Page 89 of Boundaries

Nixon’s eyes roamed over my face. He could see it, my love for Mason, echoed out of my chest like a lion’s roar.

That stern look Nixon always wore when he looked at me was gone and understanding sifted into his features.

Nixon nodded his head in agreement and I pulled away.

“We’ll follow you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, relief slamming into my chest.

I jerked my gaze away and climbed up into the ambulance which held the body of the man I loved. He was battered and bruised and still unconscious.

At that point, I would have done anything within my power to switch places with him. This boy had saved my life and put himself at risk to save my sister and now he was torn and broken. The paramedic’s words, and ‘spinal injury’ swam around my head.

No, I needed to steer my thoughts away from any dark places, I had to be confident. Mason would require encouragement and positivity to get better. And he would get better, I’d sell my soul to the devil if I had to.

The ambulance jolted as it set off down the driveway and I felt numb. I could see the firefighters doing their jobs through the blacked-out windows of the back doors.

A paramedic was still working on Mason and I just sat there, ensuring I wasn’t in the way. An occasional sympathetic smile was sent my way as she worked on her patient.

“Do you want to hold his hand?” the paramedic said.

I forced my brain into gear, “Yes, please. If I won’t be in the way?”

She returned my smile and said, in a calm voice, “You won’t be in the way. My job is to keep him stable. When we get to the hospital, they will have work to do but you mustn’t worry. We’ve got him,” she explained. Her reassurance didn’t matter, my guts were still tied into knots of pain.

The medic continued to work on Mason, she attached some wires to parts of his chest and turned on a monitor of sorts. It appeared to be measuring his heartbeat, the rhythm of that beat felt calming. She also inserted a needle and tube into the back of his other hand, attaching a drip with fluids in it.

Once she had done the necessary checks, she started to run her hands down his jeans, removing his personal items. There was his wallet, a pack of gum and his phone which he’d had in his pocket. The medic placed the items into a see-through bag and gave them to me for safe keeping. I clutched the bag against my chest.

Peering miserably down at Mason’s still form, I raised my hand and pushed my fingers into his free hand, squeezing slightly. I wanted him to know I was there. The warmth of his limp fingers did nothing for that empty coldness I felt inside.

He looked lifeless, I could see his chest lifting and falling slightly and so knew he was breathing, but it was like that fire inside him had burnt out. I needed to tell him I loved him, he needed to know. The thought of never having the chance to tell him how I really felt, hung around my neck like the heaviest of chains.

The time I had spent in this man’s arms were memories I would never forget. The thought of not being able to add to them was like thinking of a world I didn’t want to be part of. I attempted to swallow away that reoccurring lump in my throat several times. Guilt over all the different ways I had tormented him growing up swayed in my chest. Like a memory of our cheekier times together flashing before my eyes. I squeezed his hand, but nothing.

The ambulance suddenly swerved, overtaking an orange van that was parked awkwardly outside my driveway and I wondered fleetingly where I’d seen it before. I also wondered what it was doing on our land. Had the fire already drawn in the rubberneckers? Those people that got a kick out of witnessing tragic events?

For the rest of that journey, I kept hold of Mason’s motionless hand and prayed to God.

At one point, the paramedic placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and said, “Please, don’t worry. We have him, everything will be OK.”

Were they even allowed to say that? Because it would never be OK for me ever again…

Not without Mason.

Seventeen

As the ambulance sped across the roads, zipping in and out of traffic, I felt like I had been drugged. My head was overcrowded; there were too many thoughts racing around in there. I blinked, attempting to clear the fog in my head. The shrill noise from the ambulance siren also added to the torture, intermingling with the beeps from the equipment monitoring Mason. A constant cruel reminder that this may be a life-or-death situation. He was still unconscious, and there had been no movement.

Once she was happy that she had stabilised her patient, the paramedic withdrew a clipboard and starting asking me questions about Mason: his name, age, address, the list was endless. She said she needed as much information as possible to register him when we arrived at the hospital and before he went through triage. There were some questions I couldn’t answer, but explained that his brothers were on the way and would be able to fill in the blanks then.

The nearest emergency room was at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Kings Lynn. When we arrived, everything was a blur, and I felt muddled. My throat was tight, either from smoke inhalation, crying, or both. To add to my confusion, I was too wrapped up in my emotional crisis to establish exactly where they were taking Mason.

Mason had remained unresponsive in the ambulance, and I had held his hand through the entire journey. I was praying to feel something from him—the slight movement of a finger, a twitch—but there had been nothing. He had been so still. The only way you knew he was breathing was from the rhythmic beep from the monitor.

The paramedic had lightly dressed the nasty-looking wound on Mason’s head. She’d left the congealed blood in place, probably not to tamper with the area until the doctors with more experience could assess him.

At the entrance into the hospital unit, the paramedics were met by two other doctors; one was wearing blue scrubs and the other green. The medic who had been in the back with Mason went along with the two doctors and a porter, and they quickly wheeled the patient down the long corridor.

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