Book Three - Fighting For You

Chapter 8

^^Dedicated to @elisa_angel for giving me a kick up the butt! ;)

Hello! Huge apologies for the delay. It's a combination of work, being unwell and slight writers block. Here is the next chapter though. I hope you enjoy.

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When I finally leave the hospital with Simon, my whole body feels like lead. It’s only ten at night but it feels so much later. All I want to do is go home and cuddle up to Sam. Of course I can’t do that, can I? He’s fighting for his life in hospital because of some idiot.

As Simon drives home, I mind my own business by staring out the window. I don’t pay any attention to what’s happening outside. All I can do is think about Sam. Tears slide down my cheeks but I don’t bother wiping them away. I miss him so much. What if something bad happens? What if he really does die? How on earth will I cope without him? He’s everything to me, I can’t live without him.

When a hand squeezes mine, I look across at Simon who gives me a tight smile. He’s trying to be supportive and caring but I can see he’s struggling. Sam is his best mate, it’s not just me that’s suffering here.

This is like a wakeup call and I offer a small smile back. Yes this is hard for me but I can’t be selfish. I have to remember everyone else is finding it hard to cope too. The attack was so random, so sudden.

“It will all be okay,” Simon says softly then he removes his hand and places it back on the steering wheel.

I stare at him and look at the expression in his eyes. He’s worried and I can tell he doesn’t believe what he just said. I don’t know if I do either. That’s why I suddenly find myself asking, “What if it’s not, Simon? What if Sam doesn’t pull out of this?”

Tension fills the car and Simon suddenly sits up rigidly in the seat. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so straight forward but I can’t help it. I’d rather fear the worst and be surprised when it doesn’t happen.

“Don’t say that, Emily,” Simon says coldly. He never calls me Emily unless he’s annoyed.

“Why not?” I argue back. Now is not the time to be arguing but I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m so worked up I need to vent. “We can’t bury our heads in the sand. We have to face the facts that he might not make it.”

Suddenly the car swerves then the tires squeal to a stop on the side of the road. My heart leaps in my chest and I’m holding onto the seat for dear life. I stare at Simon with wide eyes, breathing heavily. “What the hell?” I demand. “Are you trying to kill us too?”

He turns in his seat to glare at me. His eyes are dark and angry. “Just stop it, Emily! I don’t want to hear your negative talk!”

“I’m not being negative! I’m being realistic, Simon. He’s going to die why can’t you accept that?”

The moment the words leave my mouth I break down in tears. I can’t believe I just said that. A heavy silence falls upon us and I stare out the front window, tears streaming down my cheeks, desperate to ignore Simon’s expression. It’s only now I realise it’s raining. How ironic. Why does it always rain when something terrible is happening?

Heavy drops land on the window and slide down one after the other. It’s like they’re in a race to the finish line. The pounding of it on the roof sounds like the hammering of my own heart. I suddenly feel cold and empty. Oh god, ishe going to die? Is that why I said it? Is my subconscious mind preparing me for the worst?

Sam and I have always had a connection. We’ve always been able to understand what the other person is thinking. Even with him in a coma, that connection is still there. I have a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. It’s so bad I feel sick. I just hope like hell my subconscious is wrong. Perhaps this feeling of dread is just brought about by stress. It will be okay…won’t it? It has to be.