Page 149 of Requiem
I press my forehead back to the edge of her mattress, trying to steady the shaking in my hands. I feel like I can barely keep myself upright. “You’re awake,” I breathe. “Ugh, thank god.”
Her lips part, but nothing comes out yet. She tries again, and this time it’s barely a sound. “You…you’re here.”
I let out a sound that’s like a laugh and a broken exhale as my thumb strokes lightly over her knuckles. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m here. I’m always right here, baby.”
Her fingers tangle in my hair once more, a smile forming on her lips when I reference the lyrics to our song.
I swallow again, forcing my voice to stay steady for her. But it doesn’t, because tears are rolling down my cheeks. “We did it, Em. We escaped.”
An exhausted sound leaves her, like it was supposed to be a short laugh.
“And Micah’s okay,” I add quickly, because I know her. I know that’s the first thing she would ask if she could remember everything. “He made it. Heather is with him.”
Her smile grows as her fingernails scratch soothingly on my scalp.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” I admit quietly. “I thought I was gonna have to…” I can’t finish the sentence.Bury her.
“I’d—I’d never leave you,” she whispers, and it triggers a sob from me.
I press my face into the white blankets and cry, one hand squeezing hers and the other rubbing her arm.
***
After a while of us sitting together in comforting silence, the door opens, and Emma’s nurse steps inside. She’s older, with kind blue eyes and short, ash-blonde hair. When she speaks, it’s with a thick Russian accent.
“Ah…you are awake,” she says gently, placing her hands on her hips. “This is very good.”
Emma’s fingers, still loosely threaded into mine, shift faintly at her presence.
I don’t want to move. Not even slightly. But the nurse is already stepping into the space between us and the machines, her hands moving with care as she checks the monitors and adjusts things, all while keeping her focus on Emma.
“I am going to need just a little space, yes?” she asks softly, her gaze flicking between us.
Emma’s hand tightens faintly in mine in an instinctive hold that makes my chest tighten.
I lean closer, just enough that my voice can reach Emma without being too loud. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes drift toward me again, and she nods.
The nurse moves in carefully, adjusting the blanket around Emma’s shoulders, checking her wrist, speaking in that calm, clinical rhythm that nurses and doctors do. “Can you tell me your name, sweetheart?” she asks. I know she knows it, but she’s just making sure Emma does.
“Emma,” she whispers.
“Good,” the nurse replies immediately, smiling with visible relief. “And do you know where you are?”
Another pause follows. “Hospital.”
“Yes,” the nurse says quietly. “Very good. You have many people with you. People who love you very much.”
That makes me smile.
Emma’s expression softens, and she looks at me.
The nurse finishes her checks with a final glance at the monitors as she steps back from the bed. “She is doing better than expected,” she says, almost to herself, before looking at Emma again with a small, reassuring smile. “You are very strong. It is good to see you awake.”
Emma gives the faintest smile in return. “Can I see Heather soon?” she asks, her voice quiet but clearer now. “She’s my best friend.”
The nurse nods without hesitation. “Yes. Soon. She is very close.”
