Page 100 of Love Me in the Dark
When the doors slid open and two paramedics rolled in a stretcher, I jumped into action.
“What do we have?”
“Eight year old…”
Jesus Christ, only eight.
“Pulse is strong but his temperature’s low.”
I directed the paramedic off to the right, “room two,” and turned back to the bay as ambulance number two drove in.
This time when the doors slid open, my heart broke.
Sitting on top of the stretcher, preforming CPR on a little boy who couldn’t be any older than six, was Louis Kessler.
“He’s not breathing.” Louis called out while pumping the boy’s chest.
When Brett was offered the transfer here I was hesitant, but it turned out my suspicions were right. Louis didn’t recognize me. We worked in the same place for two years and he didn’t so much as look at me. And why would he? I was beneath him.
The man I saw in Ashen Springs was nothing like the man I met years ago. He was kind and funny. Our time was short, but he made me feel like a goddess. This Louis Kessler walked around with his head held high, as if he was king and everyone else was a mere peasant not worthy of licking his shoes.
He didn’t look so high and mighty right now, though. His damp hair stood on end, while water dripped off his shoes and desperation filled his eyes.
The stretcher rolled past me and that’s when it hit me. These weren’t just any boys. They were his boys.
Suddenly all I could think about was my precious baby. The smell of his hair. How his tiny hand felt wrapped around my finger, and sweet way his eyes shone when he looked up at me. Micha and Mason were his brothers and I’d be damned if I was going to let them die on my watch.
I wrotedown some stats then looked down at the bed. It was touch and go for a while but we brought Mason back. Now he was sleeping comfortably in the next room. Micha had to be put to sleep. He refused to stay in bed and kept demanding to see his brother. Poor child was more worried about Mason than he was himself. And who could blame him? According to his father, Micha was the one who pulled his brother out of the car.
An eight year old was put in a position where he had to save someone’s life. That’s what his mother did to him.
“Such a brave boy.” I reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead.
He looked so much like his father. He even had the same stern knit in his brows when he slept. I couldn’t help but wonder if my son would’ve shared any of their similarities?
Would he be proud of his brother? Did he have any siblings he was growing up with now? I didn’t know anything about the people who adopted him. I didn’t even know his name. What was his mother like? Was she nice or would she try and drown him in the bathtub? That thought never would’ve went through my mind yesterday. What was the world coming to when a mother’s intentions had to be questioned?
“Is my brother okay?”
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t see Micha’s eyes open.
“Yes,” I smiled down at him. “Mason is going to be just fine.”
As fine as he could be anyway. His mother did try to kill him. How does a child even begin to wrap their mind around that?
Micha pushed himself up and demanded, “I want to see him.”
“He needs his rest.”
The little boy’s face hardened in an expression someone so young should not have. “Well, he can rest with me in the room.”
I saw where this was going, and fortunately for me my daughter was born with a stubborn streak a mile long.
“Okay, but if he wakes up too soon, he might panic and then we’ll have to intubate him again. That’s when we put a tube down his throat…”
“I know what intubate means.” Micha interrupted.
He was like is father in more ways than appearance. I could see why my daughter’s friend Riley had problems with him.
