Page 90 of You Loved Me Once
The machine alerts me that it’s ready. “Clear!” I yell and the room stills. The paddles touch her chest, electricity flowing to her heart and her chest lifts.
Again, my eyes move to the monitor. “Come on, Allison,” I mumble.
“Dr. Adams,” Martina says. “It’s been three minutes.”
Irrelevant to me right now. She can survive this. I know it, she just has to want it. “Allison, you need to fight,” I tell her. “You have to fight for your husband and family. Fight, dammit.”
My own heart is pounding so hard that I worry it’s going to leave my chest. I watch the monitor, thinking of any idea I haven’t tried. A rush of nerves floods me, and I watch the flat line dance across the screen.
If I don’t want her to give up, I can’t either.
“Ren, you need to call it.” Martina touches my arm, but I fling it off.
No.
“Push another round of epi. Someone page Dr. Grant and get cardio in here,” I order one of the nurses. I don’t know why she’s not responding, it could be anything. “Charge it again,” I say, desperate to get her back.
My breathing is erratic as I press the panels to her chest again. “Clear!”
Allison’s body jerks, and I close my eyes as the beep continues to echo in the room. The last shred of hope I had is gone. A tear forms as I wait for God or someone to intervene. I need a miracle.
“Dr. Adams?” Westin’s voice penetrates through the eerie silence in the room.
Our eyes meet, and then I look back to Allison.
“Push another round!” I command.
“We’ve given her the max,” the anesthesiologist says.
“I don’t care!”
How could this happen? The surgery went great, she was perfectly okay and then everything went crazy. I stand here, staring at her lifeless body, and I know people are talking around me, but I don’t hear them. Allison is dead. She’s really dead.
How?
No.
I can’t think. This isn’t real. I didn’t just kill her, right?
She was...she was fine.
I shake my head, trying to make this scene disappear.
“Serenity,” Westin’s voice breaks my fog. “You need to call it. She can’t have any more drugs. She’s been gone for too long now.”
“No,” I say. “No, try again!”
He grips my shoulders, stopping me from getting to her.
Westin looks over my shoulder and sighs. “Time of death. Seventeen twenty-two.”
I push the air in and out of my lungs, but they’re burning. Tears fill my eyes and I can’t see. She’s gone. That sweet, caring woman who I promised would be okay, isn’t. She died on my table while I was singing along to some pop song. My heart is beating and hers isn’t.
These are facts.
My eyes meet Westin’s and I start to panic. I can’t breathe. I open my mouth, but no sound will come out.
He pulls me from the room as I begin to break down. “Easy, easy,” he tries to calm me.
