Page 120 of The Tattoo Artist

“Alexandra!” I cry out, dropping to my knees beside her. I gather her into my arms, holding her close as if my embrace alone could shield her from the devastation around us. “Hey baby, hey baby wake up.” The back of her head was bleeding uncontrollably, I grab onto it. pressing my hand against her wound. “Baby, hey…come on, we’re fine…open you eyes.”

The hospital room is dimly lit, the soft glow of monitors casting shadows across the sterile walls. I sit beside Alexandra’s bedside, my gaze fixed on her still form as she lies motionless beneath the crisp white sheets. The steady beep of the heart monitor fills the room, a constant reminder of her fragile state.

I reach out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, my fingers lingering against her skin as I silently plead for her to wake up. The events of the accident replay in my mind, each moment etched into my memory with painful clarity. I should have been focused on the fucking road. I shouldn’t have looked away. I should have made sure she was wearing a seatbelt.

“Please, Alexandra,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath as I lean closer to her. “You have to wake up. I need you.”

But there’s no response, no flicker of movement to indicate that she’s heard me. The silence weighs heavily in the air, broken only by the rhythmic sound of her breathing. I take her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin against my own. “I’m here, Alexandra,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

Time seems to stretch on endlessly as I wait by her bedside, the minutes ticking by with excruciating slowness. Each second feels like an eternity, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the uncertainty that hangs over us.

And then, finally, there’s a shift in the air, a subtle change that draws my attention back to Alexandra. I watch with bated breath as her eyelids flutter, a faint crease forming between her brows as she stirs.

“Alexandra?” I say, my voice catching in my throat as I lean closer to her. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes slowly open, blinking against the harsh light of the room. For a moment, there’s confusion in her gaze, a fleeting sense of disorientation as she takes in her surroundings.

“Where... where am I?” She asks, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“You’re in the hospital,” I reply softly, trying to keep my own emotions in check. “We were in an accident. But you’re safe now.”

She frowns, a look of bewilderment crossing her features. “An accident? I... I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her, “you hit your head really hard.”

“But who... who are you?” She asks, her gaze searching mine for answers.

“Okay, stop messing about Alexandra.” I chuckle.

“Are you, my doctor? Can you call my mum please?”

I swallow the lump in my throat, “Alex, it’s me…it’s Ares. Your husband.”

“My husband? I don’t know you! Get out! Someone help!” Moments later, the door swings open, and a middle-aged doctor rushes into the room, his expression grave.

“What’s going on here?” He asks, his voice authoritative as he surveys the scene before him.

I stand up, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to explain. “I’m her husband. She’s just... she’s confused.”

The doctor’s gaze flickers between us, his brow furrowing in concern. “I see,” he says, his tone measured as he approaches Alexandra’s bedside. “Alexandra, can you hear me? I’m Dr. Johnson. I’m here to help.”

But Alexandra’s cries only grow louder, her distress intense in the air. She clutches at the sheets, her eyes wild with fear as she looks to the doctor for help.

“Please,” she pleads, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “Please, help me. I don’t know what’s happening. Who is he? Where am I?”

The doctor exchanges a meaningful glance with the nurses hovering in the doorway, and I feel a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. I know what’s coming next.

“Ares,” the doctor says, turning to face me. “I think it would be best if you stepped outside for a moment. We need to assess the situation and make sure Alexandra receives the care she needs.”

“I’m her husband-”

“Ares, please leave the room.” I open my mouth to protest, but the look in the doctor’s eyes tells me that it’s non-negotiable. With a heavy heart, I nod, casting one last glance at Alexandra before reluctantly making my way to the door.

Leaning against the cold hospital wall, I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me. My mind races with worry for Alexandra, the uncertainty of her condition weighing heavily on my shoulders.

The minutes stretch into an eternity as I wait outside the room, the muffled sounds of medical equipment and hushed voices drifting through the corridor. Each passing moment feels like an eternity, filled with a sense of helplessness that threatens to consume me.

I try to focus on my breathing, to steady my racing heart and calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. But it’s no use. The fear and uncertainty gnaw at me, a relentless presence that refuses to be ignored.

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