Annabel's Point Of View
That next morning, Harry had taken me back to the hospital just as he promised. I had a restless sleep. Mostly dreaming of nightmares that usually involved my dad but somehow included my mother as well.
Each time I'd wake up though, Harry would be right there comforting me. He'd stay up and hold me until I fell back asleep. Until the shaking wore off and I fell back into darkness.
He took me to my house to change. I dressed warmly and comfortably in an old pair of dark wash jeans with a tan tank top and a brown oversized cardigan over it. A snug scarf hung around my neck and combat boots covered my feet. My hair was pulled up into a messy pony tail, not a speck of make-up on my face. My eyes were still puffy and red from the crying.
But I honestly didn't give a damn. The recent update on my mum was that she was still comatose. This was very disappointing.
All I wanted to do was run away. I wanted to leave this awful place. People always say how grateful you should be, but I just didn't even want to live at this point. If my mum dies, I'm nothing.
At the hospital, Harry stayed by my side the entire time. He soothed me. Rubbed my back and reassured me that everything would be okay. Not once did he pull out his phone, which meant he wasn't talking to Lyla. I know it sounds horrible, but this made me feel a little bit better.
My aunt Joan, my mum's closest sibling, finally arrived. Once she heard the news, she immediately flew in from Sydney, Australia, where she had been living the past eight years. She was finally here, which meant I could finally see my mom.
I had never been so happy to see her. I loved Aunt Joan, but she tended to be very, what's the word, dramatic? Not only that, but she was always only thinking of herself. But she was still my aunt, and I loved her.
"Annabel, darling. How are you?" she cooed softly, hugging me.
"I'm hanging in there," I sighed. "I really want to see her."
"Well, I think I can make that happen now," she smiled softly. It was forced, I could tell. It looked like she had had a pretty rough night as well, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. She, too, had been crying.
After conversing with the nurse for a few moment, Aunt Joan strolled back over to me.
"Come on, sweetie." she ushered, holding out her mom. I looked over at Harry who gave me a sympathetic smile.
I've never exactly been the religious type, or even the type to believe in spirits of ghosts or anything. But I was hoping that even though my mother was in a coma, maybe, possibly, she could hear me. She could hear me begging for her to stay and not to leave. Hear me telling her I'm not ready for her to leave just yet.
Walking into the ICU, I saw how it was shaped sort of in a circle. It was a big room with many beds making an oval shape. There were maybe six or seven other patients in there, but I went straight to my mother's bed.
She looked even worse than I imagined. Her face was badly bruised with one eye swollen and purple. She had a couple of stitches on her lip and above her eyebrow. Cords were everywhere, pumping different fluids inside of her. Her hands lay at her side and her chest slowly breathed up and down.
It was so weird. Her heart monitor read that she was indeed alive, but she felt so cold. I touched her fingers and it was like touching ice. I wrapped her hand in both of mine, kissing it. I didn't even try to hold back the tears.
"Mommy. Mum, if you can hear me.." I sobbed. "Please, don't leave me. You- You can't leave me yet. Please, mum. I-I need you." I said, putting my head gently against her arm.
"Oh, please." I begged. I sat there and just cried. I cried and cried and cried until there were no tears left. I continued to hold her hand in mine, mumbling over and over to stay with me. To not give up. Telling her that she can make it through.
Joan had recently came in telling me I had to leave the ICU soon. Said that I was only admitted a certain amount of time. Something about my germs harming the patients.
"I love you, Mum," I whispered to her. I wanted her so badly to just open her eyes. To tell me she loved me too. To tell me everything was going to be okay. I couldn't force myself to let go. I just wanted to hold on a little longer.
A few more tears escaped, and I knew it was time to go.
"I have to go now. But please, hang on a little longer, Momma. I need you." I said softly. I was finally about to release her hand when I felt it.
Maybe it was just me. Maybe it was all in my head. But it got stronger. A look of confusion grew across my face.
Did my mother just.. squeeze my hand?
I looked down to see something amazing. My mum was holding my hand back. Her fingers wrapped around mine tightly, as if telling me not to let go.
It took me a moment to fully register what had happened, but I found my voice and began to call for someone.
"Nurse! Nurse! Aunt Joan! Come quick!" I yelled, but not too loudly.
Two nurses along with a doctor came rushing in followed by my aunt.
"I think she's waking up!" I cried with joy. "Aunt Joan, she squeezed my hand! She squeezed my hand back!" I wailed.
Aunt Joan hugged me tightly.
"We're very sorry, but we need you to leave." one of the nurses said snottily. I didn't even care at this moment.
She was going to be okay. I knew she was going to make it.
Aunt Joan kept her arm tightly around mine and led me back into the waiting room where Harry, Emily, and Anne awaited. They each looked up at me questionably, with a glint of hope in their eyes.
"She's going to make it. My mum is going to live."
