Page 93 of Lust
The ground creaked under me when I tried to slide forward again. Fuck. I stopped when she turned her face sideways.
“When we got older,” she continued, “you’d look at me whenever you were at a crossroad. It’d be all over your face that you wanted to take the shortcut, and you’d often do exactly that. But there were other times, too, when you’d look at me, then decide to stay the course of a difficult route.”
“Yes, Angel,” I agreed shakily. “You’re the only one who can keep me on the right path.” One more small step toward Sara. I didn’t have the luxury to freak out right now. I had to keep my head in the game.
Sara turned to face me, and I froze in place, hoping she didn’t notice the minuscule distance I had covered during the length of our conversation.
“Those are the colors angels like to wear—pastels, blues, whites, pinks. I dressed like an angel for you. Everything… my whole life… I tried to beyourangel to chase awayyourdemons. To make you choose the right path. I wanted to save you, but you are too far gone, Tris. I’ve failed.”
“No. No, Angel. That’s not true. Please, Sara—”
Without looking back, Sara jumped.
I didn’t hesitate as I jumped after her. I caught her in mid-air and grabbed her body into a hug, then rotated us to the side. We hit the ground together, and I prayed to my God that I had managed to salvage her by keeping her firmly to my chest, and it was only the side of my body to take the hit.
“It’s not looking good, Mr. Marcolf.”
“Then look harder,” I snapped.
Sara and I had been at the hospital since the fall. I tried to shield her, but twelve feet proved to be lethal.
The side of my body hit the ground with a forceful impact. The damages were primarily superficial. My right cheek was destroyed, and my face was so marred with a large scar that no one would dare call me beautiful again.
Otherwise, my recovery was quick.
I was unconscious for less than a day. Other than the bandages covering half my face, minor pain, and a sling around my shoulders, I was back to normal.
Meanwhile, Sara’s condition hadn’t improved after five days.
It made no sense. The doctors agreed that my body should have protected her from the fall. The internal bleeding was minimum, with no major damages, sans a tiny miracle.
Sara was pregnant.
Despite the birth control shot, my seed had taken root within the early days before it was fully effective. Since she never had the chance to take the pregnancy test, it wasn’t until we were brought to this hospital that we found out.
The baby was fine. Superficially, so was Sara. Yet, no one could pinpoint the reason for the lack of recovery.
Almost as if a force was sucking the life out of her.
My throat constricted, suffocating me at the thought of losing her. There had to be a way.
“I don’t care what you have to do,” I said, my voice escalating with every word. “If anything happens to her—”
“Tristan,” Mom whispered with a gentle hand on my shoulders. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Ragu’s were none the better. We were in Sara’s room in the hospital, surrounding her bed like devoted dwarves waiting for fucking Snow White to awaken. “Stop.”
For days, I had been dragging the doctors through the wringer. The more I recovered physically, the more it angered me that Sara hadn’t.
Mom knew it too.
“Just stop, Tristan,” she said with a head shake.
The doctors took the small window to make their escapes, mumbling an apology as they left. Ragu followed them out. “I’m going to get some coffee,” he said over his shoulders.
For days, none of us have slept. Ever since my recovery, I had practically moved into Sara’s room. The same held true for Mom and Ragu.
“You need to rest before you tear everyone’s heads off,” Mom whispered after they had cleared out. “If this continues, all the doctors in this hospital will start refusing care.”
Deep down, I was aware that my attitude wasn’t helping. Sara was getting the best care money could buy, but there was only so much money could do against God’s will. Or perhaps it was the Devil’s will.
