The Greatest Mind I Ever Knew

Chapter 39: Torture And Peace

'Oh, bambina.' a familiar voice said. My hearing was muffled.
               When my head lifted I saw a nurse standing in front of me, outstretching a box of Lotan's belongings towards me. My dad's arms accepted it. Mine couldn't move.
               The next time I blinked I was being hugged. Then I wiped my eyes and I was walking through a hospital.
               With slow blinks and a lump in my throat, I squinted to look around me. Everything was white: the walls, the busy people in coats, the ringing phones and reception desk - even the t-shirt I was wearing. It was one of Lotan's. Across the chest in curly black letters it said, 'EIFFEL IN LOVE WITH YOU'. I'd thought it was funny when I saw it in a gift shop on our honeymoon, so I'd bought it for Lotan as a surprise. He'd only worn it once or twice, but his smell lingered in it.
               I smiled, then remembered I was in a hospital again. Then I remembered why I was in a hospital, and my lids instantly shut tight. Sudden, excruciating pain flooded every vein of mine like acid, burning my limbs and face and fingers and heart. The spit in my mouth turned to bile when I felt Dad put a gentle hand on my back.
'Come on, bambina.' he whispered. 'Keep going. We're nearly outside.'
'Where is he?' I croaked, wiping my nose on my sleeve. Dad raised an eyebrow at me.
'Sorry?'
'Where's my husband?' I tried again, scanning the corridor with erratic eyes. 'Where have they put him? Where?' I began to feel very flustered and hot. 'Dad, where is he!?'
'Olivia, bambina, it's alright.' he said, his own face as sad as I'd ever seen it. 'He's not far away. They're moving him to the mortuary -'
               A sob from my lips interrupted my father. He moved to put an arm around me but over his shoulder I glimpsed Lotan's hospital room door open, and two nurses began wheeling a bed out of it. The body upon it was covered with a sheet. I sobbed again and instantly ran towards them, shrieking,
'No, no, wait! He's not dead! Wait, please!' I stopped the bed and cried, 'He's not dead! Don't take him away! He's not -'
               But when I pulled the sheet back I halted, and stared.
               There lay my Lotan. Only he wasn't my Lotan anymore. His face was grey and his eyes were lifeless and his mouth was slack.
               'Oh, God, no.' my lips moaned, but my brain wasn't hearing a thing anymore. 'No no no no, no. No, Lotan, no. Wake up, my love. Wake up, baby! Please, God, wake him up! Lotan! LOTAN!'
               While I sobbed and stared, the image of my ashy, cold husband burning into my memory, the nurses covered his face again and continued taking him away from me. I tried to follow them - I think I was screaming loudly again now, - but Dad hugged me tightly on the spot and murmured into my ear,
'Don't, bambina, don't, please. He's gone. He's... He's gone.'
'No.' my agonised voice croaked. 'No, NO, NO!'

I remember my dad holding me there until I exhausted myself. I remember him leading me out of the hospital while a hundred reporters tried to take photos of me, and demanded to know what had happened. I remember the police holding them back, and Dad's jacket covering my head. I remember climbing into his car and weeping in the passenger seat.

'Is he really gone?' I asked him almost silently, maybe an hour later, through the knees I'd pulled up to my head.
               I'd never felt pain like this in my life: not when I broke my toes, not when I was depressed, not even when I'd given birth. This was raw, intense, agony. Inside and out, agony. My skin stung to the touch, my senses were heightened to the point where every little noise or light around me felt like sellotape sticking onto and ripping off a gaping wound in my chest. And through all of it I could only see Lotan's lifeless, grey face in my mind, haunting me cruelly.
               My father exhaled, kept his eyes on his steering wheel, and said,
'I'm so sorry, Olivia. I'm so, so sorry. You didn't deserve this. I, I-I, I'm just so sorry.'
               My eyes squeezed shut again. The sun was rising behind us, but I didn't want it to. I couldn't bear to live a single day without my lovely, perfect Lotan by my side. I couldn't bear to let the world to keep turning if he wasn't living in it with me anymore. I wanted the entire planet to burn up, starting with this car. But it didn't, so eventually I mumbled,
'I want to go home.'
               Dad sighed beside me.
'I, I think you'd better come inside with me for now, Olivia. You shouldn't be alone at a time like this.'
               For the first time I looked out of the car window and spotted my childhood home standing tall before the car. It looked clean and lived-in and happy. It made me sick.
'No.' I shook my head. 'Lotan bought me a home. It's where he wanted me to be.'
               My father was quiet for a moment, probably wondering how stubborn I was feeling right then. Soon he murmured,
'Your mum's inside, Olivia. She can help you. She understands how you're feeling, and she loves you -'
'Don't talk to me about Mum.' I snapped quickly, my voice brewing fury. 'She was supposed to help Lotan get better, and now he's dead. I don't want to see her. I don't want to think about her. I don't want her near me or my son, ever again.'
'My son.' my thoughts echoed slowly. 'My son. Mamma Mia, where is my son!?'
               Dad didn't have time to be offended by my harsh comment because suddenly I was crying, 'Oh, Joshua! Oh, my little bambino! We have a child, Lotan! We have a child! Oh, Joshua! I can't raise him on my own! Oh, Mamma Mia, please, give me strength!'
               My dad pulled me into a tight hug when he heard my cries, but there was no comfort for me in that. There was no comfort for me in anything. My husband was dead. My child was fatherless. My life was ruined.