Fuck. I grip her hand tighter, my balance faltering. “By yourself?” My chest constricts, like I’m having a heart attack. Everything inside of me physically hurts. She’s been suffering with whatever this is for nine fucking years by herself? I blink several times, trying to process it, understand it.
“Everyone leaves.” The two words are whispered, almost inaudible. Yet, they still gut me.
“We’re not everyone. Whatever this is, we’ll help you through it.”
“That’s just it,” she shakes her head, still looking away, “there’s no getting through it. There’s no cure.”
Beside me, Brendan clenches and unclenches his fists before kneeling down. “Little Girl, we’re not going anywhere.” He tilts her head so she’s facing us. “You’re stuck with us, and we’re going to take care of you, so you better get used to it.”
A single tear slides down her cheek before Brendan wipes it away.
“Scootch.”
“What?” She blinks a few times.
Brendan stands up and motions for her to move. “Scootch over.” When she stares up at him unmoving, he picks her up and climbs in the bed beside her. Hugging her from behind, he nuzzles his nose in her hair. “We’re here for you.”
Eventually, I drag a chair over and sit down in it. Still holding her hand, I rest my head against her lap and close my eyes. Nine years. She’s been battling this nine years.
When the nurse comes in, neither of us make any attempt to move. Heaven and Hell could collide and crumble and we would both be right here, holding her and keeping her safe.
“Is . . . Is there a different medication you can give me?” Asra asks, her voice hoarse as she scratches her arm again with her free hand.
She shakes her head. “This is what Dr. Schultz prescribed. I can have her come in and check, though?”
Nodding, Asra closes her eyes and rests her head back against my brother while the nurse finishes checking all of the monitors.
A few minutes later, the doctor enters. Still the same one from before, I’m surprised she’s working this late. All business, she heads straight for the computer and checks a few things before turning to us. “How are you feeling, Asra?” Her kind, professional demeanor never cracks despite both my brother and I wrapped around her.
Asra stirs in Brendan’s arms before running her nails along her arms, again. “Itchy. Is there any way you can switch the medicine?”
I swear, if she keeps scratching like that, it’s going to make me start itching all over.
The doctor purses her lips. “We go over this every time you’re here. How’s your pain?”
“Um . . . Good, better. Probably a five.”
Brendan hugs her closer as my grip on her hand tightens. A five is good? Better?
My chest constricts. How much pain was she in, lying all alone on her bathroom floor? And for how long? I’m a worthless piece of shit for a neighbor. I should have checked on her sooner, not left her this morning.
“And your nausea?”
“That part’s gone.”
At least there’s some progress. At least Brendan and I did something right bringing her here.
Nodding, she asks a couple more questions, then checks all the machines Asra’s hooked up to. “I’d like to give it thirty more minutes, then we’ll ween you off the Promethazine. See if we can get that pain lowered a little more.”
“How long does she have to stay here?” Brendan speaks up, his rough voice giving away his concern.
“I’d like to monitor her for a few more hours. We’re still waiting on the results of one of the tests as well. Once I get that, I’ll know more.” After Asra nods, the doctor types something on the computer, then leaves.
Brendan jerks his head toward the spare hospital bed behind me. “You might as well get comfy. Looks like it’s gonna be a long night.”
He’s probably right, but no way I’m leaving her side. Not again. “I’m fine.” My back will hate me later, but until we can carry her out of here, I’m staying put. Bringing her hand to my lips, I place a kiss on it, then glance up at her.
She hasn’t thrown up since they started the IV. And she’s not convulsing anymore. Yet her forehead is still creased. A frown lines her perfect lips.And she’s still hugging her torso.