The Curves Ahead - Wattpad Award Winner

Chapter 23

"If you touch me again, I'll have you charged with assault."

I spoke in a neutral tone, but I was serious. The middle-aged nurse stood in front of me, her eyes pained. "But, Ms Moore, we really need to get you down to the emergency ward."

I shifted away from her, and resumed my vigil staring through the window of the hospital room where they'd placed Heather. "No. Leave. I'm not going anywhere."

She fluttered anxiously and shot a glance at the orderly next to her, unsure of what to do with their handfuls of gauze and disinfectant. The corridor was quiet; they'd obviously taken care to keep Heather somewhere away from the main population of the hospital, assuming that I'd go to the ER. The fact that I hadn't was freaking everyone out.

I drew myself up against the wall, defiant. I couldn't quite stand on my own and I couldn't stop the shaking of my limbs - or the blood pooling around my feet. I couldn't convince the staff to allow me to wait in the room because I wasn't family. I couldn't change the fact that the most beautiful and vibrant woman I'd ever had the honour of knowing was lying dead five feet from where I stood. But I could control one thing; I wouldn't leave her until Andie arrived.

In a haze, I focused on the form covered by a sheet on the bed. I might have been acting fierce, but I was in pieces. Shock protected me like a bubble, trying to persuade my brain that everything since we'd left Kaivalya had been a mistake, a typo, and any minute now I'd open my eyes and find myself at the airport, hugging Heather and waving her onto a plane.

Not this. This is too horrible to be real. Scalding guilt ran through me, more agonising than the dull ache in my shoulder or the searing along my cheek. I dug my fingertips into the window sill, noticing absently how they were still coated in Heather's blood; I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to wash my hands again without seeing them streaked in the scarlet stains, such a close colour to her hair.

Something fresh and wet touched my chest and I glanced down to see tears dripping onto my filthy cleavage. I hadn't even realised I was crying. Blocking out everything, I laid my bleeding head on the window, leaving a smear on the glass.

It could have been five minutes or an hour later; a warm hand closed over my icy one. A voice spoke, strong, but filled with loving anxiety. "Evianna."

"I'm not leaving her, Matt." I didn't turn to look at him, indifferent to the fact that he'd come. I was beyond any comfort; whether I stood there alone or stood there with a team of supporters, it made no difference.

"Evianna, the doctors are worried about you." He moved in front of me, trying to capture my eyes. "They think your collarbone is broken, and you need a CT for your head in case you've got swelling or bleeding in your brain."

"I don't care."

I expected him to pull a typical macho move, forcing me to submit to care, perhaps even bodily moving me. I didn't expect his gentle touch on my cheek and empathetic tone. "I know you want to wait for Andie. I'll wait with you, right here. But will you let them at least stitch the cut on your face closed? We can bring a bed over, you don't have to move."

I might have held out longer if my legs hadn't given way; they buckled under me, as if they wanted the support. Matt caught me, pressing the line of his body forward to brace mine as it toppled back. "I've got you, Evianna. I'm right here."

And with his words echoing mine to Heather, I broke. I wept, collapsing heavily, and he held me as swift hands moved a bed behind us and I was gently laid to the starchy hospital sheets.

The staff hovered around me like ghosts, silent and white. The tears continued to flow, like my body was trying to purge itself of the black grief, only as much as I forced out, more was being produced. Matt knelt beside me, holding my hand and murmuring comfort, but I was barely aware of any of it.