His father gently squeezed his good arm. He took a few hesitant steps into the cubicle where Ally lay, acutely aware of his father right beside him. Strangely, it did not comfort him. The crushing weight of guilt bore down on him instead.
She lay on her back, dark hair pooling on the pillow beside her. A rigid white plastic collar encircled her neck and her ghostly complexion blended into the white sheets. Her entire body was bathed in an ethereal light cast by the fluorescent bulb on the wall above her head.
The nurse began talking, explaining to them what all the tubes and machines were for, but Jack couldn’t concentrate on anything she said. His attention was focused on Ally, lying there, so still, so pale. He willed her to understand how sorry he was.
He wasn't to know it, but this picture of her would haunt him over the lost years that followed.
His father squeezed his arm again, murmuring something that he couldn't hear for the buzzing in his head. Callum approached the bed and it was as if the world had tilted sideways. One minute, everything was perfect, the next he was trapped in this nightmare. In between was a split-second decision he would regret for the rest of his life. Callum reached out to take Ally’s hand, holding it for a moment before turning to him, tears glistening in his eyes. Jack looked away, guilt wrenching at his insides.
"Just hold her hand, Jack. Let her know you're here," his father said gently.
Tears blinded him. A hand on his back urged him forward and he wanted to shrug it off and run but he couldn’t. Callum shuffled out of his way and a look of understanding passed between them.
Shock. Despair. Terror.
Jack picked up Ally’s hand, her fingers cool and smooth. She felt so vulnerable, so fragile. It was like something out of a movie. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be – things like this happened to other people, not to them. He laid her hand down on the bed again, tears rolling down his cheeks. He felt like he was hyperventilating and he fought to control his breathing, to slow it down so the world didn't feel like it was closing in on him.
“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, take it easy,” his father whispered.
Jack turned toward him, silently willing him to help. Just like he had when his mother was dying. And now, as then, he realised there was no way out of this. It was happening. The agony and heartache of this night was already etched into the lines of his father’s face.
He turned his back on everything, trying to put the nightmare behind him, rounding the corner of the cubicle and out into the main floor of the ICU. He only made it a few steps before his knees buckled and he hit the floor heavily. Balancing on his knees and his one good hand, he stared blankly at the linoleum. Callum's voice rang in the background, his vision swam, his shoulder burned hot. He found himself wanting to just lay down right there on the floor, not caring what happened next. What did it matter, anyway? Life as they knew it was over.
Instead, he was hoisted physically upwards. His vision slowly cleared and he blinked, lifting his head. He sat in a plastic chair, a nurse leaning over him. He heard the words “panic attack” and from somewhere deep inside, he agreed. He was panicked – more than that, he was absolutely terrified.
Something bright shone in his eyes and he swatted it away. Someone asked if he wanted some water and he nodded. Looking over the nurse’s shoulder, he saw his father staring at him, his face contorted into an anxious frown.
"I'll get you some water. You just wait right here, okay?" he ordered gruffly.
The nurse left him a few moments later and he glanced over at Callum, pale and stoic in a chair opposite him.
“Sure you're alright?" Callum asked.
Jack began to nod, then thought better of it, his head still pounding. "I'm fine.”
“You passed out."
Jack stared back at him, trying to breathe normally. His head swam.
Callum leaned forward, the hospital gown stretched taut over his knees. "It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
"How the hell am I gonna tell her?”
"You tell her what she needs to know. That’s it. No guilt tripping, Jack – I mean it. Stick to the facts."
"The fact is I did this to her," he whispered.
"Hey, we talked about this. Don’t complicate it, don’t make it harder than it already is,” Callum frowned. "We all have to be strong for her. She's going to need us – especially you – when she wakes up."
Jack shook his head again, his heart pounding. "I can't. I can't do it… "
“You have to,” Callum said simply. “You can’t let this shit take over, dude. Just breathe – you need to breathe.”
The aches and pains from earlier in the night seemed to vanish and Jack felt as if he floated far above himself, watching from a distance. Just hours ago, the future had stretched in front of him, an engagement ring tucked safely in the pocket of his jeans.
Now, there was nothing.
Callum was halfway to his car by the time Jack caught up with him.
“Hey!”