Guilt. That was what gnawed away at Ben. Guilt. Worry. Anger.
If only he'd listened to Jeff. Did what he said. Maybe Em wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe she'd be away from that dad of hers. Away from the hospital. Far, far away from all this crap. Was it even her dad? Maybe it was her mom. But she'd never mentioned either of them.
The drive had been agonizing for both of them. Em had been in terrible pain the whole time and Ben had been a nervous wreck. And then they got pulled over by a cop. Of all the times... Thankfully Ben was good at smooth talking them. He'd told him his girlfriend got hurt by her dad and she needed to get to the hospital ASAP. His girlfriend... If she could even remember that Em would strangle him when she woke up.
Hours and hours. All this waiting for what? He had no news and was sure that he'd rip someone's head off pretty soon. The cop was getting the statements ready and Ben had never felt so completely alone.
After pacing the waiting room like a caged lion for God only knows how long, one of the nurses called him back to see Em.
He took a few feeble steps into the room and stopped dead. Em lay on her hospital bed, hooked up to just about every machine known to man. She looked so weak, so fragile, like the smallest touch would snap her in half. An IV dripped steadily and in her thin, papery hospital gown he could see just how skinny and bony she really was. She looked like a girl starved, and her tiny frame was covered in bandages and bruises. So many stitches... And to top it all off she was breathing with the help of an oxygen mask. She was a far cry from the strong, fiesty girl he'd first met.
He was on the verge of tears. Scratch that, a few hot tears did escape, slipping down his cheeks and splashing on the tile floor. His phone rang but it sounded far away. The nurse's full list of injuries sounded more like a monotone drone than actual words. How could this happen. How could someone do this to their own child... He didn't understand. He didn't want to understand.
Soundlessly he slipped into the plastic chair at Em's bedside and took her small hand in his. He gave it a single, gentle squeeze, as if he were handling a porcelain doll and said a few silent prayers. "Please be okay," he murmured with a raspy voice. "Please, Em. Please be okay. I need you to be okay..."
Why wasn't she waking up? He hadn't picked up anything about a concussion in the various hospital chatter that had gone on. The sedatives should have worn off... Maybe she was just tired. Exhausted. Maybe... No, she had to be. She had to be okay. He found himself checking her pulse constantly, making sure he could still see the steady rise and fall of her chest. He couldn't lose her.
The nurses tried to get him to sleep, tried to bring a cot in for him, even. When Lisa showed up in a panic, he still wasn't snapped out of his daze. He didn't even have the heart to relay the whole situation to her. He stayed at Em's bedside, praying for a miracle. Praying that she'd wake up and praying that she'd be okay.