The Last Of The Stars

Part 4

Looking at her limp form on the bed, her brown hair surrounding her glorious bruised face only brought more fear rippling and quivering through my still form.

I could hear my breathing get faster, but I couldn't control it. I started to gasp.

A nurse entered the room. She began taking Sarah's vitals, not even realizing I was sitting in the corner. She was concentrated on the information she was writing down on the chart.

The light rhythmic movement of Sarah's heart continued at a steadier beat, a little faster than when she was in a peaceful sleep. Again, I was counting the seconds.

"She is healing nicely. Once the swelling goes down around her brain we will try and wake her, but it is strictly up to her body to decide when she is ready to awake from this coma," he stated firmly, yet in a tone that would help ease my stress.

Each second that I continued to count reminded me of the precious soul lying in the bed before us. She was so breakable, and I had to leave. Not now, but after she recovered. I did this, I have to clean it up. I won't leave her here, broken, without help.

The only sound from Sarah was her light breathing, which had a little rattle from her bruised ribs and her steady heartbeat. I shook my head in disgust at what I had done to her. Though she was bruised and tubes and wiring seemed to be coming from her every orifice, she was still beautiful to me.

She didn't deserve this.

I regret everything I did that night.

The partying.

The drinking.

The driving.

I hated myself for it. Though I had done it so many times before. I thought this time would be no different. How stupid I was. How naive. How immature. Callow. Idiotic. Ignorant. How clueless and unaware I had been about my own selfishness.

I was so self-absorbed I didn't realize the damage I could do.

I felt a pang of unease. The bruises...the broken bones...they were my fault, no one else's. Sick images swam in my head and continued to come at me relentlessly.

I could still feel a hefty weight on my chest as if there was something constricting my heart from healing from the lashes that were constantly being engraved on my shackled and worn body. She was so close to death, so close to not living. Her heart...my heart was on the verge of never beating again.

The constant drone of the machines continued to echo through my psyche as the evening street lights cast shadows through the hospital room.

After a few days of staring at her lovely face, her eyes began to flutter open.