Waiting

This is it

"Nick you need to get down here now," I hear Michelle practically shout down the phone at me and I know it's urgent.

She's at the hospital with Carla and I have no idea what it could be.

She sounded stressed, she sounded like something big had happened.

I couldn't tell whether it was good or not.

Who am I kidding? Of course it's not going to be good.

I can't lose her, not now.

Not when I've been waiting for six months, six whole months I've been sitting by her bedside praying she wakes up.

Now it could have all been for nothing.

After everything we've been through together, she might not even still be alive.

I might not even have time to tell her.

Just to tell her I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry for letting her down.

The car journey from the bistro to Weatherfield Hospital took around ten minutes in reality.

But for me, it felt like an eternity.

As I eventually manage to park my car in the incredibly busy car park outside the hospital, I start to sprint inside.

All I think about is her.

Carla.

I could go in there and she could be sitting up with her gorgeous smile and I could look into her beautiful emerald eyes and we could be us again. I would be whole again.

Or, I could go in there to find out that I'll never get her back. If I don't get her back, then I don't know what I'll do. She's my life. I can't imagine a life without her in it.

As I run past the front desk, I start to get nervous. It isn't far to her room from here. What if she is really gone? What then?

Suddenly, I stop as I notice where I am.

"Hospital room 724,"

This is it.

This is really it.