The Bachelor's Bride

Chapter 8- Jack

WARNING- THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT TO BE VERY EMOTIONALLY DISTRESSING.

I typed out the last sentence of a fresh newspaper story, leaning back in my chair, satisfied with my work.  My boss, Mr. Larson, walked by scooping up the freshly typed story from my desk, "You finally finished, Muller?"

"Yes sir." I said proudly.

Mr Larson frowned, scanning over the contents, "What story is this?"

"The one about Labor Unions in the..." I began explaining.

He tossed the paper aside, "Nobody wants a story like that!  We need something exciting and fresh! Labor Unions are boring and old news!"

I groaned, disappointed that I would be starting back at the very beginning after days and hours of hard work, "But sir, this is still important!"

But he was already gone.  My co-worker James looked over at me, smiling, "Don't mind Mr. Larson. He gets into moods sometimes where every story has to be as great as the New York Times."

"How does he expect me to crank out another story by the deadline?!" I groaned, running my fingers through my hair.

"Well, you could write about that one factory fire that happened about an hour ago. If you hurry, I'm sure you could catch some statements from some of the victims before the other reporters get there," James said, getting back to his own story.

"Factory fire?" I asked, thinking this could definitely be a good story and I could possibly get it finished before the deadline.

"Yeah, the one up near South 21 Street?" James offered, writing the address.

I froze, my muscles going stiff.  He offered me the paper with the address on it, but I already knew which factory that was.  I took off sprinting from the office, shoving past surprised looking employees who tried to shuffle to the side as I leapt down the stairs.

South 21 Street was the address of the factory where Etta worked.  That thought in itself made my insides twist into a horrendous mess.  I could feel the terror working its way up my throat, paralyzing my muscles.  But somehow, I kept running because I could only think of Etta.  I couldn't bear the thought if she didn't make it out alive.  

I shook my head.  She had to be okay.

................................................................................

When I reached the factory, the entire building was in ruins.  The sight mixed with the putrid stench of burnt bodies was terrible.  Firemen were still working to put out the remains of the fire and stop it from spreading.  All around were the bodies of young women who had clearly jumped and not made it.  I felt sick, looking at them.  One of those bodies could be Etta.

"Sir, I need you to stay back." A policeman rested a beefy hand on my shoulder, his mustache twitching from the smoke irritating his nose.

"My wife works there." I explained, feeling panic work it's way up my chest, spreading through the rest of my body. "My wife..."

"Son, I understand, but we can't let anyone near there. It's dangerous." He explained, pity in his gaze.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.  I needed to pull myself together so I could find Etta.  I nodded, "I understand, sir.  But I need to find her."

"If she made it out of there, she would have been taken to the closest hospital near here." he explained. "It's about a block away, just down that road.  It will be on the left."

I took off in that direction sending a mumbled "Thank you" over my shoulder.

When I reached the hospital, I immediately went to the front desk, "Do you have an Etta Muller here?"

The nurse glanced wearily at me, "Sir, you are going to have to take a seat. There were others here before you."

I wanted to argue back. I wanted to demand that she let me see my wife.  Instead, I turned on my heel and sank into a chair, resting my head in my hands.  It seemed like hours before that same nurse finally called me over.  I practically ran to the desk, "Yes?"

"You had inquired after an Etta Muller..."

"My wife." I said.

"Yes." she said, flipping through the directory and registration. "Etta Muller. Room 202. She's on the second floor."

My shoulders sank with relief. She was alive.  I turned from the desk and ran up the steps to the second floor.  I stopped at Room 202, holding my breath as I eased the door open.  Etta lay there, peacefully sleeping.  

I hurried to her bedside, taking her hand in mine, "Oh, Etta."

Her face and neck were red where the flames had licked at her delicate skin.  Her arms were the most damaged and had been wrapped in bandages.  A small tear slipped from my eye at the thought of what she had just endured.  I gently kissed her finger tips before nuzzling my head against her side.

A few hours later, I woke up to Etta jerking awake.  She grabbed my arm, her mouth shaped in the form of a scream.  But i couldn't hear any sound coming from her.  She breathed out a heavy breath, her chest moving up in down as she tried to settle her sudden panic.

I brushed my hand carefully over her forehead, brushing away her hair, "Etta, how do you feel?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but stopped and grabbed her throat.  She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes.  She swallowed harshly and shook her head again.

"Does your throat hurt?" I asked gently.

She nodded.  She gripped my arm in panic.

She couldn't speak.

Copyright © 2017 by Rosanna Parker

All Rights Reserved

So what do you think about Etta being a mute now? And what about her and Jack's relationship? Do you think this is going to bring them closer together? ;) 

I'm actually pretty happy with how well this story is going! I'm not really struggling with the plot and I'm enjoying getting to write it, so that must mean it's good, right? I hope so! Also, it would totally help if you would vote, comment, and share! I always appreciate it!

-Rosanna