Keeping the Bad Boy

Chapter 37

He didn't scream when he fell through, nor did he grab my hand when I offered it. I'd like to believe that he didn't simply give up. I'd like to believe he put up a fight, but as I hold his cold, limp hand in that ambulance, I think differently. His lips are purple, his skin as white as paper, his veins a bold, blue contrast against it. They continue CPR with no luck. They gave him an equivalent to mouth-to-mouth, but couldn't get him to cough up the water. The vehicle stops and they pull him out and I climb out after them. I follow them, holding his hand the whole time. They hook him up to various machines and insert a tube into his chest to drain the water. I watch it as it trickles out into a container. After they decide that all the water has drained, they begin to shock him in an attempt to restart his heart. His wet shirt and jacket are lying on the floor, water splattered out around them. I watch as his body bucks off the hospital bed with each spark of electricity. His wet hair is turning the white pillow case clear and his leather boots are soggy and dripping onto the floor. The doctor looks at me with sad eyes. "This is the last one. If he doesn't wake up then..." he trails off. I nod and so does he. I take a deep breath close my eyes. I hear Sam's body slam against the bed then a gasp. I open my eyes and see Sam shoot up, his arms flailing. His bright eyes find me and his strong arms wrap around me. I hold his cold, wet, shaking body in my arms and mouth thank you to the doctor. He nods and smiles. I close my eyes and hold Sam tighter. I hear the door open then close and open my eyes to see a lone nurse standing by the door. She was tiny with short dyed blue hair. "I'll come back later," she says and shuffles out the door. As soon as she leaves, Sam lets out a sob. I pull back so I can see his face. Tears run down his cheeks and his eyes are burning brighter than ever. I've never seen him so open. So vulnerable. His hands were tight on my arms, scared to let me go. I had never seen him cry up close and now I realized how beautiful he was when he cried. I knew that crying was such a rare emotion for him and that only made it that much more beautiful. His lips trembled, his breaths were shallow and shaky, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. His body shook violently. He looked like a broken angel. "I love you," he managed to say through sobs. "I- I love you too," I say with a gulp. I can only imagine what he was going through. I will never know if he truly died that day and I can only imagine what he saw-if he saw anything-while he was unconscious. I just hope and pray it wasn't something terrible. I hope. . .