CHAPTER 24
I awoke to blinding bright ceiling lights shining from above. My head was throbbing; my I mouth was dry and my throat was sore. Where the hell was I? A nurse came into the area of what I presumed to be the ER of a hospital. All that provided privacy was a curtain on a rod that was easily pulled aside when someone wanted to enter. At that moment it was a nurse who came in and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing me awake.
She quickly put a blood pressure cuff on me and pumped the rubber bulb up to get my reading. I was still in a daze.
"What the hell happened?" My voice was weak and raspy.
"Don't worry," she replied in a very calming voice as she recorded my BP reading, "You are going to be just fine Mrs. Sinclair."
Then I suddenly recalled the chain of events that had brought me to this hospital; to this ER.
"Where is my husband? Where is Trey?" I asked, my voice did little to hide the panic that was evident.
"Mrs. Sinclair," she said in an almost scolding tone, "The important thing at this moment if for me to get your vitals and the doctor will be in shortly to examine you. You have a head injury that needs to be addressed. Please lay back down. Try your very best to relax."
There was no freaking way that I was going to lay on this gurney and relax. I wanted Trey; I had to know if Trey was alright.
I started shouting for him. The sound of my own hysterical voice resounded in my throbbing head. I didn't care. I was going to scream his name until he heard me and came to me. I needed him here with me. I needed my Trey.
"Doctor!" It was the nurse screaming now.
"I need help here in ER 2, stat."
The curtain was pushed aside and a man in a white lab jacket was beside my gurney in moments. I saw the syringe in his hand; I felt the prick of the needle in one of my arms as the nurse was lying across my torso to keep me from moving. Once again I sank into deep, dark silence.
My dreams swirled around me like a carousel of memories. I could hear carnival music in the background; crowds of people were murmuring to one another. Bits and pieces of conversations floated above me. I was suspended in an abyss without a care. I was searching faces for recognition; I was calm now. The fogginess of my dream was clearing. Sights and sounds were becoming more distinguishable. I was not at the carnival any longer. The noises were now reminiscent of my earlier awakening. They were hospital noises. My eyes stayed closed. My lids were too heavy to move. It seemed as if no time had passed at all since I had drifted off to sleep that I was awakening.
I heard a familiar voice now. It was smooth and silky. I felt relieved when I heard it. Thank God. It was my Trey.
"Trey?" I whispered loudly.
I felt someone near. Someone's hand was stroking my hair gently.
"It's Tristan," the voice said to me. "You are going to be fine, Tylar."
I willed my eyes to open. Tristan wasn't Trey but he was family and the closest thing that I had to Trey apart from Preston. Tristan would tell me what the hell had happened.
"Tristan? Where is Trey? What happened?"
I noticed that I was no longer in the ER. I was now in a hospital room. It seemed as if I was always opening my eyes to find myself in a hospital room over the past couple of years.
Tristan was looking down at me. He looked older than when I last saw him which had been only a little more than a week ago. Or had it?
"Tristan for the love of God; talk to me. Where is Trey? How long have I been here?"
"It's okay Tylar. You are at St. Matthew's. You were admitted yesterday. You have a concussion and the doctor wanted to keep you over a day or so to run some tests."
"And Trey?"
Tristan swallowed nervously.
(Oh God! This can't be good.)
"Trey is in surgery. He was critically injured when he was hit yesterday."
"I need to be there. I need to be waiting outside of surgery for when the doctor comes out to tell us that everything went well; that Trey will be fine. Get a wheel chair if you must Tristan, but please get me to the surgery floor."
I started to get up from my hospital bed. I realized I was attached to various monitors. I started to pull the IV needle out. Tristan's hand stayed mine.
"Tylar stop!" He had taken a very abrupt tone with me. That was not Tristan's style.
I looked up quickly and saw the pain that was evident in his eyes. He tried to stay calm for me.
"Tylar, Trey is not at this hospital. He had to be care-flighted to Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville for the surgery. They have one of the top neurosurgeons in the country there. That is what he needs at the moment."
"Someone has to be with him Tristan; I need to be with him."
"Mom and Dad are with him. You need to stay right here and make sure that you are okay. That is what Trey would want you to do."
I sank back against my pillow; the tears flowed as if they had been damned up for years. I recalled the events of yesterday. Someone had tried to run me down. Trey had pushed me away. It should be me at Vanderbilt University Hospital fighting for my life; not Trey.
"How bad is it, Tristan?"
"It's bad, honey. I won't lie. Trey coded twice before getting to Vanderbilt. They wouldn't even consider the surgery until they saw whether he would make it through the night. He did. All we can do now is pray."
"It should have been me."
"What? What are you saying, Tylar? Don't think like that."
"No, Tristan - you don’t understand. It was me that driver was trying to mow down yesterday. It wasn't Trey. Trey turned to look back at me and saw it. He pushed me out of the way. It should have been me."
"Now stop talking like that, Tylar; I mean it. You think I wouldn't have done the same thing? I would take a bullet for Gina. That's how men love."
"If Trey doesn't pull out of this I will never stop blaming myself, Tristan. It should have been me."
"It shouldn’t have been either one of you; that fucking dumb bitch!"
"What dumb bitch?"
"The driver of that SUV was some bitch named Karen Deeny. Your dad seems to know quite a bit about her motives. He is here in Atlanta now. He's talking to the detectives. There are loose ends to be tied up, I guess."
"Loose ends?"
"Yeah - thankfully she crashed into the building on the corner when her vehicle careened out of control after hitting Trey. The sorry bitch got her just desserts. She's dead. Thank God she didn't take anyone else with her . . . yet."
"Stop, Tristan!" I surprised myself with my ability to shout at him. It took him by surprise.
"God, I'm sorry, Tylar. What the hell was I thinking saying that?"
"Trey is not going to die - do you hear me?"
Tristan bent down so that his face was level with mine. I saw the tears well up in his eyes; I saw the pain that he was in now as well.
"I'm sorry, Tylar," he repeated softly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Tristan," I admonished him. "You need to believe that Trey will be alright. Do you hear me?"
He nodded solemnly; the tears were now running down his cheeks.
"Where is Preston?"
"Gina is with her and Reese. She doesn't know anything."
My tears continued their path down my cheeks.
"Your doctor has ordered some tests for this afternoon. Pending the preliminary results, you might be released yet today or tomorrow morning at the latest."
"Tristan - I need to talk to my father as soon as possible."
"Of course Tylar; he has been here. He will be here just as soon as he is finished downtown."
I felt relieved; my father would know what to do. My father would fix everything. I counted on that. I looked at Tristan and my heart was heavy for the pain he was feeling right now. It was nothing compared to my pain and guilt I felt over what had happened. Trey was going to pull through. He simply had to for us. Our love was strong enough to withstand this horrific incident. It had to be. I couldn't - no strike that - I wouldn't live in a world without Trey.
Tristan stayed with me until early afternoon. He received a phone call from Susan; Trey was out of surgery. They had been forced to drill holes through his skull to relieve the pressure of the blood that had built up as a result of brain hemorrhaging. His fractured skull was to the frontal area; the blood had drained to the area toward the back.
Trey was listed in 'guarded' condition. The next 24-48 hours were crucial.
Tristan explained Trey's other non-life threatening injuries but I was in a fog. All I could think about was getting to Trey's side.
My father stopped by my hospital room later that afternoon. He had spent some time with the authorities tying up whatever loose ends Tristan had mentioned. He was fully prepared to detail them out to me when I held my hand up for him to stop.
"Dad, please - not right now. I know that I need to know everything that you have found out at some point, but for now, I just can't handle it. I'm on emotional overload."
"Of course darling - what was I thinking? The most important thing is for you to get better and get out of here."
"No, Dad. The most important thing is for me to be with my husband."
"Sweetheart, Tristan has given you the updates. Trey is out of surgery and in recovery. He is in 'guarded' condition but stable. For what he has gone through, that is optimistic."
"I need to hear that from a doctor, Dad. No disrespect, but please, think about how I feel. No one has told me that other than people that love me. I need to hear that from someone who will give me an honest, objective opinion."
"Tylar - at this point it is too early to tell anything specific. He is in intensive post-op; he can't even have visitors until such time as he is moved to a step-down unit."
"Provided my test results show no blood clots or swelling in the brain, I will be released tomorrow afternoon. Will you please charter a plane so that I can get to Nashville?"
He gave me a heavy sigh - he knew that I would not relent until I was with my husband.
"What about Preston?" he asked.
"She will stay with Gina for now. I need to assess the situation with Trey. She isn't old enough to comprehend the condition her father is in. To be honest, I'm worried as to whether I can handle it. But that is neither here nor there. I will be at his side."
"Very well, Tylar. I will make the arrangements. Please try and calm yourself down and rest, okay?"
"I will, Dad."