Pieces of a Mending Heart (28 page)

             
A man I don’t recognize rushes over to me, momentarily letting me see what’s unfolding beyond the circle of
people I’m enclosed in. Tristan is sitting up, surrounded by his own group of officers. Sorren is being lifted onto a stretcher and from what I see, she isn’t moving. A rock drops in my stomach, and I turn to the side and throw up on the shoes of the nearest officer. I look up at him to apologize, but more vomit makes an appearance.

             
The embarrassment from puking fades as I’m bombarded with pain from every orifice of my body. My torso feels like it’s on fire, and trying to breathe sends stabbing pain to my lungs. I look at the ground, closing my mouth in an attempt to catch my breath. Every time I breathe in, I feel an agonizing pain in my ribs. The unknown man who was approaching me turns my face, but not before I catch sight of the blood on the ground. I didn’t vomit; I was spewing blood.

             
“Katherine, we’re going to take you to the hospital. This is oxygen, try to take slow breaths,” the man says, trying to sound calm but his tone is laced with panic. He’s young and probably inexperienced. Great… that’s comforting.

             
The man loads me onto a gurney and plops me into the back of an ambulance, but not before Tristan hops in the back of the vehicle.

             
“Son, you can’t be in here!” a man says, moving to push him out.

             
Tristan says nothing, merely sits beside me and takes my hand. He’s in rough shape: a swollen eye that will probably be very black very soon, a deep gash on his forehead that looks like it needs stitches, and a split lip that coated his normally white teeth in a layer of crimson blood. The look in his eyes is all the reply the medic needs, because he shuts the door and we speed away.

             
Tears fall down Tristan’s face and a sob escapes him; it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him cry. I feel a heaviness settle over me, so I know I don’t have long until I black out. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or how serious my injuries are, so I don’t want to waste another second by his side.

             
I raise my right hand, which is covered in blood and dirt, and sign Tristan the only word I know in sign language.

             
I love you.

Chapter 16

Tristan

             
I cry the whole way to the hospital. The medic didn’t say a word as she passed out, just kept doing whatever he was doing to her. She told me she loves me. She didn’t speak the words, but my sister and I used to sign them to each other every day as her school bus pulled away from our house. The gesture made more tears fall, and I was too heartbroken to care or be embarrassed.

             
The nurses had to pry my hand from Katie’s as we entered the hospital, and I was left standing in the hallway, alone, with my angel’s blood on my hands.

             
Time passes. Who knows how much, but it passes. And I sit in the ER waiting room as doctors approach me. Questions. Stiches. Medication. It all blurs together until I take a deep breath…

             
And pray.

             
“Tristan?” I feel an arm pulling me upright and jump, eyes popping wide.

             
“Rachel,” I say, accepting her hug with gratitude. She’s been there for me through it all, so it only makes sense for her to be here with me now. Especially because it’s her niece we’re crying over this time.

             
“Thank you, Tristan. For being so brave,” she says as I bury my face in her neck.

             
Brave? I’m blubbering like a child while she’s consoling me. The only woman who has shown me maternal love in the past few years is the only person I speak to while we wait in the hospital. Doctors keep asking me to go get more thoroughly checked out, but I refuse.

             
“How’s Sorren?” I ask as the latest round of nurses shuffles out of our private waiting room.

             
Rachel sighs, rubbing her temples with her fingers. It takes her a moment to answer, and it only takes a few seconds for me to get even more nervous.

             
“Sorren is in a coma, Tristan. She was shot in the head. They can’t know the extent of the damage, and she’s on life support,” Rachel says.

             
My breath falls out of me in a huff. Emotional overload has officially set in and I slump agains
t the bench and stop thinking.

Chapter 17

Katherine

             
The first thing I hear is someone talking. An unfamiliar female voice, which is rather nasally and unpleasant keeps repeating my name. My eyes open slowly and my lids feel like they weigh fifty pounds, but at least the room is semi-dark. They must’ve turned off the lights to help me adjust. It takes only a moment to remember my setting and when I do, a monitor registers the pickup of my heartbeat.

             
“Relax, Katherine. Do you know where you are? Don’t try to speak, just nod if you do,” she says with authentic concern in her eyes.

             
I nod and tears drip from my eyes. I hate crying, but it’s all I seem to be doing of late.

             
“Good. Do you need any more pain medication? It will make you sleepy.”

             
I shake my head, not wanting to sleep anymore. My whole body feels numb and I feel very vulnerable and being asleep would bring no comfort.

             
“Is it okay if we take out the tube that’s down your throat?” she asks, completely serious.

             
I roll my eyes.
No, leave the tube in…
I think, loaded with sarcasm. The moment of irritation is erased as the tube is removed and I feel like I’m suffocating. I gasp and my lungs learn to work again.

             
“Great job, kiddo! I’ll send the doctor in,” the nurse says, patting my head like I’m a five year old. I resist the urge to roll my eyes again.

             
“Sorren. My friend. Is she okay?” I rasp, the words barely audible.

             
“I’ll send the doctor in,” the nurse repeats, worrying me.

             
A few seconds later, the same doctor I saw a few nights ago walks in. Doctor Colson.

             
“Katherine. Hello my dear. I’m sorry to see you again under these circumstances, but from what I hear, you’re feeling well. You’re not lying, I hope?” he says in his soothing deep voice.

             
Something about this man brings me comfort. I can’t put my finger on it, but maybe he’s just a genuinely nice person. I’ve always been a good judge of character. Minus the year…

             
“I’m not feeling
well
, but I’m not in as much pain as I thought I would be,” I say, which is stupid. I wasn’t thinking about
the amount of pain I would be in. I’ve been thinking of nothing but Tristan and Sorren since I woke up a few minutes ago.

             
“How are my friends?” I ask, interrupting whatever he was beginning to say.

             
“Let’s talk about you for a few minutes, Katherine,” he insists, pulling over a little chair on wheels.

             
“Let’s not. How are my friends?” I repeat with much more force.

             
He sighs, pulling off his overly large glasses. “Katherine, Sorena is in a coma. A bullet lodged in her brain and she’s unable to function on her own. There isn’t much we can do but pray.”

             
The heart monitor slows down as a lead weight crashes onto my shoulders. I blink, but I am too stunned to show any emotion. My mind reels back to the visions we shared and the one I kept from her… of her death. Maybe they were warnings? But a coma isn’t death. Miracles do exist,
I
am one of them. If it’s meant to be, then it will be. It’s the Lord’s decision.

             
But that doesn’t make it easy on the rest of us. A sudden realization falls on me and I scream before bursting into tears. It’s still difficult to breathe, and I start gasping and panicking.

             
I was holding a gun. I fired a shot. What if it was my bullet that hit her? What if it was the bullet I released for no reason? I don’t even remember why I shot! I just shot to feel like I was helping somehow. The doctor must have anticipated my meltdown because he puts a hand on my shoulder and speaks in a very firm voice.

             
“Katherine, Tristan saw the whole thing. David’s bullet was what hit Sorren; not yours. You hit David in the shoulder, although no one knows how. You got extremely lucky, Miss. Prince. You have someone watching out for you up there,” he concludes.

             
A few minutes pass and I try to even my breathing, like Doctor Colson instructs. He explains what happened to
me
, and I’m shocked to find that this whole ordeal took place nearly four days ago.

             
“You stumbled and landed, very hard and very fast, on a large, pointed rock. Upon impact, three of your ribs snapped and punctured your right lung. This is called p
neumothorax
, which is a collapsed lung. This condition is what caused you to cough up blood. We mended your lung but your ribs will have to heal on their own. We’ve kept you sedated so that you wouldn’t be in pain,” he says, sounding very professional.

             
I sniffle, wiping my nose with a tissue he hands me. “Is Tristan alright?” My heart thumps, waiting for an answer.

             
“Yes, other than a sprained wrist and a few cuts and bruises, he’s miraculously unharmed. He hasn’t left your side, or the waiting room, since your arrival. He’s showering in the room next door at the moment. Your aunt is at the airport, picking up your mother.”

             
A faint sigh of relief escapes me, followed quickly by guilt. How can I feel relieved when Sorren is in a coma? She took her life in her hands to protect us, the two people who fought with her the night before. The amount of courage it took, of love and selflessness, is astounding.

             
“Katie?” a voice says from the doorway.

             
My heart sings. The angel I’ve known for such a short time, but love so deeply, was almost taken from me. We were almost separated, and I had never told him how much he means to me. Never told him how thankful I am for his very soul; for his heart. He is all I’ve ever needed, desired, and dreamt of.

             
And he was almost gone as quickly as he came.

             
“Tristan,” I say, voice cracking, but I refuse to cry. I also refuse to tell him my feelings in a hospital room, so close to death and heartbreak. So close to Sorren.

             
He closes the gap between us, gently wrapping his arms around me, being careful of my ribs. His one hand is wrapped in an Ace bandage, his forehead covered in gauze and eye black and blue. He looks like he took a jog through hell, but he is still beautiful. It’s vain and horrible to notice such things under the circumstances, but I simply cannot help it.

             
His lips move but no words come out, and I know that he is praying. I close my eyes, feeling the blessings washing over me. The goodness flows out of every silent word he prays.

             
“Thank you, God,” he says aloud, putting both hands on the sides of my head, kissing my forehead and letting his lips linger for a very long time.

             
Doctor Colson apparently stepped out of the room at some point, because when my eyes start to close and Tristan shuts off the lights completely, we are alone in my hospital room.

             
“You can go home tomorrow. We can get through this,” Tristan whispers, dragging an uncomfortable looking chair over to my bedside.

             
“What happened to David?” I ask, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

             
“He’s under arrest. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”