Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1) (54 page)

Cassie cleared her throat. “Liz, already did.”

Lindsey looked at me, wide-eyed, a hint of a smile touched her lips. “Good.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Mrs. Connor brushed hair out of my eyes. Some strands were stuck to the drying blood on my face. Kraig came back and sat beside me.

“Yeah, and she refuses to get checked out.” Emily tattled.

Kraig joined in on the parade. “I told her she needs to see a doctor, but she won’t listen to me.”

I shook my head. “I need to know he’s okay.”

“He’d want to know that
you
were okay. Please, for me, let the doctors look at you. I don’t want to worry about the both of you.” How could I argue with his mom?

His dad came back and had no information. At least the hospital knew that they were there. The nurse, who we first met at the hospital, came out to let them know that he had stabilized, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Whatever that meant.

The nurse looked at me, “Will you let me take a look at you now?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

I didn’t want to be alone. I was having flashbacks of
San Francisco
. Being by myself, getting medical care, brought back too many memories that I didn’t want to experience again. But nobody there knew about that, so how could they understand how scared I was? I stood up and felt dizzy.

Kraig caught and steadied me. “I’ll go with you. If it’s okay with you…”

* * *

The nurse led us to a curtained exam area. She had me lie down on the bed as she grabbed stuff to clean my wounds. Nurse Susan disinfected the cuts on my face, which stung unbelievably. Kraig held my hand through it. I think I crushed his hand a few times.

She asked me a bunch of questions. Like… What happened? Did I hit my head? Had I lost consciousness recently? How often did I feel dizzy or light-headed? I knew if I wasn’t truthful, Mrs. Connor and Patrick would be mad at me. So, I told her how there were a couple times I had, but had to keep going anyway.

“A couple times, including before you stood up to come with me?”

“Yeah. But I’m okay.”

She was concerned because I had blacked out on Monday and in less than a week, I had hit my head again. I didn’t want to be admitted. I wanted to be with Patrick. I wasn’t planning on leaving the hospital anytime soon. I just didn’t want to be stuck in bed.

As Nurse Susan checked me over, she noticed me recoiling when she lightly touched my side. She lifted part of my shirt and saw how bruised my ribs were. It was an interesting shade of purples and reds against my copper skin. Great, now she wanted even more x-rays to make sure nothing was broken. I was anxious to get back to everyone and find out how Patrick was doing. Now, the only way to do it was to do whatever the nurse wanted. She took me over to get x-rays and would have a doctor come by to look them over and do my stitches. Kraig went to see if there was any news on Patrick.

* * *

When I got back from x-ray, Kraig, Mrs. Connor and a police officer were there waiting for me. The officer wanted to get my statement of what had happened to Patrick. He had already spoken to the others. I had a flashback of me speaking to detective from a hospital bed. I was physically and emotionally in a different place than before. Better? Yes and no. Worse? In a way. Different? Sorta.

I couldn’t look at Mrs. Connor as I gave the officer more details than I originally gave her. I knew the police needed to know everything. Things that I tried to spare his family. As I meticulously recounted the horror of the evening, what I saw, what I did, I remembered something. “I grabbed the cup I saw him drinking from. It’s still in the car.”

“Good. I’d like to collect that from you.” He looked up from his little notepad. Kraig left with him, to get him the cup.

Patrick’s mom lightly put her hand on my leg. I turned my head to face her, slowly bringing my gaze up. She gave me a gentle hug.

“Thank you, Liz. It hardly seems like enough. I am so grateful that you were there for him. I don’t want to think what would have happened to him if you weren’t.” Her voice broke.

I hugged her back. “I wish I could have done more. You should go back to the family.”

She should be with her husband and other kids, not in here sitting by my bedside. She politely disagreed, “You need me here. Lindsey will come if there’s any news. At least here I feel a little useful.”

“Thanks.” I smiled awkwardly. I was truly grateful.

The doctor walked in, Dr. Spencer. He put the x-rays up on the lighted board. Nothing was broken. Just as I thought. I just bruised the hell out of my ribs and my head. The doctor pulled up a stool next to me and started stitching up my face. I had four stitches just under my right eye, almost high on the cheekbone. My lip was split, but there wasn’t anything they could do about that except clean it. I had a bunch of other cuts and bruises, all cleaned and treated as best as possible and a medication for the pain.

The doctor also expressed his concern about my recent head injuries. Mrs. Connor looked so concerned. I had to admit, it felt nice. It was sweet that she was worried about me. I felt loved. I was ordered to take it easy and to come back if I experienced any dizziness, light-headedness, blurry vision or having any ringing in the ears. Fine, fine. Just let us leave already.

* * *

When we returned to the waiting room, Andy was asleep on the chairs, his head rested in Lindsey’s lap. The crew came up to me and asked how I was doing. I told them I’d be fine, just a few stitches. I hid behind my hair, letting it cover the right side of my face.

Patrick’s doctor came out and spoke with his parents. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I don’t think I even blinked. I desperately tried to figure out what was being said from a distance of 40 feet away. His dad maintained his composure – exuding the strength that dads should in situations like this. His arm wrapped around Mrs. Connor’s back, supporting her, and I didn’t doubt, himself.

Mrs. Connor nodded nervously as the doctor spoke. It was like he wasn’t giving her the information she wanted quick enough. Her hand rose to her chest and sighed. The doctor put his hand on her shoulder as if to reassure her. He turned and walked away.

They stood there talking with each other for a couple minutes. Mrs. Connor shook her head. Whatever her husband was saying, she didn’t seem to agree. They quickly came to some compromise and walked over to me and the crew, hand in hand.

They shared the news with the rest of us. They had found a large amount of rohypnol in his system. He had suffered from respiratory depression when he arrived. His breathing had improved, his temperature was down. He was responding to stimuli. He still hadn’t woken up yet, they expected him to be asleep for several hours. The doctors believed that he would be fine and they were moving him into a room. I was so relieved. But I wouldn’t feel completely better until he was awake and told me himself.

His parents thanked everyone for their help and being there for him. “Go home and get some rest guys.”

Mr. Connor picked up Andy, who was still sleeping – it was way past his bedtime. Mrs. Connor and Lindsey hugged each one of the crew goodbye. I just stood there. I didn’t want to leave. Please don’t make me go home to an empty house. I’d go insane there by myself.

“Liz, I’d feel better if you stayed with me, since you’re parents aren’t home. The doctor said to keep an eye on you. If something happened and you were alone, I would never forgive myself.” Mrs. Connor gently took parental control over me. I honestly, didn’t mind.

I looked back at the crew. “I guess I’m staying.”

Mr. Connor pulled out his keys and insisted driving some of the crew home. He didn’t want them cramming into one car and was going home to put Andy to bed. Lindsey was going to stay at the hospital with her mom.

“No, it’s okay. We can all fit in Jason’s.” Bobby insisted.

“Not legally. If something happened…” I never heard Mr. Connor sound so tired. “Please, we really don’t want to worry about any of you right now.”

Bobby nodded and obeyed. “Okay. Thank you.”

The crew carefully hugged me, knowing that actually touching my sides, front, arms – well, basically most of me – hurt.

Bobby stared at me intently, seriously. The light that usually shown in his brown eyes was gone. It was replaced with heartache. “Liz, thank you. Patrick has been one of my best friends since kindergarten. If anything happened to him tonight…” He shook his head. “You have been a breath of fresh air in his life and tonight, you saved it. I should have picked up on what Becca was doing…” He looked down, ashamed. “I guess, as much as I saw through stuff she did, I didn’t. And because of that, I failed him.”

“No.” I was adamant. “You
were
there for him and me. You are a great friend. You got us here in time. He’s going to be okay.” I never thought I would be the one who would be the optimist, especially in the crew. That was Patrick’s job. Correction, it
is
Patrick’s job.

I reiterated my intent to call them with any news. We said our good-byes and out the door they went.

A nurse came out and told us the room number that they had moved Patrick to. Mrs. Connor put her arm around Lindsey and me as we walked to the elevator. I really hoped that Patrick would be awake before Andy returned and that Andy could remain blissfully unaware of how frightening tonight had been. How he could have lost his big brother. That he was spared the terror that Patrick told me he still remembered from when Lindsey was hurt.

38. KINDRED SPIRITS

As far as hospital rooms go, it was okay. There were two chairs, a stool, and a little two-person couch in it. The other bed in the room was unoccupied. A bathroom was attached.

Then there was Patrick, lying perfectly still in his bed, IVs attached to him. I was glad that they said his breathing had improved since I held him in my arms as we rushed him to the ER. I don’t think I could have taken seeing some tube down his throat. Instead, he had a thin little tube giving his oxygen through his nostrils.

He looked like he was sleeping. If he was, I hoped he was having pleasant dreams and would wake up soon!

I sat next to him, gently stroking his hand. Was he dreaming? Was he able to think in his state? Did he know we were all there with him waiting for him to wake up?

His mom and sister were on the other side of him. Lindsey stood beside her mom, with her hand on her back. Mrs. Connor held his hand. Every so often she’d look up and our eyes would meet.

“He’s going to be fine. We just have to be patient.” I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince us or herself. Maybe both.

The three of us sat in silence and kept vigil at Patrick’s bedside. Now that I was just sitting, able to see him, I felt like the flurry of the night was slowing down.

I kept replaying the night over and over in my mind. How everything was great, then contorted into a nightmare. I couldn’t sleep, I was afraid of not snapping out of the nightmare and I wanted to be there when Patrick woke up. At least, awake reliving it, I could look around the room and know I wasn’t stuck at Dylan’s party. After going over it for the thousandth time and finding things I could have done differently. Seventeen to be exact. I had to stop.

I needed to think of something else. I needed to calm down. I did the only thing I could think of that would. I started singing to myself. Well, in my head. I thought about the first time I sang for Patrick, in Mr. D’s room. It seemed so long ago. But it had only been about two months.

After a half dozen or so songs, my throat started to ache. Was this a side effect of the medication they gave me?

“Why’d you stop?” Lindsey’s question pulled me out of my cocoon.