okay, and I really do understand." If only she knew that I have been on the other side of this situation - where I was the guilty, the murderer.

Would she hate me if she knew about my past? Maybe.

I thought about the lives that have ended by my hand, by my foolish mistake. I take a deep breath, trying to get the images of the little boy crushed under the vehicle with dying eyes out of my head.

The sirens, the smell of burning rubber, the blood, the lifeless eyes, the death. It all seemed too real to me again, it all started replaying in my mind over and over again.

"Excuse me for one moment." I say, hastily getting to my feet and scrambling to the nearest bathroom. There's only a couple of women in the bathroom, but I ignore them.

Walking over to the sink, I take in my disheveled appearance. I hadn't realized I had Colton's blood staining my shirt. I wonder how many people saw that? My hair is wind swept and messy from pulling on it, and I look tired.

I don't hesitate to turn the water on and drench my face in the refreshing, ice cold water that chills me to the bone and makes me feel more alive. I breathe deeply, trying to calm down and not let that woman's words open wounds and memories that I've been suppressing for years.

I feel horrible. Horrible for the woman in the waiting room, horrible for her son, horrible for Colton, horrible for myself.

I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to break down and thrash a room. Fuck life, fuck life for all that it throws at me and for the pain it gives to me and others. Why can't I just have a normal life again?

Why can't things at least be peaceful?

I held myself together the best I could. My teeth gnashed against one another as I took one last glance at my reflection.

I dried my face off and left the bathroom.

When I stumbled back into the waiting room, I found that a middle aged doctor clothed in scrubs was waiting for me. Panic washed over me and for a moment, I could do nothing but freeze as I waited for them to break me the news.

"Are you the woman who brought Colton here?" He asks. I nod.

"He miraculously survived the surgery, despite flat-lining twice. If we had waited any longer, I'm almost certain he would be dead right now. His lung had collapsed and it was filling up with blood, which was slowly drowning him. The bullet had broken his ribs and damaged the tissues in that area. He's very weak right now, and though he's still alive, I fear that he may not make it through the night." One of the doctors informs me.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat, but it only seems to come back and ache even more.

"Can I go see him?" I ask feebly.

"You may, however, I must warn you of his condition. It is hard for many people to see their loved ones in a state such as he is."

I nod in acknowledgement of his words as he leads me down the long hallways of the hospital. Colton's room is relatively small, but upon looking at him, my heart breaks.

He's unconscious and he's got tubes everywhere. He's wearing a gown which shows off his arms, and I notice the IVs he has embedded into his skin. His breathing is even and I take his hand in mine.

"I'll give you some privacy, if you need anything or have any questions, just inform one of the nurses and I will be here." The doctor tells me, smiling sadly at me before leaving.

I sit there in silence for what seemed like hours, watching the clock tick over and over again. I don't know what to say to Colton, I struggle to find the words and I struggle to come to terms with reality.

I say the first words that come to mind. I don't even think he can hear me, and that thought hurts me yet comforts me at the same time.

Because my words were bold ones.

"I love you."

I held his hand, squeezing it gently in mine. "I don't even know if you can hear me, but Colton, if this is the last time I see you alive, I just want to let you know that you aren't leaving this earth forgotten. You are leaving this earth with someone who loves you. You may believe that you're alone and nobody loves you, but that isn't true. I love you, and my only regret is not finding you sooner."

My lip quivers and I hold in the tears. "I know if you were awake, you'd probably be rolling your eyes at me or saying some stupid tough manly shit," I chuckle, wiping my eyes, "And I know you think love is a silly concept but I'm here because I want to show you the side of life you never knew. So please fight for me, so we can explore that side of life together."

I pull his hand into my lap and open up his large hand, my fingers subtly tracing the lines and patterns in his palm. I feel the callouses glide under my fingertips as I continue to talk to him.

I talk to him until I run out of words to speak. Until my lips stop moving and my heart stops feeling.

Until my eyes started to feel heavy.

And it wasn't long before I was finally lulled into a dreamless sleep, propped up in a chair, leaning against the bed in which Colton was lying in.

His hand was still intertwined with mine.