Page 79 of Downfall

You have to open your eyes, baby.

When I see the light again, it’s brighter than before, and there’s a shape. A square shape like a window. I try my hardest to concentrate on it, forcing the panes to appear, constructing the image in my mind until it forms in front of me. Finally, it’s there. A window with sunshine seeping through the glass, creating shadows that spill along the walls. Then there’s warmth. Not from the sunshine, but against my palm. I squeeze back, but nothing happens.

Anxiety claws up my throat as I realize that I don’t know where I am. There’s something tugging at my mouth and my head feels like it’s going to explode. My heart starts beating frantically, the beeping getting faster. I need to open my eyes all the way. If I can just open my eyes, it will be okay. That’s what the voice has been saying this whole time, anyway.

I try again, and finally, my eyes peel open, the blurry figure coming into focus. Dark hair falls along the side of my blanket, an arm, decorated with black ink, slung against my legs. I lift my hand, and his hand stays with mine because our fingers are interlaced. His soft breathing fills the room, his back rising and falling with each inhale. I sigh in relief, my heart slows, and with it, the beeping goes back to its previous cadence.

Declan.

He’s here with me. He didn’t leave. He’s right by my side, and he looks so peaceful. I shouldn’t wake him, but I want to hear his voice. I try to say his name, but all that comes out is a croaking sound.

“Easy,” someone says from the other side of the room. “You have a breathing tube in, so you can’t talk right now, but we can remove it right away.”

The person attached to the voice comes into view. It’s Emory. She wears light blue scrubs with her hair tied in two neat French braids, and her glassy eyes are filled with tears.

My own eyes must portray my confusion because she speaks again.

“Sky.” Her voice is shaky, emotion clinging to every syllable. “You’re awake. I—I was so worried.”

My gaze strays from her to Declan, then back to her in question.

“You’re at Emberfield Memorial, Skylar. You were in a car accident and had to have emergency surgery. Do you remember anything from that night?”

Fractured pieces of memories float through my subconscious, but I can’t fit any of the fragments together. I remember having sex with Declan and then falling asleep. My phone chimed with a text that woke me up, but I can’t remember who it was from or what it said. I remember putting my clothes on and walking out the door, and then…nothing.

“It’s okay,” Emory says, reading my mind. “Temporary amnesia is completely normal when you’ve suffered traumatic injuries.”

I look back at Declan, now noticing that there’s dark, dried blood on his gray shirt. My eyes go wide as I look up at Emory for answers.

“He’s fine,” she assures me. “He needed a few stitches for the cut on his ribs from climbing through the car window to get to you, but other than that, he has no injuries. You were alone in the car when you hit the tree.”

I try to make sense of everything she’s saying, but my brain is still foggy and slow, like it can’t catch up in real time. And it keeps getting stuck on one thing.

Declan climbed through broken glass to get to me.

“He hasn’t left you,” she goes on. “Trust me, we’ve all been begging him to go home to take a shower or at least change out of his bloody clothes, but he refuses.”

Tears prick my eyes and my throat swells at the thought. He found me. He must have found me if he crawled through the car window. Was I unconscious when he got to the scene of the accident? Did we talk? Did he stay with me until the ambulance came? Was I dying in his arms? I have so many questions whirling through my head and no way to ask them.

I point to the breathing tube, and Emory walks over. “Let me page the doctor on call, and we’ll get that out.” She starts to walk through the glass door, but turns back, giving me a relieved smile.

A few minutes later, Declan begins to stir. His hand tightens around mine as he lifts his body, still groggy from sleep, and when his eyes finally connect with mine, he blinks as if what he’s seeing is in his imagination. His mouth opens, but then closes, like if he speaks, the illusion will be shattered. I nod, a tear breaking free and rolling down my cheek.

“Firefly.” His voice is still rough from sleep.

I nod again, and he brushes his hand against my cheek as if he’s checking to make sure I’m real. “You’re awake?”

I move my head up and down for a third time because it’s all I can do. I want so badly to tell him that it’s okay, but I can’t. So I keep nodding, tears streaming down my face.

“Baby.” He wipes the moisture with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t cry. You’re okay. You woke up. Everything is okay now.”

Even though he was just sleeping, it looks like he hasn’t been doing much of that recently. His hair is a mess of dark brown locks, not exactly wavy, but not quite straight either, and there are purple rings beneath his red-rimmed eyes. Even so, he’s so beautiful, just looking at him makes my chest ache.

“Skylar.” He reaches out to cup my other cheek, but just as he does, the door opens.

“Ms. Galloway?” A woman wearing scrubs and a white coat asks as she walks in. Galloway. I never changed my name because this was never supposed to last longer than it took for me to turn twenty-five. I don’t even know when that is now. How long have I been here? Did my birthday come and go while I was sleeping?

I tip my head, and Declan moves his hand away from my cheek. I immediately miss the warmth of it and the soothing sensation of his thumb wiping away my tears.