After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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Beau and I reach the hospital in mere minutes.
I exit the vehicle the second Beau comes to a stop and run through the parking lot without bothering to look both ways, bursting through the hospital doors and meeting Tyler in the waiting room. He nods in greeting, guiding me down the corridor wordlessly. He does not look well. His hair is unkempt and his face has not been shaved in days, evident due to the dark stubble lining his chin. He is thin and pale and appears as shaky as I feel.
When we finally stop walking, we have come to a halt by an unmarked door. I eye the space curiously, though ask for no explanation as to where we are and Tyler doesn't offer one. Instead, Tyler merely opens the door for me in silence and I enter into what appears to be an office. Inside, the room is brightly lit and decorated in vivid colors. Needless to say, the interior does not match the mood drifting throughout the room, which is all heavy and grim and black.
I meet Mrs. Hartley's gaze the instant I step through the threshold. I search her expression for any sign of good news as I eye her, though come up empty handed. My stomach twists into knots. Mrs. Hartley soon walks up to me and pulls me into a hug that is so impossibly tight I almost can't breathe. But I do not mind, because I know when she looks at me she does not see me. She sees her daughter, or the closest thing she can get to her. So I let her hold me and sob into the crook of my neck and try to comfort her the best I can despite the fact that I feel pretty broken myself.
Mr. Hartley nods my way in greeting once I catch his stare, though keeps his eyes downcast. I suppose it is hard for him to look at me because I am just as certain he does not see me, the same as his wife. He sees her.
The doctor sitting behind the desk that is placed in the middle of the room is the same woman we spoke to the last time I was here. Her features are devoid of the placid hopefulness I had last seen her carry, now replaced by tight lips and worry lines.
"I would like to start off by saying I am profusely sorry," the doctor begins. Despite having not a clue what she will say next, her introductory statement already sounds crushing. Mrs. Hartley grasps my hand in hers as she falls into the vacant seat opposite the desk as if she has lost the strength to stand, crushing the bones of my fingers in her clasp. I do not mind. The pain allows me to feel something.
"I am not entirely sure how this went undetected once the surgery was completed," the doctor continues. I do not like how calculated and carefully the doctor speaks, as if her lips are the trigger of a weapon that is about to deliver a sharp, deathly bullet. "But it has come to our attention that Haven is experiencing a subdural hematoma, which essentially means blood has been surfacing between her skull and brain. While this is treatable, it has caused Haven to suffer a few seizures, which we fear has resulted in what we call a postoperative coma. We have already rushed her into emergency surgery and will be keeping her in the ICU to make sure she does not experience any further seizures."
