I couldn't stop the screams in my head; they completely overtook me. The practical side of my brain was crying, "Quit freaking out! Just stop and think this through!" but the rest of me wouldn't listen. It was happening. It was happening all over again and the whole fucked up nightmare I'd already survived was about start again. I couldn't do it. I couldn't lose him.
I clamored over Christina and a few other spectators until I reached the wall that separated us from the arena. Without a single logical thought, I pulled myself over the wall and leaped to the dirt floor just yards from where Four's barrel lay. Christina was yelling behind me, but I had no interest in anything else.
A crowd of cowboys and rodeo clowns had already gathered around him at that point. As I ran closer, Penny came bursting out into the arena as well. We exchanged concerned looks, but were quickly apprehended by security.
"Ladies, ladies. We need to keep the scene clear so medical personnel can pull him free."
"I have to see if he's okay," I said through gritted teeth as I fought tooth and nail to get past the large man keeping me from my injured friend. "Please!"
"He's my brother!" Penny cried. "You have to let me through!"
"Nobody's getting through until the situation is assessed by medical professionals. We need to make room for the ambulance."
They backed us away, but didn't make us exit entirely. I watched from a distance as they pulled him from the barrel, and a small crowd gathered around him to assess his wounds. From what I could see, he was awake, and he was crying out in pain. But I couldn't see well enough. I struggled with the security guard but he was a rock against my will. At last, one of the EMT's moved away from Four's body to guide the ambulance into the arena and that's when I saw it.
His leg was contorted at the knee so the bottom half twisted in a very grotesque direction. And that was all I could see because the rest of his body from his toe to his waist was completely drenched in blood.
My mind immediately journeyed right back. Every cell in my body felts squeezed to suffocation.
I stood at his doorway and knocked softly. "Can I come in?"
No answer. The glow of the dim hallway light made the violent atmosphere of his home all the more poignant. I tried the door handle, and it gave. I opened the door, expecting to see him passed out on his bed or cuddled up with the pillow over his head. But all I could see was a deepened, alarming shade of red. Everywhere. As if some disturbed soul had launched a huge bucket of red paint across the threshold and beyond every shadow of his room. I stepped in.
"What the fuck happened in here, Heath?" I asked with a laugh, my mind reeling for something other than reality to cling to. Three steps in, my foot hit something hard. I bent over and felt the grainy steel of the gun in my hand. I immediately dropped it and the room started to spin. I stood straight again and looked at the bed. Heath was on it alright. At least, most of him was…
"Miss! Miss! Are you okay? Do you need help?" The security guard had me by the arms and struggled to keep me standing. "Ma'am, maybe you should sit down for a minute."
"Heath!" I screamed. I saw his face blown to pieces; an uninvited portrait that haunted the depths of my psyche since that horrible day.
I grabbed the bedpost to hold myself straight, only to find it, too, was covered in the devastating shade of crimson. I pulled my hand off and turned it over so I was staring at it, palm up. His blood on my hand. His blood on my hands. His blood is on my hands…
I collapsed. Both in Heath's rancid bedroom and in the middle of the arena. Both scenes played out before me in equal time. The security guard held me fast as both Four and Heath were placed on a stretcher and lifted onto the ambulance.
I was dragged from Heath's bedroom screaming as the EMT's rushed inside, shouting orders that could have been spoken in a foreign language.
Christina finally reached my side and wrapped her arms around me, barking at the security guard to get someone to help.
A nurse hastily guided me to the front of Heath's house and sat me on the porch with a glass of water while chaos reigned at every turn.
I threw up. Voices tried futilely to calm me. And I escaped to a faraway place, a place where it was just me and an eternal, expansive, hollow white space. No hurt. No nothing.
My brain seemed to kick back into gear as I realized Christina was shaking me. "Tris! Wake the fuck up! We've got to get to the car and I can't carry you."
I looked over at her, bewildered. "He's gone," I muttered blankly.
"No, he's not. He's still here, and he's going to be just fine. But if we want to see him, we've got to get to the hospital."
"The blood. The blood was everywhere. It was my fault."
Christina placed her hands on either cheek and forced me to look her in the eye. "This is not a good time to have an existential crisis, Tris. You want to see Four? We have to go!"
"Where is the funeral?" My face crumpled with the words.
Christina finally gave in, her voice a forced sort of calm. "Let's not worry about the funeral, Tris, okay? Let's just get to the car. Can you stand up and walk with me to the car right now?"
Like a drone, I nodded. She helped me to my feet and I found a way to make them move. I didn't know where we were going. I didn't even know how long it took to get there. But as the car hummed down the interstate and some soft, homey tunes played on the radio, I slowly began the journey back to reality.
"Four's at the hospital." I stated.
Christina nodded.
I paused. "But we don't know if he's going to be okay."
"I'm sure he'll be fine, Tris. We just don't know what the extent of his injuries will be."
"So he's alive?" My mind screamed at the question; there was only one correct answer.
"Yes. He's alive."
I almost cried.
She placed her hand over mine as I released the bubbled up air that had been constricting in my lungs. "I don't know who Heath is, but this isn't him. This is a new situation and it's not the same. It will end differently. You don't have to go back and relive that."
My head turned slowly to gaze at her. "How do you always know what's wrong with me?"
"There's nothing wrong with you, Tris. And can we please stick to the relevant subject matter?" She glanced in the rearview mirror. "Penny, were you able to obtain an assessment of the situation? Did you overhear anything about his condition?"
Penny wiped tears from her eyes, a huge pile of tissues resting next to her on the backseat, fluffy and dainty, as if reflecting her natural persona. "I don't know, I don't remember. His leg just looked…it looked awful! What if they have to amputate it? And there was so much blood. Could he die from blood loss?"
I tensed and shook my head vigorously. "No. No death. No one is dying. I'm not going to do that. He-he-he...No. He has to be okay."
Christina shot a glare at the rearview mirror. "Can we please keep our dialogue firmly centered on reality right now, Penny? I need Tris to remain mentally stable. Nobody is dying. This is the twenty-first century – people don't croak over leg injuries anymore."
She didn't look nearly as sure of herself as her words indicated. But still, I would take any comfort I could get so I clung to her conclusive conjecture like a life vest.
We finally pulled into the hospital. "I don't know if I can go in, Chrissy. When I saw him in the arena…it was like Heath all over again. I haven't felt this awful in years. If I see him in the hospital…" I placed my hand over my mouth.
Christina opened my door and all but pulled me out. "They probably won't allow us to see him right away anyways, Tris. Again: this isn't Heath." She placed her hand on my shoulder. "And I will remind you of that as many times as you require, okay? But Four needs to know his friends are here for him. We need to be here so we can see him as soon as they'll let us."
I nodded.
Penny stepped beside me and grasped my hand like a grade school bestie. I held on tight, not daring to let go until we crossed the threshold of the building that held yet another man I loved on the brink of death.
It was a good solid hour before the drama in my mind took a much-needed break. The fear didn't escape, but the sense of inevitable dread was replaced by a stronger grasp on reality: Four was hurt, but he likely wasn't fatally injured. I feared for his future if his leg was amputated, but at the very least, he would be alive.
Four's dad and stepmom joined us and I vaguely remember being introduced. I fidgeted sporadically in my lap as they discussed the family members they had alerted and mused over whether or not Olivia had received the text message they sent. Christina occasionally rubbed my back in intended comfort. I felt bad – no doubt she needed as much support in that moment as I did – but I had never been the comforting kind. More than likely I'd mistakenly make the situation worse.
At last, a nurse in deep red scrubs approached us, clipboard in hand. I was deeply disenchanted with her clothing color choice – blood red? Really?
Her expression was hopeful, but the wrinkles at the edges of her eyes suggested there was still some concern to be discussed. I held my breath as she spoke, addressing Four's dad.
"You are Tobias Eaton's father?"
Marcus cleared his throat. "Yes. Yes, that's me. How is he?"
"He's doing very well considering his injuries. It was a puncture wound so we took him immediately to the ER to stop the bleeding and evaluate how serious the damage was." Her voice became stern. "He's very lucky: the horn missed the bone – just barely – so only skin, nerves, and muscle were damaged. We moved him straight into surgery to repair the nerves and reconnect the muscle and tissue. It'll be a long recovery but he'll be okay. He certainly won't be participating in anymore bull fighting activities in the near future. We might suggest he give up the practice altogether."
Marcus heaved a sigh and the rest of us visibly relaxed. "Well, that's wonderful news. I doubt we'll convince him to give up bullfighting, but I'm certain he'll be taking a long break." He smiled weakly.
The nurse grimaced. "A high risk activity like that can take a life very quickly. We've seen it here before. I hope this incident knocked some sense into him."
I looked at her with daggers in my eyes. What a judgmental bitch. Who was she to tell Four what to do? She's a fucking nurse, not a life coach. I opened my mouth to give her a piece of my mind, but Marcus stood and cut me off.
"Your recommendations are duly noted." A subtle tone of annoyance colored his voice; I was grateful to not be the only one who wanted to rip her lungs out. "Can we see him now?"
"Family only." She shot a glance at Penny, Christina, and I.
Marcus nodded. "Penny and Christina are family. Tris is basically family too; I'd like her to come as well."
The nurse crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "Absolutely not. We can't make exceptions in this case; he's still heavily sedated."
"It's okay," Christina announced. "I'll stay out here with Tris."
"No," I insisted. "You go see him. I'm fine. I could use some time alone."
Christina looked torn. "I'm not going to leave you out here alone to muse over all the worst-case scenarios."
I squeezed her arm. "I'm fine, Christina. Seriously. You should go see him. I'm going to relax and read an ebook or something. I could use the time to get my mind off all of this for a little while."
It was a lie. I wanted Christina there with me, but if she wanted to see Four even remotely as badly as I did, I couldn't deny her that opportunity. She was his real family, after all.
"You'll likely be able to see him in a few hours, if you like," the nurse reassured.
I nodded and gestured for Christina to follow the others. "We won't be long," she assured.
"Take your time. I've got a book on educational theory I've been meaning to dive into."
I couldn't help but feel jealous as they shuffled off to Four's room. I would have given my right arm – or right leg, as it were – to be there with them. I imagined that first moment seeing him after his accident. He would be so beaten and broken, far weaker than I'd ever before seen him. What would I even say? I'd probably just stand there like an idiot while his family did all the talking anyway. He and I didn't have a clear view of our relationship – how does a pair of wingman/wingwoman friends behave in such a situation?
I reached over to the table next to me where a set of magazines and children's books sat. My brain was far too burned out for any remotely intelligent reading so I selected the most colorful looking children's book and opened it up.
"But I Have You Now." I read the title aloud to myself.
Seemed like an odd title for a children's book, but who was I to judge? I opened it and started reading; five lines of poetry sat at the base of each page, the edges outlined with sketches of smiling angels, puffy clouds, and a slightly off-kilter but colorful child at the center, holding hands with a friend.
The day that you leave
I know I will cry
I will kick and I'll scream
I'll throw my hands high
But I have you now.
We play in the sand
We run through fields
Will you hold my hand?
Hold my orange peel?
Because I have you now.
We can still talk out loud
Run about at the park
Get lost in the crowd
Til you're gone in the dark
But I have you now
When the day comes
On the hospital bed
Your body like the crumbs
That fall from my bread
I won't know what to do
I'll feel lost and alone
No friend to run to
To bring to my home
By your grave I will stand
You with God in the sky
On my knees I will bend
With love that won't die
Because I had you then
My cheeks were soaked by the time I reached the end. Such a small story, written for such small people dealing with such big life challenges. And yet it spoke to my adult brain the way nothing else ever had. I had Heath. I had him for a long while. The memories would never fade; his death couldn't change that.
Yet, I had let it change everything. I had let it infect every connection, every relationship I had now, and all because I had decided that the pain of Heath's loss was not worth the love and the joy that we shared. If the love of my life hadn't been worth it, how could I have expected anyone else to be worth it?
But if I could change that…if I could embrace the time that I had with him; the time we spent holding hands, running around the park, wiping each other tears…
If I could do that, then maybe somewhere deep inside, I could embrace what I had now. What I had with Four.
I suddenly wanted to run to him, fall in his arms, feel them wrapped around me, and never let go. After everything I'd been through with Heath, for the first time in months, I realized how stupid I'd been. I was committed to avoidance of what I went through with Heath – but avoidance of what? Happiness? Love? And all the ups and downs that come with it. There were no circumstances that made that worth avoiding.
I stood up and walked to the hospital window, watching the comings and goings of men, women, families, children…all mourning loved ones left in precarious circumstances. How brave they were. To go through this, to suffer through someone else's pain knowing that it might all be for nothing. They knew more than I did. They were much stronger than me.
Perhaps it was time for me to leave behind the wiser mind of an adult, the result of trying times and subsequent misguided lessons. Maybe it was time to find the child in me that still trusted, still believed.
Still loved.