Coma

He looked the same as he did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. Mark Skiles had been in a coma for three days straight now. His brown hair lay limp on his forehead instead of spiky like he normally styled it. His dark brown eyes were closed almost peacefully. He had a long cut on his face that ran from his temple to his chin. Bruises and cuts covered every inch of his body.

“Ms Graham?” the doctor called, walking into the room with his clipboard.

Emma Graham turned, still holding her fiancé’s hand, at the sound of her name. The five feet, five inches twenty two year old had seen better days. Her wavy, strawberry blond hair was greasy and thrown lazily into a messy bun. Her blemish free face looked horrible because it was too pale. She had large bags under her pale green eyes from barely sleeping the last few days. Emma didn’t cry in public, so she had yet to cry because she had been at the hospital holding Mark’s hand since she got the call about the accident, but you could tell she was holding back tears. Her eyes were blood-shot and her naturally long eyelashes were wet from the pushed back tears. “Yes?” she said quietly.

“We just got the results back,” the grey haired doctor said. Emma had been told that Dr. Ryan was the best doctor around. As long as Mark was okay, she didn’t care who the doctor was. “It appears that Mr. Skiles has suffered from serious brain damage. I am sorry to inform you that there is a high chance that he won’t wake up. I just wanted to let you know, so you can prepare yourself incase that happens. I am going to try everything I can to get Mr. Skiles here to wake up,” the doctor said firmly.

All Emma could do was nod. A high chance that Mark wouldn’t make it? What would she do without him? Her and Mark had been together since she was seventeen and he was eighteen. She loved him with every fiber of her being.

“I would also like to suggest that you go home, get some sleep, food, and take care of yourself,” Dr. Ryan said.

Emma was just getting ready to get in bed when her cell phone rang. She answered it without looking at the caller ID. She figured it was Mark saying he had arrived at the hotel safely. Mark always called Emma when he arrived at his destination whenever he traveled. “Hey, I take it you made it?” she said into the phone.

“Is the Emma Graham?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

Emma immediately sat up. “Yes, this is her. May I ask whose calling?” Emma had always been taught by her mother to be polite no matter what.

“This is Sherriff Carlton. I’m afraid to inform you that there’s been an accident involving your fiancé.”

“What? Is he okay? What happened? Where is he?” Emma immediately fired off questions.

“I don’t know for sure,” the officer said, “but I know he is being transported to St. Anthony’s as we speak.” Emma hung up the phone and drove as fast as she could to the hospital, not caring one bit that she was in a tank top and shorts. Mark was far more important than how she looked.

Emma had to wait three hours before she could see Mark because he was taken into surgery to drain the blood that was putting pressure on his brain. The officers couldn’t tell for sure what happened, but they did know that his car flipped at least three times. Emma had been at Mark’s side ever since he exited the ER, holding his hand, never letting go incase he woke up.

“I can’t leave,” she said to the doctor, not looking at him. “What if he wakes up and I’m not here?”

The doctor sighed. He was used to this reaction when it came to patients in comas. “Ms Graham, I can assure you that I will call you personally if he wakes up. For now, the best thing to do would be for you to go home and take care of yourself.”

Emma knew the doctor was right. She would go home, eat, take a shower and a quick nap, and then she would be back to the hospital. “Okay,” she said. Emma kissed Mark’s lifeless cheek and squeezed his hand before he left his room and hurried home.