Page 143 of Forgive Me Father
“I’m not leaving her!” I shout again, feeling the one thing I never thought I would—tears—trail down my cheeks.
The last time I cried was when my mother died.
Who knew this moment could feel even more excruciating?
“Roman, they will help her, but I need you to let them work—”
“No, no—”
“Give it to me,” Echo demands.
I watch in a daze as an EMT hands Echo a syringe.
“What are you—”
Before I can react, Echo plunges the needle into my neck. A cold rush of sedative overtakes me.
Collapsing onto the floor beside Eden, I see her motionless form being lifted onto a gurney. Struggling to stay conscious,I reach out for her, turning onto my back. The stained glass windows above reflect the flashing lights of the service vehicles.
Perhaps God answered my prayers tonight.
Yet, I wonder, what would my life be without Eden Faulkner?
Perhaps He will grant me one last miracle.
Mark 9:23: "If you can? said Jesus. Everything is possible for one who believes.”
Chapter 41
Eden
Gasping, I force myself upright, instinctively preparing to strike the first person I see. My fist connects with a torso, eliciting a pained cry that seems eerily familiar.
"Ow," Aiden hisses. "I was just getting you pudding," He snaps, the chocolate desserts falling from his hands onto the floor.
Blinking in disbelief, I pinch my arm, hoping to confirm that this isn’t a cruel dream.
Surveying my surroundings, I see medical equipment and an IV drip steadily working through my veins.
My first instinct is to rip out the IV, but Aiden’s hand gently restrains me.
"You’re in a hospital, Eden," He murmurs. "Echo’s team took care of everything. All the kids are safe," He adds, a smile of relief softening his features.
All the kids? They made it out?
"W-What happened—" I start to ask but falter, clutching my side, struggling to draw a full breath.
"Easy, warrior," Aiden soothes. "You took a bullet."
"Dad—"
"Is dead," Aiden says firmly.
"Mom—"
"Also dead," He replies with a sigh. "I went to check on her. I found her..." His voice trails off, revealing the depth of his sorrow.
"Roman—"
