A Brand New Ending

Chapter 31

Braeden



Phoenix remained silent throughout the ride, her hand still gripping mine tightly. I don't take my eyes off her until the ambulance comes to a stop, my heart racing immediately. I go to get up but Phoenix doesn't move.

"Phoenix?"

She doesn't respond. The paramedic goes to shift her so that she can lay down on the gurney but Phoenix flinches, her eyes now fixated on the restraints.

"Just stop," I tell the paramedic, suddenly angry that they are causing her distress.

"We need to get her inside," the paramedic responds. "She shouldn't walk."

Swinging myself around, I take Phoenix in my arms and carry her out of the ambulance. When we reach just outside the lobby, a nurse awaits with a wheel chair. Setting her down in it gently, her fingers find mine, her grasp strong again. We walk back inside, waiting for my father to show up. Minutes later, he and a team of nurses come around the corner.

"I'm going to have to let go." I bend down and whisper into her ear, snapping her out of her zombie state.

"No," she says, a tear running down her face. Reaching up with my other hand, I brush her cheek lightly, afraid she may recoil from my touch.

"I promise I am not going anywhere," I say. "Do you trust me?"

She nods. I start to unlock my fingers from hers, our hands releasing. Phoenix returns to her comatose state.

"Dad," I utter, still facing Phoenix.

"Yeah, Braeden?" he says, pulling his attention away from a nurse.

"Can you be the one who treats her?" I ask swallowing. "She trusts you." He nods and ushers her away and I watch until they are no longer in view.

~

"F*ck!" I mutter under my breath. I can feel each swoop of the needle as the doctor stitches up my shoulder, the anesthesia is not really helping. 13 stitches. Lucky f*cking me.

Once he is finished, he leaves the room, leaving me to my own. My body and mind are both worn out. I can't seem to relax, my mind keeps going over every second of the night, constantly returning to her. I lay my head back, pleading my body for any amount of sleep. Moments later, I hear the door swing open. I sit up immediately.

"How is she?" I blurt out.

"She's OK," he says plainly. I sit there, waiting for more. He picks up my chart and starts reading it.

"Andddd?" I say when the silence becomes too long.

"You know very well I can't tell you…."

Patient doctor confidentiality. "You have got to be f*cking kidding me," I mutter. "I think we're a little past that notion."

A sigh leaves his throat.

"She is suffering from a pretty decent amount of smoke inhalation. She has two bruised ribs, from what seems to be excessive CPR. Minor cuts were treated."

My heart sinks. I have caused her pain.

"Do you even care to hear about yourself?" I shake my head.

"Braeden," he says apprehensively. "She'll be fine. Time heals all wounds."

I get the vibe he's not talking just about the physical ones. "I just don't understand…how…why?" I start to mutter, my mind going in a million different directions.

"There are a lot of different reasons why people chose to abuse others. It can be a result of a mental health issue or disorders. Or some were abused themselves." I wasn't asking for a medical lesson.

I scoff. "Still doesn't excuse him from what the f*ck he did!" I say in a heightened voice.

"Braeden, calm down," my father says.

My knuckles instantly clench, my mind thinking about how very much I'd like to have five more minutes in a room alone with that monster.

"Is she awake?"

"No, she's on some strong pain medication right now; a lot of sleep is only natural. I think you should do the same son."

"I'm not tired."

He shakes his head.

"So stubborn. Just like your mother. Well, I am going to be around, please try to get some sleep," he begs again.

When he leaves I try shutting my eyes, but I know sleep is useless. Staring at the clock on the wall, an hour passes before I know I have to see her. Throwing my covers off, I exit my room, wondering how long it will be before I get caught. I only get a few feet before I feel something pinch my arm.

Grabbing the pole, I slowly make my way down the hallway, thankful her room is close to mine. I push the door open slowly, the room is dark except for a small amount of light coming through the blinds. I walk over to her bed, her eyes are closed. I take the time to look at her, all the cuts on her face have been cleaned, one of them required stitches on her forehead. I realize now how dizzy I am becoming. I grab a spare chair, pulling it up to her bedside. She is tightly tucked into her sheets, only her upper body and arms showing. She is hooked up to an IV also and an oxygen nose tube. Looking back down at her arm, I slide my hand into hers, holding it tightly. Then I wait.