“Callie?” I whisper. “Callie baby,” I cry, but I can tell she’s slipped away. She’s definitely not breathing now.
It has been ages since I took a first aid course in school, but I do remember a little of what they taught, and I try to desperately recall how to administer CPR now. I go up on my knees so I’m over her body. I angle her head and pray I’m doing this right.
“No!” Katie screams, but I can’t deal with her right now. I start chest compressions, wincing as I do—not wanting to cause her more pain.
It feels like an eternity before the paramedics show up and take over. I follow them out. They won’t let me in the ambulance. I don’t want to waste Callie’s time arguing. Katie gets in the driver’s side of my rental, and I let her. I don’t think I could drive right now if I wanted to. They managed to get a pulse before loading her up. The police tried to ask us questions, but Katie told them she would answer everything at the hospital. I’m watching everything go on around me. All I can do is stare at my hands.
Hands that are covered in Callie’s blood….
CHAPTER 24
Callie
The light hurts my eyes.
Sound hurts my ears.
Breathing hurts everything.
Slowly—more slowly than I would have thought possible—I force my eyes to open. The beeping sound of machines surrounds me. As a CNA, I know they can’t be that loud, but they definitely seem it. I squint against the light, even though the room seems to be dark. I’m not sure how long it takes. Eventually, I’m able to open my eyes without being blind.
It surprises me to find that there’s just a dim light behind me on. The actual light for the room is off. My gaze moves to the window and it’s dark, too. I let my eyes drift closed again and try to access what’s happening.
I’m on oxygen. I can feel the cannula on my face and the slight, almost burning, sensation of having them. I hurt everywhere, but my face doesn’t feel as swollen as I thought it would.
Survive.
Tears sting my eyes because I really didn’t think I would. Memories of Mitch and what happened threaten to assault me, but I push them away. I can’t think about it right now.
I don’t want to think about it.
I never want to think about it again.
I don’t remember how I got here. Everything after the moment when Mitch stabbed me in the side and told me to die is pretty much blank. The pain had been so intense. Every time I took a breath, it felt like my body was filled with glass and it was cutting me from the inside out.
I try to bring my hand up to touch my face, but I can’t quite manage it. It feels so heavy. At first, I’m afraid I’m paralyzed. Then, after forcing myself to look, I see that my hand is in a cast.
My wrist.
My leg feels heavy, too. Is it broken? I don’t remember if it was. I look, but what I see makes my heart flip flop in my chest.
Mitch.
I feel myself trembling. I try to recoil, pain shoots through my body and I gasp as it takes my breath. My hand flaps around for the nurse’s call button. I can’t survive anything else from him. I can’t.
I feel around on the bed like a madwoman, but I can’t find the nurse’s call button like the ones on the beds where I work. I look around desperately. I yank off my oxygen, sitting up even though I know it’s going to hurt. I have to get away. I can’t take anymore. I moan from the pain, biting down on my lips to keep from screaming. I try to pull my leg out from under his head. I look around the room for something to use to defend myself. There’s nothing except a pitcher with a straw in it that I assume contains water. I struggle to grab it, pushing from the bed, pulling wires off as I go.
“Callie?”
Oh, God. He’s awake. I’ve got get out of here. I have to. I feel his arm snake around my waist, trying to pull me back down.
“Callie, stop,” he says, but I pull against him, wrapping my fingers around the handle of the pitcher, bringing it back to sling it toward Mitch’s head. Water goes everywhere. I can feel the cold liquid hit my side. Mitch doesn’t let go and the pain and exhaustion are so much, that I give up. I’m tired. Dying is the only way I’m going to get rid of him anyway. I’m tired of fighting.
“Callie, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
I snort a bitter sound, figuring there’s no reason to respond.
“Bluebird, look at me. You’re safe.”