“Ma’am, do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?”
My body felt so heavy. My mind felt so slow. Blood was dripping down my face. I could feel it in my eyes. “I . . . I . . . don’t . . .”
Memories floating through my brain. Headlights coming toward me. Brakes squealing. Falling. “I was hit by a truck,” I muttered.
“Yes, that’s right.” A bandage was placed on my head. My head. I remembered hitting my head on the ground. That’s why I hurt. That’s why I was bleeding. But my body hurt too. My shoulder ached. I felt bruised. Kellan pulled me to my feet. I hit him before hitting the ground.
I instantly tried to sit up. “Kellan!”
The paramedic pushed me down and tried to stabilize me. My eyes flew to where Kellan had last been. All I saw was glass and blood; no Kellan. “You have a nasty cut, ma’am. I need to bandage this and make sure you don’t have any other injuries. You could make things worse by moving. Do you know your name?” he asked, his voice gentle.
“Kiera Allen . . . Kyle. Where’s my husband?” I asked, my voice raw.
The paramedic’s hands worked on my head. I tried to hold still for him, but all I wanted to do was run up and down the street screaming Kellan’s name. “The other paramedics are working on him, Kiera. He’s in good hands.”
Even though my vision was a little blurry, I noticed the paramedic look to our left. My soul filling with trepidation, my gaze followed. Kellan was lying on a stretcher similar to the one I was on. He was covered in blood too, and I didn’t know if it was his or mine. And not knowing scared the crap out of me. “Kellan!”
I shouted his name, but he didn’t respond. He was shaking. He looked ill. Then, to my absolute horror, he leaned over and vomited blood.
Panic set in, and I tried to get to him, but the paramedic held me down and my stretcher was shoved into the back of an ambulance. “Is he okay? Is he okay?” I just kept repeating it. I couldn’t stop myself.
Before I got an answer, the doors were closed and the vehicle took off. The sirens hurt my ears, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Why was he throwing up blood? Was he okay? He had to be okay.
Holding my hand, the paramedic told me, “They’ll do everything they can for him. I promise.”
His words didn’t help me much. I started sobbing.
I felt numb when we got to the hospital. Words hit my ears, but I couldn’t process any of them. Someone said I was in shock. Someone mentioned concussion. Head injury. Internal injuries. None of the words stuck, though, because a vision of Kellan heaving blood was all I could think about. I was poked, prodded, and my stomach was pushed and massaged. I was sore, my shoulder throbbed, but I wasn’t hurt. Only not knowing Kellan’s fate hurt.
He arrived at the ER right as a nurse injected a numbing agent into my head; I had to get stitches for the cut on my scalp. I saw him being wheeled past my room and hopped off the bed. Kellan wasn’t vomiting, but he wasn’t awake either. He looked completely lifeless. It scared the shit out of me.
My nurse hurried after me, telling me I needed her attention. The nurses hovering around Kellan were telling the doctor in their midst just what had happened to Kellan. I stayed back so I could listen without them seeing me; I did not want to be dragged away until I knew what was wrong. “Young male, early twenties, involved in a car accident. Was confused and light-headed at the scene, vomiting blood. Abdomen is distended, he has tachycardia and is hypotensive.”
The doctor nodded as he checked Kellan’s vitals. He pulled up his shirt, and even I could see his stomach was bulging. He tenderly pressed on it and Kellan’s eyes opened as he gasped in pain. “He’s bleeding internally. Prep him for surgery.”
That got my attention. Stepping forward, I asked the doctor, “Surgery? Is it bad? Is my husband going to be okay?”
The doctor gave me a polite smile. “I’ll do everything I can.” Blocking my path, he examined my head as Kellan was carted away from me. “You really need stitches for this cut.”
He nodded his head at the nurse behind me. She gently grabbed my arms and pulled me back into the exam room. Kellan was already gone, and I knew there was nothing I could do for him by trying to follow. Tears in my eyes, I turned to my nurse. “Do you know what happened to him?”
The nurse sat me on the table and pressed some gauze against my head. “Most likely, something inside of him ruptured. He’s bleeding. They need to remove or repair the damage as soon as possible.”
She grabbed a needle and some thread and I fought against the sudden acidic bile in my throat. “Is he going to die?” The tears in my eyes spilled down my cheeks. It couldn’t end like this.