Fear

53 • Healing hearts

The sterile, white walls of the hospital waiting room felt like they were closing in on me. I paced back and forth, unable to sit still, my body shaking in pain and fear. The squeak of my shoes on the linoleum floor was the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. Every second felt like torture.

I clutched my phone, the screen dark and lifeless. It felt heavy in my hand, a cruel reminder of the messages X had sent.

My mind was a whirlpool of guilt and fear. I couldn't shake the image of her frail body crumpled on the ground, the blood pooling beneath her, the life draining from her eyes.

The waiting room was empty except for me. The silence was unbearable, amplifying every anxious thought in my mind. I felt like I was suffocating. I ran a hand through my hair and paused to stare at the clock on the wall.

At times, I would stop pacing, crumple against the wall, and let the tears flow. They would subside only for the anxiety to take over again, forcing me back to pacing.

The clock seemed to mock me with its slow, deliberate ticks. I glanced at it repeatedly, hoping for some sort of news, any news, that would bring relief.

Finally, after hours of waiting, the door to the waiting room creaked open, and a doctor stepped in.

She looked tired but compassionate, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of empathy and professionalism.

"Mr. Hemsworth?" she asked.

I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yes. H-how is she?"

The doctor took a deep breath. "She's stable for now. She lost a lot of blood, and her condition is critical, but we've managed to stop the bleeding. She's very weak. She sustained multiple injuries."

The relief that washed over me was overwhelming, but it was tinged with lingering fear. "Can I see her?"

The doctor nodded. "She's being moved to a private room. You can see her once she's settled in. But please, try not to stress her. She needs rest."

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. The doctor gave a small nod and left the room.

I sank into a chair, my legs finally giving out from the emotional strain. Tears flowed freely as the relief of knowing she was stable mixed with the fear of the unknown. I whispered to myself, clinging to those words like a lifeline. "You're going to be okay, baby."

-

The walk to Emily's room felt like a dream, each step echoing with a mixture of dread and anticipation. When I finally reached the door, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the handle. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and stepped inside.

Emily lay in the hospital bed, her face pale and badly bruised, her body connected to various machines and IVs. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She looked so fragile, so unlike the vibrant woman I loved.

"Emily," I whispered, my voice breaking as I approached her bedside. I took her hand in mine, careful not to disturb the IV. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. "Ty," she murmured, her voice weak.

"I'm so sorry," I choked out, tears streaming down my face. "I should have been there sooner. I should have protected you."

She squeezed my hand weakly, her eyes filled with a deep, unspoken understanding.

I leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for you. Always."

She nodded slightly, her eyes closing again as she drifted back into a restless sleep. I sat by her side, holding her hand, my heart aching for all that we'd lost and for the uncertain road ahead. But in that moment, I knew we would face it together. No matter what.

-

I sat by Emily's bedside, my head buried in the mattress as the thin duvet absorbed my tears. The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beeping of machines monitoring her condition. She lay there, still and pale. The trauma of what she endured haunted me. My hand clutched hers tightly, seeking solace in the warmth of her touch.

We hadn't even known she was pregnant. The news of the miscarriage hit us like a high speed train. The pain was unbearable, not just the loss of our baby, but the agony of seeing Emily suffer, knowing I couldn't protect her from the horrors inflicted upon her.

I'd been there day and night for weeks, barely sleeping, my mind consumed by guilt and sorrow. I replayed every moment, every decision that led us here.

The events of the past year weighed heavily on me. That night I kidnapped her from the nightclub, the fear and confusion in her eyes, the torture I inflicted upon her, the pointless Acts, and all the times I pushed her away to protect her, thinking I was doing the right thing.

I remembered meeting her in D2, falling for her beauty and her hazel eyes but trying to hide it.

I remembered slicing her arm open without mercy in her second Act, and the guilt I felt afterwards. Then I punished myself for feeling it.

I remembered what happened in the Slaughter and my immediate reaction to hearing Kai had r*ped her. I immediately shot him dead. Then I punched a hole in my wall because I was the one who sent her to the Slaughter. I hated myself for that. She didn't deserve what he did to her.

I remembered the confrontation in my office when I told her she was listening to that manipulative voice in her head. I remembered the feeling of her soft lips on mine, how much I desperately wanted to feel it again, yet feared what it meant. How I denied and denied and denied that I liked her until I couldn't anymore. And then I punished myself again.

I remembered everything.

I remembered falling for her, falling in love.

-

As I sat there, I felt a mix of emotions-guilt for the pain I caused her, sadness for our loss, shame for my past actions, and self-hatred for failing to keep her safe. Emily deserved better than this, better than me.

But amidst the darkness, a glimmer of hope flickered. Emily's condition was finally stabilising. The doctors said she would recover physically, though the emotional scars would take time.

One day, I looked up from my tear-stained vigil to find Emily awake, her eyes more alert than they had been in weeks. Relief flooded through me as I squeezed her hand.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"Hey," she replied softly, her voice fragile but filled with a determination I hadn't heard in a while.

We talked for hours, about everything. We discussed the miscarriage, shared our grief and sorrow, and found solace in each other's arms.

Emily spoke of her nightmares, of the darkness that haunted her, and I listened in despair, holding her close.

And then we talked about X - the nightmare that finally ended when Ghost's bullet found its mark. We vowed to put it all behind us, to move forward together, stronger than before.

As the sun set outside the hospital window, casting a warm glow over us, we dared to look towards our future. Uncertain, yes, but filled with hope. We would heal together, we would rebuild our lives.

I kissed her forehead gently, feeling her warmth against my lips. She smiled weakly, but it reached her eyes - the same eyes that captured my heart the moment I first saw her.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion.

"I love you too, Ty," she replied, her voice steady, filled with a quiet strength that inspired me.

And as we held each other in that hospital room, surrounded by the quiet hum of machines and the faint scent of antiseptic, I knew that no matter what lay ahead, as long as we were together, we could face anything.

-