Tracking Logan Foster

{23} Terrible Things

Although in a thoroughly deep sleep, the pain induced groan was enough to alert my ears into high awareness, jolting my body into action.

My eyes flashed open, immediately attempting to adapt to the darkness of the bedroom where my husband and I had been sleeping.

"Iris..." Logan muttered, clenching his jaw as tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. Beads of sweat perspired on his forehead where veins protruded outwards, and his breathing was labored, coming out in small huffs of air between his teeth.

"Oh God, Logan, are you alright?" I asked, blindly reaching out to shove the damp bangs off his forehead as if that would ease the pain somehow.

My stomach twisted in knots as I flicked on the lights, causing him to grunt.

"I...my head...hurts," he forced out. I scrambled out of bed, snatched my cell phone off the bedside table, and pressed on the emergency call button. 

"9-1-1, what is your-"

I didn't give the woman on the other line the chance to finish her sentence before I bursted out, "My husband! I-I don't--his head is bad-badly hurting."

Unconsciously opening the drawer on the beside table, I grabbed the only item inside and tucked it in the pocket of my pants.

I knew I was hardly making any sense at all as my mind was already preoccupied with Logan's issue. Any coherent thought was thrown out the window along with my common sense.

"Okay, ma'am, please calm down-"

For some reason, her command ignited a furious anger in my veins and my blood boiled. How dare she tell me to calm down!

I was behaving irrationally and it wasn't until Logan's gentle hand dropped on my arm did I realize how crazy I must have seemed.

I took a deep breath and begged the first responder. "Please," I cried, "Please send help now."

She told me to stay on the line, instructing me to keep Logan conscious when I could clearly see he was fighting a losing battle.

By now, his breaths were far more infrequent and the sheets were soaked beneath him as slight tremors coursed through his body.

The woman incessantly buzzed in my ear, telling me to inform her on what was happening when I couldn't concentrate long enough to provide her with a sufficient explanation.

In seemingly hours later, the paramedics finally arrived, but they were too late. Logan had gone ghostly pale seconds before passing out at least ten minutes prior while I sat in the bed beside him.

A police offer spoke to me in hopes of keeping my mind off of the situation as Logan was whisked away on a stretcher into an ambulance awaiting his arrival in the driveway.

A faint cry echoed in the hallway where I stood, nails frayed to the nubs. I wildly shot a look down the corridor.

Heath.

The police officer was hot on my heels until I had reached my baby's room. Scooping him up in my arms, I buried his face in my neck as I breathed in his familiar scent, rocking him up and down.