Page 20 of Shattered Lives

Of course not. I spent most of the day trying not to throw up from nerves, but I don’t mention that. “I bought a sandwich on my way back to the hotel, but I wanted to call you guys first.”

“Eat,” she says firmly. “Then get some sleep. You need to keep your strength up.”

After we hang up, I do as instructed, eating my now-soggy chicken sandwich before heading for the shower. The water streaming down my face blends with my tears as images of Mark’s bruised and battered body fill my mind. I start shaking, unable to stop. It continues after I’m out of the shower, even after drying my hair, even after huddling beneath the blankets and clutching a pillow to my chest, facing the hotel room door.

I can’t lose Mark.

I can’t.

I’m not strong enough to do this without him.

MARK

The blackness fades in and out as voices come and go. They must be angels. I wonder what they look like and if they have wings and harps. I don’t hear any harps, though. Just voices.

I feel myself being shifted sometimes. I’m like a ragdoll, unable to move on my own, positioned by whoever is in charge here. Sometimes I hear different voices from far away, and I sense painfully bright lights beyond my eyelids.

My eyes are still too heavy to open. Maybe the bright light is the one I’m supposed to go to. If it is, I hope one of the angels will tell me.

That’s my last thought before the darkness returns. It always returns.

Then I hear her. She’s here. Charlie’s here!

She’s crying.

Don’t cry, Charlie.

I need to tell her not to cry, but I can’t push through this fog. Darkness overtakes me again.

I partially resurface later, though I don’t know how long it’s been. I’m still engulfed in a thick haze, but I hear her voice again. Charlie’s still here. She’s talking.

What is she saying?

Her voice is gentle, but I can’t make out her words. I try to turn toward her. She’s on my right, but I can’t move my head, and I can’t convince my eyes to open.

Why won’t my body cooperate?

I try to growl my frustration, but nothing happens.

Darkness.

Every time the darkness starts to lift, I hear her voice, husky and sweet. Sometimes I hear music, familiar but distant. It reminds me of her.

Charlie’s still here. She hasn’t left me.

I need to wake up. I have to talk to her. But the darkness is too strong. I fight it with all my might, but it keeps overpowering me.

At least I can hear her. I don’t know what she’s saying, but she’s with me. Her presence comforts me. Soothes me.

Charlie’s with me.

Darkness.

CHARLIE

Despite my physical and emotional exhaustion, I can’t sleep. I’m too anxious. I toss and turn in the bed, relocate to the firm recliner, and even try lying sideways across the second queen-sized bed in the room, but it’s no use. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mark’s broken body. The images seize my heart, compounding my fear he won’t wake up. Or worse, he will wake up, but he’ll be gone – an empty vessel devoid of him, leaving me forced to keep a promise I never should have made.

Eventually, I rifle through the packets at the small coffeemaker in the tiny kitchenette and find tea bags. I brew myself some green tea, sipping quietly, trying to envision my happy place in the woods beyond my house. I close my eyes and picture the solitude of the mountain stream. I can almost hear the water splashing over the rocks and feel the damp moss beneath me and the rough bark of the tree at my back. I breathe deeply, drawing on the peaceful image in my mind. When my mind is calmer, I turn on the ceiling fan for some white noise and crawl into bed.

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