The past hits

Unconscious

Derek walked into Meredith's house the next morning, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd tried calling her multiple times, but there was no answer. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. When he stepped into the quiet house, the silence seemed suffocating.

"Meredith?" he called softly, moving through the living room and then down the hallway. No response.

His stomach twisted with anxiety as he reached the bedroom, his pulse quickening. Still nothing. He turned, hearing a faint noise from upstairs, and rushed toward it, climbing the stairs two at a time.

"Hi, Ellie," Derek said, forcing a smile, though his mind was racing. Where is Meredith?

Ellie smiled back at him. She gave him a hesitant wave, more interested in her toys than the stranger in the doorway.

"Ellie, sweetie, where's your Mommy?" Derek asked, crouching down. His voice cracked, but he kept it steady.

The little girl pointed toward the hallway, her words slurred with innocence. "Mommy went... down."

Derek's heart dropped. He thanked Ellie softly, standing up and moving quickly toward the hallway. But when he reached the door of Meredith's bedroom, his breath hitched in his throat.

There she was. Meredith. Lying unconscious on the floor, her face pale and blood trickling from a gash on her forehead. The blade was dangerously close to her limp hand. His heart slammed against his ribs, and for a moment, he froze.

"Meredith!" Derek shouted, rushing to her side. He felt for her pulse, desperate, his hands trembling as he checked for any sign of life. A weak thrum beneath her skin. She was alive—but barely. His mind went into a blur of panic.

He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing 911. His voice was shaking as he spoke to the dispatcher, giving details of Meredith's condition.

Hanging up, he looked down at the blood that had soaked into the carpet, the reality of the situation crashing over him. He gently cradled Meredith's head in his hands, trying to keep her conscious, but her eyelids fluttered and then fell closed. "Meredith, stay with me," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He couldn't lose her now.

He pulled himself together, his mind frantically racing for solutions. Ellie. I need to get her away from this.

Derek ran back downstairs, trying to steady himself. Ellie was still sitting in the same spot, unaware of the gravity of the situation. Derek quickly scooped her up, cradling her close to him. She was small, light in his arms, but it was a fragile weight, a reminder of everything he could lose.

"Sweetheart, I need you to stay calm, okay?" Derek murmured, doing his best to keep his voice gentle for the toddler. He didn't want her to feel the panic he felt rising in his chest. Ellie's little face scrunched up in confusion, her small hands tugging at his shirt.

"Mommy?" Ellie asked in a small voice, eyes wide with worry.

"Mommy is going to be okay, but we need to wait for help, alright?" Derek said, trying to reassure her, though his own voice quivered. He held her tightly, rocking her slowly in his arms as he glanced toward the front door. The ambulance was on its way, but until then, he had to stay calm—for both of them.

The sound of sirens wailed in the distance. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He needed Meredith to pull through. He didn't know if they could ever be together, but he knew he couldn't walk away from her now—not after everything.

Derek sat on the couch with Ellie, who had nestled into his side, her small hand resting on his chest. She wasn't scared anymore, lulled by his presence. But Derek was terrified—terrified that, by the time the paramedics arrived, it might be too late.

He kept his focus on the sound of the ambulance growing louder, his thoughts turning to the woman upstairs. Meredith had given him a second chance before, but could she forgive him for this? For all the time he had wasted?