Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

“But—”

“She said she wanted you there, that’s good enough for me.” She opens the door wider and motions for me to walk on ahead. “Any idea where her dad is?”

“He said he was speaking to the police. I don’t know whether he left or not.”

She nods. “I’ll page around and see if anyone has seen a bunch of cops, they’re not very inconspicuous, y’know.”

“No, I guess they’re not.”

With one last smile from her, I turn around and walk down the hallway toward Amelia’s room. I don’t know what to expect when I walk in, but I breathe a sigh of relief that she’s sleeping soundly.

She needs the rest so she can heal and if I’m really honest with myself, I don’t want another repeat performance of earlier. I can’t take her begging me to help her—to fix her—it’s too much because I know apart from being here for her, there’s nothing more I can do.

I close the door behind me and sit in the chair I was in earlier, watching her sleep. She looks so peaceful apart from the odd frown creasing her brow I’d like to help erase.

After a little while my eyes start to sting and I shut them, leaning back in the chair and listening to the machines beep around me.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

The deep baritone that whispers to me is the first thing I hear, but I don’t make a move to show that I can hear my dad. This time isn’t like the last time where everything came back at once. No, this time as soon as I’m aware of people surrounding me, I know I want to be left alone.

“I should only be a couple of hours; Jan’s flight lands at one.”

“I’ll still be here.” Nate.

I keep my breaths even, trying to keep the guise of still being asleep from the sedative they gave me. How long ago was that? A day? A week?

Once the door clicks shut, I move my right hand down my body, touching the top of my leg, a false hope taking root before my fingertips make contact. There’s nothing—no feeling, no sensation.

Nothing’s changed.

I feel movement to my left, and when I open my eyes I see Nate sitting next to me. He lifts his head, his gaze clashing with mine.

I examine him, taking in the scruff lining his jaw and the dark circles under his eyes, but most importantly, the desperation in them.

“Hi,” he says weakly but when I don’t say anything back, he reaches to his right and picks up a glass of water and holds it out to me. “You must be thirsty.”

I stare at him, focusing on his tired eyes, not making a move as he brings the glass closer to my lips. I’d rather feel the pain in my throat than nothing at all, at least then I know I’m still alive.

As I turn my head away from him, he sighs. “You need to drink something.” Again I don’t say anything back. “Maybe later then.”

I hear the sound of the glass as he places it down on the table and sense his movement when he stands up and walks around the bed.

“I’ll go and tell the nurse you’re awake.” He stops when he gets to the door, his hand on the handle as he looks back at me, hesitation marring his face. I don’t offer him a smile, a nod—nothing. I only stare at him blankly.

His chest heaves on a breath before he opens the door, leaving it slightly open as he slips out. My gaze lands on a circle mark on the wall directly in front of me that’s the size of a quarter. I stare at it for seconds that turn into minutes, and even when Nate returns, standing by the side of my bed and taking ahold of my limp hand, I still don’t stop staring at it to acknowledge him.

My ears perk up at the sound of footsteps getting louder as they near, but when the door to my room fully opens, I keep my eyes trained on the spot on the wall.

My vitals are taken, a nurse prodding and poking at my arm and taking my blood pressure, all the while the spot on the wall holds my attention like it’s all that matters.

“The doctor was called into a surgery late last night but should be here to give you the results soon,” she says, not to anybody in particular.

“Her dad won’t be back for a couple of hours,” Nate tells the nurse as she clips the chart to the bottom of the bed.

The nurse cuts her gaze to me and then Nate. “It’s Beth who’s the patient.”

Another set of footsteps near and then a gruff voice says, “Beth, I’m Doctor Bale, the lead consultant on your case.” Amelia, I want to tell him, but I keep my lips sewn together as the nurse exits the room. I slowly move my gaze to him, not taking any of his features in as he swipes his finger on the tablet he’s holding. “Let me explain everything from the start before we discuss long-term treatment plans.”