Zelus (Perseus Reimagined) (BXB)

Chapter 40

Belinda Troy

2016

 THE AMBULANCE ARRIVED AT THE scene minutes after Alex took his final breath. I watched as they lifted him onto the gurney, placing an oxygen mask over his nose and preparing the defibrillator in hopes of getting a second chance. The vehicle sped beyond the limits, as it should. I stayed by his side, witnessing the response of his chest to the machine, my hands gripping the bars of the gurney, begging his eyes to open.

They didn't.

...

His body was connected to the heart rate monitors in the ICU room, but the lines stayed firm, and the sound rang in my ears. They performed the necessary procedures and removed the bullet from his chest. And I invited myself out as they prepared to do more.

I'm not used to seeing that much blood on him, and I never want to.

I plopped down next to the ICU room and held my knees close to my chest, keeping myself from falling apart even further. I pry down to my blood-stained hands, mud and dirt on my clothes, how I smelled sweat and blood, and the minor cuts on my arm from when I slipped on the road.

I felt numb even when there was a massive wound on my forehead. Probably the only major cut, as it's still bleeding down to my cheeks. I could feel the prick as my hair brushed upon it, but I couldn't care enough to help it. Although I was staring at the ground, I felt the eyes of many patients and nurses on me as they strode past. Some even took pity on my appearance.

A nurse appeared next to me, resting on her knees as she placed many medicine bottles and cotton balls at her side. I had no energy to meet her eyes. A navy-blue scrub is what she wore, and there's a golden anklet surrounding her left ankle with a miniature Saturn pendant on it.

"This is going to hurt. Please bear with me," her accent is thick, which tells me English isn't her first language. She uncaps one of the bottles and dampens a single cotton ball with it as she reaches for the wound on my forehead. She's right; it hurt so badly that my nails dug into my palms.

My eyes welled up, and the lump in my throat exploded, causing me to break down, and I couldn't stop. I screamed, definitely attracting more attention than I already had. The nurse didn't consult me to stop. Instead, she pulled me into her arms and laid my head on her chest.

My tongue felt heavy in my mouth, and my brain was already shut down.

"God, if you're listening, give him back to me!"

...

Another day has come. I hadn't showered or changed my clothes. Even if I had a chance to, I'd need energy to even fasten my arms into the sleeves of the t-shirt. Though at this moment, I'm running low on it. I believe a strong gust of wind could knock me down.

The doctors kept Alex in the ICU for further inspection, and I'm being detained as a suspect who caused his murder. The cops arrived at the hospital around two in the morning when everyone, including me, had settled down. The nurse—her name is Zoe—patched my wounds and lend me a shoulder before she clocked out. A senior cop and perhaps her junior approached me, throwing a bunch of questions I had no energy to answer.

In the end, the male cop, who seemed to be in his twenties, lifted me on his back and sat me down in the vehicle's back seat. The journey took about half an hour before we arrived at the station. They kept me in the waiting room with two other officers guarding the exit.

I lost all strength to keep my eyes open and drifted to sleep, hoping I would not see the light of day again.

But I did.