Bared Souls - Ellie Wade Page 0,86

back on the road, the lights ahead confuse me, taking on an abnormal shape. The red of brake lights flash, but it’s too late. I slam on my brakes and swerve to miss the line of stopped cars in front of me.

Pavement and lights flash before me and then the night sky disappears from view as the ground appears out the windshield before that too leaves. The car jolts to a halt, landing on its wheels. There’s a deafening thud and the creak of metal screeching. Glass breaking.

Mentally, I take stock of my surroundings. The sounds. The screams. The smell of grass and trees and something metallic. I will sensation to come—from my arms, legs, heart, anywhere. I’m numb, and I can’t feel anything.

Did I make it?

I open and close my eyes. My head pounds. It takes a moment before I can see or comprehend what happened, and when I remember, she is the only thing that matters. I force my head to turn toward Alma, and as she comes into focus, I wish I were dead.

“Nooo!” I cry. “No! No! No! Please, God, no!” I try to reach for her, but my arm won’t move, and when I look down, I see a bone protruding from my skin. “Please, take me. Please, take me,” I beg. My vision blurs—I think from tears, but I can’t tell. “Alma, baby, please. Alma, wake up. Please wake up.”

Her shoulders are hunched, and her torso and upper body are slouched forward against her seat belt. Her hair has fallen, shielding her face, and I can’t tell if she’s breathing. A tree branch broke through the window. Glass shattered everywhere. The end of the branch has impaled her abdomen. I don’t know how deep it goes. It’s impossible to see anything with all of the blood. She’s covered in more blood than I thought possible for her small frame to hold.

I’m going to lose her. This can’t be happening.

Please let this be a nightmare.

Wake up!

I can’t lose her.

“Alma, please.” Sobs erupt from my chest, and I try to reach her again.

I can’t feel her. I can’t see her face. I can’t see her chest moving.

There are voices. Lights. Directions called. Metal creaking.

I feel myself slipping into the darkness, and I welcome it. Without Alma, I just can’t …

The humming and quiet beeping seem familiar, and I try to place the sounds. My body hurts. A bone-deep soreness brings the memory of the accident back. My eyes pop open. I blink, taking in my surroundings.

Alma.

I try to reach for the IV in my hand to yank it out, but my arm isn’t cooperating. Peering to my side, I see the cast, and the image of my broken bone comes to mind. I move my IV’d arm toward my casted one and grab at the needle in my skin with my exposed fingers. They’re heavy and slow.

Fuck!

I raise my left arm to my mouth and yank at the cords with my teeth. The medical tape peels off, and the needle falls out. Once I’m free, I try to sit up. The room starts to spin, and I lie back down. A nurse walks into the room.

“Mr. Harding. What are you doing?” Her voice is concerned as she helps me lie back.

“I need to go,” I insist.

“No, you need to rest. You’re just waking up from surgery. You’re in no state to leave right now.”

“Where is she?” I yell.

“She’s right outside. Just let me get you situated, and I’ll let her come in.” She rubs an alcohol pad over the skin of my hand where the IV once was.

“She’s here?”

“Yes, she’s here. Just be calm, please.” She gets to work on reinserting a new needle into my hand.

“What happened?” I ask, closing my eyes to combat the pounding in my skull.

“You were in a car accident. You broke your arm, a rib, and punctured your lung. You also have a pretty serious concussion. You underwent surgery to set and cast your arm and fix your lung. You’ll recover completely, but you’re going to be pretty sore for a while.”

“No pain meds,” I bark out.

The nurse looks over to me. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m an addict. Don’t give me narcotic pain meds, please. None,” I tell her firmly. I can’t risk it. I won’t.

She purses her lips and nods in understanding. “Don’t worry, Mr. Harding. I’ll mark Tylenol and ibuprofen only on your chart. Those are safe.”

“Thank you.”

The nurse finishes inserting my IV and then checks the machine connected to