Page 58 of Bristol

People always talk about how they are emotionless in the midst of chaos. Numb. Empty. Too overwhelmed to feel anything. None of that makes any sense to me. I feel everything so fucking deeply, they may as well have burned me alongside him.

I just want to see him. Touch his face. Tell him I love him. Tell him I’m here.

A silent tear streams down my cheek while so many thoughts clammer through my mind in a whirlwind. Sebastian is my steady. The person I have been able to turn to in any situation since I’ve been freed. I don’t know what to do without his guidance. I need him to wake up. I need him to be okay. I need him to tell me that it’s going to be okay.

Mo pulls me into his side, and we sit in silence while tears run down my face. There’s a soft knock on the door. I snap my head up, staring at the door. It slowly opens and a doctor walks in. He’s much younger than I expected. I guess I pictured someone with white hair and a cold smile. I’m met with a man that looks to be in his early forties. His hair is a light brown, and he has a mustache and beard that are the same color but sprinkled with a little more silver hair throughout.

His smile is soft and welcoming, and I feel an odd sense of relief seeing that this is who has been taking care of Sebastian.

“Doc?” Mo says, smiling at the man.

“Hey, Mo! I didn’t know this was one of your guys.”

I stare at the two of them while waiting for the topic of conversation to turn to the whole fucking reason we’re here.

“This is Sebastian’s girlfriend, Bristol. What can you tell us about how he’s doing?” Mo asks.

Doc goes on to explain in grave detail the affected areas and how they intend to treat Sebastian’s wounds. I’m hyper focused, tuned into every word coming out of Doc’s mouth. He will have to go through wound care for what Doc says is a long time and it is going to be very painful.

My heart breaks knowing that he is going to have to endure so much pain. Doc says he’s heavily medicated, but awake. His burns are limited to his left arm, shoulder, and the entire left side of his torso, covering his ribcage and some spots on his back.

After Doc is done explaining everything to us, he leads us through the hospital to a hallway of rooms and nurse’s stations. The hospital is busy, crawling with people moving through the hallways. Phones are ringing, machines are beeping. There is so much going on that it’s strange to think of all of the things truly happening right now. People in here are dying, being born, healing, declining. There are so many happenings, happening and yet people are continuing on with their busy lives inside of these walls.

My mind races, focusing on nothing and everything as we walk past the hustle and bustle of the hospital. Finally, he stops at a door and knocks softly, not giving time for a response from inside before opening it. We step in behind him and I close the door softly. The lights are dim, and there isn’t much daylight left outside to seep in through the partially parted curtains.

There is a nurse by Sebastian’s bedside. He’s positioned lying on his right side, facing the door we just came in through. I don’t know why I expected him to be in some kind of full body suit, wrapped up like a mummy with his arms and feet elevated in slings, but that is most definitely not the view that I walked into.

Aside from the bandage on his arm and him being in a hospital gown, he looks like my Sebastian. The same way he looked when he kissed me goodbye and left five days ago. I want to rush over to him and pull him into my arms, but I remain calm. I’ve had years of learning to control my emotions but that somehow feels like eons ago, a different life entirely.

“He’s on some pretty strong painkillers, but he is in and out,” Doc says, standing by the door.

“I’ll be with him the whole time,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I’m not even sure that I spoke until Mo speaks up.

“One of us will be here for you, too, at all times. I’ll have a prospect in the parking lot around the clock. If you need anything, you just call.”

I nod and with that, Mo and Doc walk out with the nurse right behind them, leaving me alone with Sebastian. There’s a small recliner beside the bed, next to the couch that folds out into a bed. I pull the recliner up next to his bed, as close to him as I can get. He’s resting and the steady rhythm of his breathing gives me so much peace. He is okay. He is going to be okay. I fold my arms onto his bed and rest my head on them, staring at him sleeping. I stare at him for hours before I doze off.

The sound of a pained scream rips me from the most blissful nap. I jump up, nearly falling backward over the recliner behind me as I search the room frantically for whatever is causing the screaming. I look down and see Sebastian’s face contorted with his brows drawn tightly together and his lips shut tight. He looks so uncomfortable. I reach for the remote that has the nurse button and before I can push it, two nurses come rushing in.

Machines are beeping, Sebastian lets out another yell as one of the nurses puts her hand on his shoulder. At some point between waking up and the nurses coming in, I move halfway across the room and out of the way. I stand back helplessly watching as Sebastian suffers. It’s the most broken I’ve ever felt. Watching as the man I love hurts and being unable to do anything to make it any better.

The overhead lights are turned on by one of the nurses, and they begin assessing him. I don’t even think he knows I’m here. While one of the nurses undoes his bandage and puts some kind of clear gel from a silver tube on his arm, I head to the other side of the bed.

“Hey, baby,” I say, resting my hand on his collarbone.

His eyes pop open and he stares at me wide-eyed for a beat.

“Hey, love,” he says, his voice hoarse.

His right hand comes up to rest right on top of mine. He nestles his head against my arm and winces as the nurse begins wrapping the gauze around his arm. I couldn’t see much, but from the glimpse of his bare arm that I could see, he’s missing some spots of tattoo on his arm.

“Water,” he whispers.

“I’m Melanie and I’m his nurse for the night. I’ll go grab him some fresh water and a cup of ice,” the taller nurse with long blonde hair says softly. She turns out the bright lights and they both leave the room.

Sebastian’s eyes are closed and I know he probably doesn’t want to talk a whole lot. I can imagine how his throat feels with inhaling smoke and being half out of it.

Nurse Melanie returns with a full pitcher of water and a plastic cup full of ice with a bendy straw and a lid. She fills the cup and hands it to me, noting Sebastian’s state of rest.

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