Sorry about the mishap last chapter everyone! Hope this one makes up for it. this one has a bit of a time skip and focuses on Zach's turmoil during Cammie's situation. Hope you like it! Read. Enjoy. Review.

Two Months Later

After the incident with the ice skates, I feel into a slump. For months, I didn't visit Cammie. The others kept me updated on her condition. I spent most of my time at local bars; blowing whatever money I could on alcohol. I flirted with random strangers but I never hooked up with any of them. Most of them thought I was single until I would say something about my wife being in the hospital. After that, they'd just slap me and then storm away. I'm pretty sure my cheek is permanently bruised.

One night, I got caught trying to hook up with this one girl who looked almost exactly like Cammie before the accident. That was the night that Grant had come looking for me when I did come home at my usual drunken stupor hour. He found her and I downing shots in the bar a couple of blocks from his house. He could see she was all over me, and I all over her, and proceeded to rip me from her. She complained, but he continued to drag me away. I had yelled some sultry comment back to her and she giggled. Grant yanked on me harder.

He eventually pulled me out onto the street and shoved me into the car. A group of people had followed us out waiting for a bar fight and groaned when he got in the driver's side instead. Once he started the car, I puked on myself. I'm not proud of many of the things I had done in my days of drinking. That night Grant beat the living crap out of me, showing no mercy. He yelled profanity at me and then threatened to kick me out if I continued doing what I was doing. He threw out all the alcohol he had in his house including the wine.

Bex came home from visiting Cammie to find me bruised and bloody on my bed and Grant in a furious rage, storming about the house. She asked him what happened and he told her that I almost had sex with the Cammie-look-alike. Bex gave a sigh and then shook her head at me. She didn't try to hit me, she didn't yell at me, all she did was shake her head like a parent disappointed at their child. I almost wanted Bex to beat me up. If she did, then at least I'd know that she's not completely gone, that part of her feisty spirit wasn't completely gone. I wanted her to at lest yell at me.

The next day, Grant found me huddled over the porcelain throne. He threw a white button up shirt at me in disgust. Once I had emptied the remaining contents of my stomach and taken a few more painkillers than recommended, I slipped on the shirt and a pair of tan pants. I didn't ask Grant where we were going because I assumed we were going to the hospital, but I was wrong. He took me to church and he had me talk to the pastor about my problem. The pastor listened and as I talked about it more, I felt more of the grief and pain being released. The pastor nodded his head and had me sit down in one of the pews with him. He told me to bow my head and speak to God and tell him what happened. He told me that God has a plan for everyone. Though some may be more difficult than others, he has a plan for each one of us. My plan is to stay strong for those around me.

I felt silly bowing my head and speaking to air. I had never been to church. Growing up with a terrorist mother will do that to you. I guess mass murder isn't widely accepted in holy places. The pastor encouraged me to pray though. Eventually, I had had enough. Grant sat in the pew behind us and had his head bowed in prayer. Once I finished, the pastor said a prayer for Cammie and me then explained to me the importance of a connection with God. I thanked him for his time and for listening. Although the praying part of this seemed silly and unreasonable to me, having a third party who would listen, and only listen, was something I definitely needed.

"Why'd you take me here?" I asked Grant as we walked back to the car. "Why not just take me to see her and let me talk what's been happening in my life with her?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty hung-over head about it." Grant said with a smirk. "But you feel better now don't you."

"Yeah," I replied after thinking about it. "I do. I thought you weren't religious, man." I added as we pulled into the hospital parking lot.

"I'm not. That's just some random church I saw. I was going to take you straight here but decided that it was good for you to talk to someone other than your comatose wife." He tried to joke but I winced at his ending and knew that the time for joking was over.

Once I entered Cammie's floor the receptionist gave me a warm smile. She recognized me and made a comment about my absence. She told me that Cammie was still stable but you could tell something was distressing her. They think it was my absence. I thank the receptionist and rush over to Cammie's room. The door is slightly ajar and I can see her form lying on the spread.

Her bandages must have been freshly changed because they had the same softness yet coarseness that the bandages have right after they're changed. I grab her hand and I can see a small smile tugging at her lips, but as soon as it's there, it's gone. It seemed more like a dream than a reality. She's back to normal. Grant stands in the doorway giving us space.

"Take as long as you need. I'll be back later tonight." Grant leaves and I am left alone with Cammie.

"I've missed you." I feel like I can almost hear I've missed you too somewhere in the background noise of the hospital. It's barely a whisper but I hear it. I know it is Cammie talking because it has the same beauty and compassion in its voice.

"So today," I said with a chuckle, "Grant took me to church…" I tell her about my experience praying and with the random pastor who had never seen Grant or I ever but still listened to my life story. I could almost hear her melodic laugh as I drifted off into sleep.

From then on, I visited Cammie every day.