𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

εξήντατρία ; 63

song of the chapter:
PINK SKIES ; zach bryan

As they wheeled Margarita into the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic and the bright overhead lights surrounded Rafe like a fog. Everything felt surreal, a blur of white coats and urgent voices. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was Margarita lying on the stretcher, her pale face a haunting reminder of how fragile life could be.

"Get her into Trauma One!" a nurse shouted, and they rushed through the automatic doors, pushing Margarita into the bustling emergency room.

Rafe felt a sharp pain in his chest, like a vice tightening around his heart. He wanted to follow her, to be there as they treated her, but they quickly ushered him into a waiting area. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, making the shadows dance ominously on the walls. He paced back and forth, each second feeling like an eternity.

"Rafe!" Sarah's voice broke through his spiral of anxiety. She rushed into the waiting room, her eyes wide with worry. "I'm here. Traffic."

He stopped pacing, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I think she—" He choked on the words, unable to finish. "I think she knew, but I don't know anymore!"

Sarah's face paled, and she grasped his arm, her grip tightening as if trying to hold him together. "Oh my God. Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know." His voice cracked, and he felt the tears threaten to spill again. "They took her in, but I don't know how bad it is. She looked so cold, Sarah. So far away."

"Rafe, you need to breathe," she said gently, her eyes softening with concern. "You need to stay strong for her."

He nodded, but it felt like a weight pressing down on his chest. The minutes dragged on, and Rafe found himself lost in thought. He replayed the moment he found her, the fear gripping his heart, the way she had felt so small in his arms. He couldn't shake the image of her bloodied sleeves, the coldness of her skin.

"Rafe, look at me," Sarah said, pulling him from his thoughts. "We'll get through this. She's a fighter."

He wanted to believe her. "But what if... What if it's too late? What if she can't fight anymore?" The panic in his voice startled him, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

Just then, a doctor stepped into the waiting room, her face serious yet calm. Rafe's heart raced as he approached them.

"Are you family?" the doctor asked, her tone professional but kind.

"I'm her boyfriend," Rafe said, desperation threading through his words. "How is she?"

"We've stabilized her, but she's in critical condition. We need to keep her under observation. She had a significant loss of blood, and we're treating her for potential self-harm."

"Is she going to be okay?" Rafe asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor hesitated, glancing back toward the doors that led to the trauma bay. "We're doing everything we can. It's too soon to say anything for certain. But she's strong. We'll take good care of her."

Rafe felt a glimmer of hope mixed with despair. "Can I see her?"

"Not yet," the doctor replied gently. "We need to monitor her for a while longer. I'll come back with updates as soon as I can."

With that, she walked away, leaving Rafe and Sarah standing in the stark white waiting room. Rafe felt like the walls were closing in on him, the noise of the hospital buzzing in his ears.

"I can't just sit here," he said, pacing again. "I need to be with her."

"I know," Sarah said softly. "But right now, she needs the doctors. We have to trust them."

As the minutes ticked by, Rafe sat down, burying his face in his hands. The weight of the world pressed down on him, and he felt utterly helpless. He thought about all the times he had taken Margarita for granted, the moments he had thought she was invincible.

He remembered her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams. But now, those dreams felt so far away, as if they were fading with every passing second.

"I can't lose her," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't do this without her."

Sarah moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on his back. "You won't lose her. She needs you. You need to believe that."

Rafe nodded but couldn't shake the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. He wanted to be strong for Margarita, to show her that she wasn't alone in this fight. But how could he when he felt so utterly powerless?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor returned. Rafe stood up, anxiety coursing through him. "How is she?" he asked again, desperation in his eyes.

"She's stable for now," the doctor replied, her expression softer this time. "But we need to keep a close eye on her. We've started a treatment plan, and we'll monitor her closely."

Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. "Can I see her? Just for a moment?"

The doctor considered him for a moment before nodding. "Just for a few minutes. But remember, she's still unconscious."

Rafe's heart raced as he followed the doctor through the bustling hospital corridors, each step feeling heavier than the last. As they entered the dimly lit room, Rafe's breath caught in his throat.

Margarita lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines that beeped rhythmically, the sound echoing in his ears. Her skin looked even paler against the white sheets, and her hair spilled across the pillow like a dark halo. He felt a wave of emotions crash over him, tears welling up in his eyes as he approached her bedside.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered, taking her hand in his. It felt fragile, so different from the vibrant spirit he knew. "I'm here. I'm right here."

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his heart aching at the sight of her. "You're going to be okay. I promise. Just hold on for me. We're going to get through this together."

He leaned down, resting his forehead against her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. In that moment, he realized he would do anything to keep her safe, to fight for her even when she couldn't fight for herself.

The machines beeped steadily, and Rafe closed his eyes, whispering a silent prayer for her strength. "Please, Margarita. Come back to me."

--- end of chapter