Cleave

When I re-awoke, I was in an ambulance, so I must have only passed out for a few minutes at the most. I could hear sirens wailing, but I don't think they were coming from the ambulance I was travelling in. They must have ben coming from another one. One with Micah in. Or Max, I guess. I had no idea if he was injured in the crash or not but I didn't give a shit about him either way. He tried to kill my boyfriend. Tried to… For all I knew, he could have succeeded. The thought struck me like lightning and it had me gasping for breath, my heart constricting. I tried to sit up on the bed, but I was immediately pushed down by the two paramedics who were seated on either side of me.

“Stay still,” one of them said. “We're almost at the hospital.”

“Where's Micah?” I asked. “Where is he? Is he... Is he d –?”

“We don't know. You need to relax. Your heart rate is getting too high,” the other told me.

“I don't give a fuck about my heart rate; tell me he’s fucking okay!” I shouted, struggling against their hands that were still holding me down on the bed.

“Young man, we do not know about your friend! At this stage, we’re only concerned about you. Now, you calm down or we will have to sedate you,” the paramedic on my left, the man who had helped me out of the car, said forcefully. A couple of minutes went by of me fuming about not getting answers and the paramedics resting their hands on my shoulders to stop me moving before the ambulance slowed down and pulled into what I assume was the hospital.

When the ambulance stopped, the paramedics went into action to wheel me out of the ambulance and down a maze of hallways inside the hospital. Lights whirled all around me and there was a lot of noise – crying, shouting, beeping, etc. All the sounds and lights started to overwhelm me and my head started to throb painfully. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't get dizzy watching all the lights on the ceiling and only opened them again when all motion stopped and I was finally in a quiet room with only one unmoving light shining on me. Four people were there with me: the two paramedics from the ambulance (although they left soon after I opened my eyes), a middle aged woman wearing a white coat who I assumed was a doctor and a young nurse, who started to clean something on my forehead with cotton pads. When I realised she was cleaning blood off me, I tried to remember when I had hit my head, but came up blank.

“Can you tell me your name?” the doctor asked me once the nurse appeared to be finished cleaning me up. The nurse placed a couple of butterfly stitches on my forehead and covered it lightly with gauze before stepping away from me.

“Angel. Jerome. Angel Jerome. Is Micah okay? Where is he? My boyfriend, where is he?” I replied, trying to glance around the room, which I couldn't because I had a big foam thing around my neck.

“How old are you, Angel?”

“Fuck you, lady. Answer my question!” I shouted.

“You first. Answer my questions and then I will find out about your friend,” the doctor said, unamused at my outburst.

“Eighteen,” I muttered.

The doctor asked me a million more questions, which I tried to answer as evenly as I could while my temper continually bubbled underneath the surface. Just as I was about to just leap off the bed and go find Micah myself, the doctor told me that was enough for now and that my next stop was the X-Ray room to check out my ribs and collarbone, which according to her, were probably broken. That was a surprise, since I didn't feel any pain in either of those places. I must have frowned in confusion because she went on to tell me that I probably didn't feel pain right now because I was in shock.

I didn't argue when I was wheeled out of the quiet room and back into the hallways about half an hour later. I was too tired. My head pounding was starting to really get to me and I just wanted to pass out and sleep forever and wake up with this all just being a dream.

During the X-Ray process, feeling started to come back to my body and everything started to hurt. At first it was only a little bit of aching but as time went on and I was wheeled back to my original room and left to rest while the doctor promised to find out about Micah, it became sharp stabs of pain, particularly around the right half of my rib cage and collarbone. The pounding in my head got worse as well, until I was almost crying out with pain wracking my entire body.

The young nurse came in and put a needle with a tube attached in my arm and left for a few minutes before returning with a different doctor.

“I'm going to give you a sedative and some painkillers. They're going to make you drowsy and help you to fall asleep without pain,” he told me. The words took a few seconds to process and during that time, a syringe was already connected to the tube stuck in my arm and the plunger was already halfway pushed in.

“Wait! Wait, stop.” The doctor stopped what he was going and looked at me curiously. “I need to know about Micah. M-my boyfriend. The lady said she was going to find out for me…” Even when I was speaking I knew that the morphine was affecting me. I fought against it as much as I could. “Please. Please, I need to… To… To know…”

The doctor shook his head and said something, but I was already passing out and I didn't hear him.

---

Drew was sitting in a chair next to my bed when I woke up again. Light was starting to come in through the window to my room, telling me that I’d been asleep for a few solid hours at least. Drew was staring blankly at the wall next to me with a frown on his face and didn't even realise I was awake until I nudged his hand, which was resting on the bed next to me, with my own.

“Hey,” I said quietly when his attention was on me.

“Angel. I… God. Fuck. I'm so glad you're okay, man,” he managed to stutter out. “I'd hug you but you're… You're pretty banged up.”

“Have you heard about Micah?” I asked him. His face dropped. My heart clenched. “No. No, he’s not…” I couldn't even bear to say the word.

“He's not dead. But he… It's pretty… Um… Angel, I – I don't know if he… He's pretty bad, Angel. He's been in surgery and now he's in ICU. His dad said they don't know if he’ll pull through but they're praying. He hasn't woken up yet. I'm so sorry.”

I couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my face. This was my fault. If Micah died, it would be my fault. If I hadn't gotten involved with Max he would be perfectly fine. We would have gone to prom, we would have had a wonderful night with our friends and then we would have gone back to a nice hotel room to make love. But I was selfish and forced myself to be with Max so that I wouldn't be alone. I was a terrible fucking person and I deserved everything that I got and more, but Micah deserved none of it.

“Angel, stop it!” Drew’s harsh voice cut through my dark thoughts. “I know what you're thinking, but it's Max’s fault, not yours. You didn't do this. Max has been arrested and they're going to fucking punish him and I will not stand by and watch my best friend beat himself up for this.”

“But what if he dies… Drew, I don't know what I would do without him,” I said desperately.

“He won't.”

“You can't promise that!”

He sighed. “I know I can't. That was a stupid thing to say. But he’s strong, okay? He's going to fight.”

“I need to see him,” I said, and before I could be talked out of it, I pressed the button next to my bed to call a nurse into my room. Drew frowned, but didn’t say anything. He’s so used to my stubbornness that he knew there was no point in arguing with me.

We waited in silence for a few minutes before a nurse came into my room to find out what I wanted.
“I need to see Micah,” I announced before he even had a chance to speak. “Where is he?”

I started to push the bed covers off of my body so that I could leave. I winced at the pain shooting through my body, but ultimately ignored it as I concentrated on getting off the bed. The nurse sprang into action and pushed me back gently until I was back in the same position I was before.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you get up. I have to check with your doctor before I can do that.”
The nurse picked up my chart and looked it over before looking back at me. “I’ll speak to Dr. Kirney and find out what she thinks,” he told me. “But at this stage, I don’t like your chances much of seeing your friend.”

“Boyfriend,” I snapped. I was getting sick of everyone calling Micah my ‘friend’, plus I was frustrated that I probably wouldn’t be able to see him. It was like everyone was intentionally keeping me away from him.

“I’m sorry, boyfriend,” the nurse said, un-phased by my retort. “I’ll check with Dr. Kirney and let you know when I can, okay?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, and the nurse left. “This fucking sucks. I just… I just need to see him.”

“I know, Angel, but you have to remember that you’re pretty injured as well and they have to do what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me is seeing Micah,” I said stubbornly. I moved to cross my arms over my chest for good measure, but forgot about my injuries and let out a yelp of pain. “For fuck’s sake! I can’t even pout properly without it fucking hurting!”

Drew let out a quiet snort. He was trying to be kind by not laughing but I knew it was difficult for him. And honestly? I knew that what I said was totally ridiculous and I would’ve laughed at me, too. In fact, that’s what I did, which set Drew off and we spent a good few minutes laughing until I was in so much pain I could barely breathe. We only managed to contain ourselves when Dr. Kirney came into the room and looked at us like we’d lost our minds.

We both calmed down quickly, and waited for Dr. Kirney to speak.
“Angel, Micah is very sick at the moment and is under strict monitoring. His family can only be with him for short periods of time,” she began, but I cut her off before she continued.

“I don’t care how long I get; I just need to see him. Please,” I pleaded. “I’ll do anything.”

The doctor gave me a sympathetic look. She sighed. “It isn’t as simple as that, I’m afraid. His mother doesn’t want there to be any outside family visitors and…”

“His mother?! That’s fucking bullshit. She fucking disowned him. What does his dad say? Listen to him, he…”

“His father agrees, for now.”

“What?”

“He said that he is fine with you visiting when you’re up to it. But you’re not. Not right now. Your ribs are badly bruised and you’ve got a broken collar bone, plus whiplash and concussion. The pain is evident on your face, and…”

“Then drug me up, wrap me in bubble wrap, take me in a wheelchair, I don’t fucking care. I am up for it. More than I’ve ever been up for anything. Please. Please, I need to see him,” I begged, and finally Dr. Kirney’s face softened. She studied me for the longest couple of minutes ever.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll talk to his parents and organise for you to see him.”

“Thank you,” I said, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“It’ll only be for about five minutes though,” she warned me. “He can’t have visitors for long.”

“I know. Thank you,” I repeated. Dr. Kirney nodded once at me, then once at Drew, and then left the room.

---

It was another two hours before the male nurse from before came into my room wheeling a wheelchair in front of him. I had just woken up from a short nap while Drew went home to collect a few things for me to occupy myself while I was stuck in the hospital, but he was back and I had been awake for about fifteen minutes before the nurse came in. I groaned at the sight of the wheelchair. I didn’t need a goddamn wheelchair. My legs worked fine.

“You told them you’d use it,” Drew said, smirking.

“Whatever,” I muttered. I turned to the nurse. “Let’s get on with it then.”

It wasn’t a huge struggle to get from my bed to the wheelchair, but it did hurt a bit. I guessed it would take a few days before any sort of movement stopped hurting. The nurse made sure I was comfortable before he started wheeling me out of the room. Drew called after me that he was going to get some coffee from a place across the road, and then I was off, zipping down the halls until we arrived at a ward marked Intensive Care Unit. The nurse pushed open the doors and a waiting room came into view. Seated there were a few people, including Elise, Georgia and Sara, Micah’s sisters, looking grave and tired. Georgia looked up as we came in and leapt to her feet.

“Angel!” she said as she raced over to me and gently wrapped her arms around me, luckily avoiding my injuries. She must have been told what happened to me beforehand. She studied my face as Elise and Sara came over to join us. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need to see him,” I told them quietly, my voice breaking on the last word.

They nodded and moved to take their seats once more as the nurse wheeled me into another room in the ward and I immediately spotted Micah’s dad sitting in a chair next to his son’s bed. He had his eyes trained on Micah’s chest, which rose and fell slowly and steadily, aided by a respirator.

“Mr. Gerard,” I said quietly. Micah's dad slowly peeled his eyes away from his son to look at me. “I’m so sorry. I feel responsible, if I hadn't –"

“No, Angel. This isn't your fault,” Mr. Gerard said, standing up and coming towards me. He grabbed one of my hands that was resting on the wheelchair arm and patted it lightly. “You didn't do this.”

He let my hand go and came round to the back of the wheelchair. The nurse that pushed me in stepped away so that Mr. Gerard could wheel me closer to Micah's bed. Micah was surrounded by machines that were all connected to him in various places. I didn't know what they all did, but as long as they helped him stay alive, that was all that mattered. He looked so broken. His pale skin, which normally looked hydrated and full of life, was now a light grey colour, and there were small lacerations all over him. He also had a large white bandage on his head which I assume was covering up the gash in his forehead that I'd noticed in the car. Besides the small cuts everywhere, he was clean – there was no sign of the blood that was coming out of his ear and nose earlier.

If I didn't know better, I could have thought Micah was asleep. His face was peaceful, as if he was having a pleasant dream and was going to wake up in the morning refreshed and ready for a new day.

But I did know better.

I reached out to take his hand. It was cool to the touch. I squeezed gently, hoping and wishing that he would squeeze my hand back, but there was nothing.

“He's in an induced coma, Angel,” Mr. Gerard said quietly. “The impact fractured his skull and they put him under so the swelling in his brain has a chance to go down. The doctors are hopeful that they can pull him out within a few days, but it's hard to know for now.”

I nodded quietly as tears began to fall. “What else?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“His pelvis is broken. Two ribs as well, and whiplash. They're fixable; it's just the head injury that's…” Mr. Gerard’s voice broke. I could tell that he had been trying to hold himself together for a long time. “I'll… I'll give you a couple of minutes alone with him.”

I waited until he left the room before I spoke.
“I love you so much, baby. I… I… I need you to wake up, okay, so I can tell you properly. You can't go now. Not after everything you've been through. We're supposed to have a proper life together. You and me. That's what you fought for all last year, and you need to keep fighting for it now. I believe in you, and I believe in us and we can't let Max fuck everything up. He can't win… He can't…”

By then, I was crying so hard I could barely understand myself. My ribs were aching as I gasped in breaths, and I couldn't continue speaking. Instead, I just held Micah's hand, rubbing my thumb across the smooth skin.

Eventually, my time was up, and the nurse and Micah's dad came back in, followed by his mother. Her eyes narrowed at me, but I just ignored her as I lifted Micah's hand and pressed my lips to it.
“I love you so much. Wake up for me,” I murmured against it, before kissing it once more and then letting it drop gently beside his body.

Nobody spoke as the nurse grabbed the back of my wheelchair and started wheeling me towards the door, but just as we were about to pass my boyfriend’s parents, Mr. Gerard rested a hand on my shoulder, making the nurse stop.

“He loves you,” Mr. Gerard told me. His wife let out a quiet huff of disbelief, and I turned to her. I didn't glare, I didn't stick my middle finger up at her and tell her to go fuck herself, I didn't try to run her toes over with my wheelchair, even though I truly wanted to do all of those things. Instead, I just gave her a small smile.

“I love him, too,” I replied simply. “And nothing is going to change that.”

---

Four more days passed.

They passed slowly, painfully, and not much changed.

I was allowed to go home after the second day with a bunch of different painkillers, but I didn't. I became a resident of the waiting room in the ICU. I was rarely allowed to go in to see Micah, but that didn't stop me from wanting to be there.

His doctors said that the swelling in his brain had gone down slightly after the third day, but there was still concern that it hadn't gone down more. He didn’t need his respirator anymore and we were told that his vitals were looking good, so we were hoping that he would be waking up soon.

I actually got excited on day three when I was in there visiting him, talking to him and holding his hand, when I noticed his eyes fluttering a little. I'd called the nurse in a hurry, thinking that he was going to open his eyes at any moment and be back in the land of the living, but it wasn't like that.
The nurse told me that coma patients can have uncontrollable movements in their bodies that make it seem like they're awake, when they're actually still completely comatose. That information broke my heart all over again and I made sure not to get my hopes up in future when his hand would twitch or he would let out a little groan.

Day Five.

Day Six.

Day Seven. I was starting to lose hope that Micah would ever wake up. It had been a full week.

Day Eight, Nine, Ten.

“The swelling has reduced significantly. We’re going to start to ease him off the medication to bring him out of the coma. We can't say how he will be until he wakes up, but we’re hopeful…” the doctors said.

Day Eleven.

Day Twel-

“Angel!”

Elise said loudly into my ear as I dozed in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs that had become my regular bed.

“Angel!”

“What?” I mumbled, my voice laced with sleep. I reached up to rub my eye and let out a yawn.

“He’s awake.”