Struck in the Heart
Shay's laying broken and bloodied on an operating table, somewhere in this hospital that you've driven to dozens of times before.
Except this time, you were in the back of the truck. This time, you were clutching her hand and compulsively feeling for her pulse so much that the on-call EMT had to shove you away, casting a sympathetic look in your direction as he did so.
There was something in his eyes, a kind of understanding…and you wonder, looking back on it now, if he had read your mind - hours before even you understood the signs.
You slump forward in the stiff, uncomfortable chair and remember what it felt like, when you saw her being rushed away and you tightened up so horribly inside, your heart twisting and threatening to burst as your breathing cut short and you froze because -
you couldn't imagine living another day without the love of your life.
She's the goddamn love of your LIFE - how could you not realize this before? - and she could die today…and never know.
If she recovers…when. You flinch. When she recovers, you're not sure if you'll have the strength to tell her, even so. Grief and fear bring on hypothetical courage that you'd never feel if she were looking you in the face right now, her beautiful eyes searching inside your soul. Because now…now that you know, you'd be blinded.
All the same though, you'd live forever waiting for her to make a move. As long as the doctors come out right now and tell you that she's going to be fine, and she has the living, breathing chance to ever feel that way about you.
She has to be fine.
She's the goddamn love of your life, she can't die.