It’s been hours. Hours.
The worthless hospital staff won’t tell me anything. I am growing more and more paranoid by the minute. My foot is tapping the ground rapidly, and my eyes have been darting around to glare at all the nurses and doctors suspiciously. Even the janitors have been getting the stink-eye, because they could be in on it, too. For all I know, my girlfriend could be dead, and they’ve formed some sick conspiracy to keep it from me. She could be growing cold in the morgue as we speak.
I should have married her.
If Helen was my wife, they couldn’t keep her away from me. I would be family. I would be her emergency contact—the person who was allowed to be at her side when disaster strikes. I want to be that person. Now, more than ever, I know that I want to be that person.
I only hope that I’ll still get a chance.
“I need to see her,” I say suddenly, rising to my feet and marching over to the desk.
The nurse clears her throat. “Unfortunately, we can’t allow—”
“No!” Something in me snaps as I stare at her stupid, empty face. “I won’t wait a second longer. I’m a fucking doctor! You can’t keep me out of her room. I’m more qualified to be in there than you are.”
“Sir, I’m so sorry,” she squeaks in a terrified way. “It’s family-only unless the patient gives permission.”
Cursing softly under my breath, I run my hands through my hair. “She can’t fucking give permission if she’s unconscious!”
“Sir, if you don’t settle down I’ll have security remove you from this hospital.”
“Calm down, buddy,” Owen says softly, moving to my side. “She’s almost been stabilized, and that’s all that matters. The little lady will wake up and ask for you soon. She’s going to be okay.”
“She didn’t even want to be taken to the hospital,” I mumble miserably. “I should have listened to her. I should have taken care of her myself.”
“You did the best you could,” Owen assures me. “Let’s just try to relax and trust the other professionals to handle things.”
“In this backward-ass shack they call a hospital, in the middle of nowhere?” I say through gritted teeth. “I should have just driven her home to civilization. But when she fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up...” My mind drifts back to that moment in the car.
From what I understand, Helen hasn’t been awake since then. Is it my fault? Did I let this happen to her? Could I have taken better care of her? Am I a violent bastard like my father?
“Jim, please stop cursing like that in front of the boy,” my mother whispers in fear. “He hears everything, you know? I don’t want Liam to grow up sounding so vulgar.”
“Vulgar? That’s what you think of me, whore?” My father’s slurring words and alcohol breath always mixed together in the worst combination. I remember him grabbing my mother by the throat and squeezing his large hand around her small neck. “I’ll show you vulgar.”
My mother was sent to the hospital many times over the years, due to my father’s direct brutality and accidental indiscretions. Is this what I have done to Helen?
Maybe I shouldn’t ask her to marry me. I’m toxic. I could end up hurting her even more than this. Years of fighting and drama building up between us could crush the spirit of a girl like that. I would never want to do that to her. I would never want Helen to be miserable and weighed down by the burden of life like my mother.
I vaguely hear the sound of footsteps behind me, but I ignore it and continue to get lost in my thoughts. When I found Helen close to the scene of her car crash, I could tell that she didn’t want to survive. She wanted to die and be free from this world, and all her pain and fear. I know that Grayson was a big part of that, but how much did I contribute?
How could I have been so dreadful that I made my girlfriend want to die to be free of me?
When I hear a throat being cleared and a man’s booming voice, I turn around in surprise.
“Liam,” says Mr. Winters in a tired voice. He looks older than ever with his silver hair and wizened face. “Thank you for calling me, son.”
“Richard,” I say weakly. “This is all my fault...” I continue speaking, but I notice that Carmen is standing beside him. Her angry eyes lock with mine briefly. I am a bit startled by how massively pregnant she is. The last time I saw her, she was barely even showing.
Her husband is dead, I think to myself. This poor girl’s husband is dead, and it is possibly my fault. The sight of her swollen belly brings back memories of when my mother was pregnant with my little sister. I was seven years old, and impossibly excited. There are few things more magical in a child’s life than learning you’re soon going to have a younger sibling to love.
“I fucking told you already, Janet! We can’t afford another mouth to feed in this house. Doesn’t the damn boy cost us enough money? Get rid of that fucking thing before it sucks away our lives again.”
“That thing? That thing is your daughter, Jim. And Liam barely eats enough as it is. You won’t have to help me out with the baby. I don’t need you to help take care of her or change diapers. I make a little money, and it’s enough. I’m going to keep my baby.”
Of course, my father had other ideas. A few months of intense physical and psychological abuse, and much to his delight, my mother lost her baby. My father never had a second mouth to feed, and I never had a little sister to love. My poor mother was never the same. Am I just like him?
Did I just unintentionally subject Carmen to the same pain and suffering as my mother?
How the hell did this happen? How did one single lie end up getting blown out of proportion like this? How did one single mistake create a domino effect that managed to rip through our lives? I’ve hurt Helen, her father, her sister...
I never knew it until this moment, but I’ll never escape my past.
I am just like my father. I am just like him.