SHARING EMMA [18+]

43. Look of Horror

|CARLOS|

The machines continued to beep.

No matter what hour of the day it was, they beeped, and beeped, and beeped.

Never getting tired. Never taking rest.

Believe it or not, that was also the most relieving sound to me these days. Anything else just felt like loud, meaningless noise—irritating.

I had hardly left the hospital room since the moment Emma was brought here.

The doctors said she was under the influence of drugs and that it would take time for them to wear off completely from her body. They called it toxins, the substance that was making her sicker and sicker and sicker.

Every day, I watched over her, sitting in that uncomfortable hospital chair that seemed to grow harder with each passing hour.

Her face, once vibrant and full of life, was now pale and drawn. The drugs had taken their toll, and I felt a gnawing helplessness deep within me as I held her cold, fragile hand.

I was so mad at myself for what happened.

Everything that happened. Everything that she had gone through, all because of my actions alone. I wished I wasn't so arrogant, so blinded by my power and wealth. I wished I had made different choices that wouldn't have led to this day.

I wished. I wished. I wished.

That's all I could do now. It was all that was in my control.

On the third day, she finally opened her eyes.

I felt like my whole world had suddenly righted itself.

"Emma!" I jumped out of my chair, leaning over her, desperate to make sure she heard me, could see me, and knew I was there for her, always and forever.

Her eyes fluttered, struggling to focus, and then they met mine. A faint, fragile smile curved on her lips—a look that looked much like relief, and her weak voice whispered, "Carl?"

I felt a rush of emotion, relief, and love so intense it was almost painful. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I held her hand gently, as if afraid she might vanish if I held too tight.

"I'm here, baby. I'm right here." I said, my voice choked with emotion.

Tears swarmed in her eyes, and she gasped, her chest rising and falling in short bursts of breaths. "You... you found me."

I nodded, unable to trust my voice to respond. I leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, my lips brushing against her skin like a whisper.

Emma's gaze remained fixed on me, a mix of gratitude and love in her eyes. She looked fragile, like a delicate porcelain doll that had been through a storm, but her strength, the same strength that had drawn me to her from the very beginning, shone through.

"Can you help me sit?" She mumbled. "My back hurts."

I nodded again, walking around the bed and pumping the lever until the head of the bed rose, placing her in a sitting position. I adjusted the pillow behind her, pulled a chair closer to her bed, and sat down.

She winced as she shifted, clearly in discomfort.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

Emma shook her head slightly, a shadow of a smile playing on her lips. "No. I'm okay now," she took a deep breath, rolling her head backward as if trying to soothe the stiff muscles around her neck. "I just don't feel like myself."

"It's going to be okay," I said, reaching out to hold her hand and squeezing it gently. "You're going to feel much better soon enough."

She fell silent for a while, staring at the blanket that covered her legs. Her mind was elsewhere.