Page 152 of My Damaged Protector

“Of course, I am. You saved me, you saved us, remember?” She forces a smile, her other hand rubbing my palm holding onto her.

I don't remember anything. I just had a terrible dream, and now I'm unable to breathe right again.

I wheeze, my chest hurting so much I grip harder onto her.

“I need to call the doctor,” she says and starts to walk away from me.

“No!” I protest. I can't let her leave me right now.

“Ian, please, I'll be right back. I just need to pop my head out real quick and let them know you're awake.”

“No,” I say, trying to shake my head, but I only end up screaming from the piercing pain that follows the action.

My hold on her releases through the pain, and she runs out of the room, screaming for help.

The moment the door closes behind her, my vision starts to fade again. I try so hard to keep my eyes open, but it's hard. There's a fog pulling at me, and self-restraint has nothing on it.

Sighing, I stop struggling and let the fog take me under.

The next time I'm back to consciousness again, I'm unable to open my eyes or my mouth.

But I can hear sounds around me. There are beeping machines, indistinct conversations, and then a door opening.

I hear the sound of chair creaking before someone comes to stand over me. It's not just a person—there are two. All I have to do is let my sense of smell work to know who one of them is.

Sarah.

“How is he?” she asks whoever is with her.

“He's going to be fine. The surgery went well, but now he's in a coma, as you can see. We'll have to wait for him to come out of it on his own. From his vitals, I think it may be soon.”

Sarah doesn't say anything. The guy who I'm presuming is a doctor starts to touch me. First my face. He opens my mouth. Peels my eyelids. I can't see him, but I can feel everything he is doing.

“Ian. Can you hear us?” the guy speaks.

I'm unable to open my mouth to answer.

“You think he can hear us?” Sarah asks, her voice filled with worry and hope. I want to badly open my eyes and take that worry out of her voice.

She needs to not worry. I'll be fine.

“Some patients can. I can't say for sure if he can.”

He moves away from my face and goes to inspect other parts of my body, all while I struggle to move a part of my body, any one, just to tell Sarah that I am here.

But nothing works.

Soon, I'm tired again and the fog is back to pulling me under. Before I succumb, I let myself remember the horrible dream and I'm grateful that's all it was.

I can't imagine a life without either Sarah or our child.

All I need to do now is get out of this coma and tell Sarah how much I love her.

How do I do that?

44

SARAH

---