30. Zak

Sirens scream, piercing my eardrums through the fog that's set into my brain. I wince, the pain assaulting my head harsh and sharp. The lights are bright, too bright. My eyelids flutter but don't open. A throbbing ache consumes the left side of my skull.

Confusion blankets my conscious thoughts.

Where am I?

Still, I can't open my eyes.

Cant, won't. Don't really know.

Fragments of memories splinter my brain. Red light, screeching tires, crushing metal. My chest quakes with short gasps of breath. Low voices surround me.

"…bp is high…no response to touch…"

Is someone touching me?

I want to ask, but my mouth ignores my mind.

My eyes open a crack then slam shut. Nope. Too fucking bright.

I keep them squeezed shut. My fingers grip the sides of whatever I'm lying on. With a racing pulse, I use the remaining slivers of energy to sit up, but my arms give out and buckle before my head can lift from the pillow.

"Easy, buddy," a smooth voice from in front of me says. "We're gonna take good care of you. Just stay still."

"I need to sit up," I mutter, squinting at the blurred face. "And can you shut off the lights?"

"Just keep your eyes closed and rest. We'll be there soon."

"Be where? And can you help me sit up?"

Silence. I try again but I can only raise my back. It's like there's nothing grounding me to what I guess is a stretcher, like only the top part of my body is helping me move. I swallow hard, trying again. My fingers clamp onto the sides of the stretcher.

If I dig my heels into the mattress, I'll get enough leverage to sit up.

I try again but only feel my back pressing into the mattress.

Panic bubbles in my chest.

I wiggle my toes.

At least, I think I am.

"I can't feel my legs or my feet," I choke out.

Another pause of silence.

My eyes fly open, and I yelp in pain.

"Why can't I move my legs?"

"Sir, you need to relax. Just stay still. We'll be there soon."

Sweat beads on the back of my neck. "Be where?" I rasp.

"St. Michael's." The EMT has a grave look on his face. "Do you remember what happened?"

My heart thunders in my chest. "The light…a car came out of nowhere…then I was floating."

"You probably felt that when we were wheeling you over to the ambulance. You were knocked out from the force of the crash. Your head hit the side window pretty hard."

I raise my hand and graze the left side of my head. My fingertips find a huge bump, and it fucking hurts.

"I can't move the bottom half of my body." I repeat the words but still, they don't respond.

Am I fucking paralyzed?

Fear grips me. I clench my fists tight, holding the sheets in my sweaty palms. The next few minutes pass by in a blur. Or maybe I just passed out again.

I'm moving again. Floating. My heart erupts in my chest. I wiggle my toes. At least, I think I do since I can't feel a goddamn thing. I poke my legs with my fingertips as I'm wheeled through large red double doors.

Fucking nothing.

My throat constricts, sweat pebbling my skin.

Faces with pinched expressions hover over me.

"Let's get him in for a CT scan ASAP."

I'm rushed down a hallway and around a corner and into a room. Two orderlies lift me onto a table. A doctor in a white coat talks to me about what's going to happen next. But white noise fills my ears, drowning out his words. I take a few deep breaths to control my racing heart, but nothing helps.

"We're going to slide you into the machine now, Zak," someone says. "You'll hear loud banging noises, but you need to stay perfectly still."

"Am I paralyzed?" I blurt.

"We're going to find that out after we evaluate these images," a nurse says. "We'll know more soon. Just relax."

I swallow a snort. Relax. Is she fucking kidding me?

Time stands still while I'm in that tube. I want to move, I want to fucking scream, but I can't do anything except lie here, tormented by my thoughts while my temples throb harder from all the banging and clanging.

It feels like a lifetime has passed before I'm finally pulled out of the tunnel.

"What did you see in the images? What's wrong with me?" My voice rises, panicked gaze going from the tech to the nurse and back again.

They exchange a look and then turn to me.

"I really can't say. The radiologist will evaluate the images and talk to you."

I glare at the tech, my blood bubbling to the point where it might just spew out of my pores. "How long?"

"I'll contact him right away," the nurse says. "Just try to relax."

Again, with that fucking word.

"Let me ask you this," I seethe. "If you might be paralyzed, how fucking relaxed do you think you'd feel?"

She stares at me, her jaw hanging open.

I collapse back onto the pillow underneath my head. "Sorry," I grumble with a deep sigh.

The nurse and an orderly wheel me back to my room. My mother jumps out of the chair when she sees me. She rushes over to the gurney and hugs me tight.

"Thank God you're okay." Her eyes are red, and tears stain the makeup on her cheeks. "I was so worried."

"Excuse us, ma'am. We're going to lift him onto the bed now," the orderly says.

Mom steps away from me, wringing her hands together. Another guy rushes in and the two of them manage to move my dead weight ass onto the hospital bed.

The nurse smiles. "I'll make sure the doctor comes in as soon as he gets the results of your scan."

Then she disappears before telling me to relax. A-fucking-gain.

Mom sweeps her hand over the top of my head, wincing when she sees my smashed-up face. "I was so scared when I got the call. What happened?"

"I don't remember much."

Imaginary chains wrap tight around my heart, pulling hard.

Lies.

I remember everything leading up to the accident. And I really wish I could forget it all.

"I can't move my legs, Mom." A knot lodges in my throat. "They did the scan to figure out why."

"Oh my God," she whispers, her hand flying up to her mouth.

I can't think of words to say that'll comfort her. My body is beaten to shit, my heart and soul pretty much shattered beyond repair. I don't have a damn thing for her.

I wish with everything in me that I'd been knocked in the head harder, that I'd suffered amnesia or anything that would make me forget what led up to the accident.

Instead, I'm being tortured by the fact that I can't move, but my mind is more alert than ever.

Who the fuck did I ever piss off?

Time stretches. Minutes feel like hours before anyone comes by to do more than check my vitals. I pretend to sleep, except splintered memories blast through my mind like pinballs, making my head ache even more than it already does.

Mom rubs the side of my arm while I lie here. I keep my face turned toward the door, the knot in my throat the only thing plugging all the rage I want so badly to spew.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize this is all my fault. Every bit of anger, every shred of disappointment, every sliver of rejection that plagues me. I fell down this rabbit hole because I left myself wide open to it all.

I knew from the beginning that Matt and I could never be. And tonight, I fell right back into my old patterns because he said the right things.

Saidthe right things.

But he didn't come after me.

He didn't apologize for hurting me.

All he cared about was his precious reputation, not anyone who'd been suckered into believing that he cared about them.

A knock at the door jars me. My eyes fly open as the door cracks.

My hearts beats so hard, it nearly bursts out of my chest.

With a heavy head and even heavier heart, I grind my teeth, clenching the bedsheet with every bit of strength I have.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I growl.