A/N: Thanks for the reviews. This chapter is shorter and not the best, my idea didn't really turn out as planned. The next chapter will be better. X
~Mini Peacelet~
Born To Fly - Part 32
"Where's Nikki?" The concern and perplexity wavered the blonde's tone as she pirouetted sharply and exited the small room upon learning that her wife was absent, though all her personal possessions remained where they had been left.
A senior nurse shifted from behind the nurse's station, a rather solemn and grim expression fixated to her face, "Mrs Boston was rushed back into theatre earlier this morning. It appears yesterday, when she became distressed and moved more than we would have liked this soon, that she burst her stitches which caused her to bleed out. She should return soon if all is well."
Christine's face dropped with worry and melancholy, fingers raking anxiously through her hair, "Why wasn't I contacted?!" Annoyance hinted her tone, teeth gritted momentarily in fury that something she considered to be major and serious had occurred and she was only just being informed.
"We knew you were coming in this morning, anyway. There wasn't much point as there isn't anything else you can do. You spent more than enough time pacing and waiting the first time she was in surgery."
She grumbled, expletives of frustration muffled beneath her breath, "Right-" she had vaguely listened to the nurse's pointless reasoning and stalked towards the door as something mentally clicked in her mind abruptly. The basis of the former army captain's stress was because of her. This was her fault. She was accountable for the further discomfort, risks and impending complications Nikki could face, delaying an already lengthy recovery period.
Christine repeatedly shoved her hand through her hair. Feet accelerating beneath her, she dashed through the dreary hospital corridors. Invisible walls were promptly closing around her, strangling and suffocating oxygen levels and starving her lungs. Rapid, raspy breaths. Anxiety cravings. She had to escape there and redeem a numbing agent.
Eve quickened into a jog to maintain pace with her step mother, silently following in bewilderment. The departed the hospital building and pounded down the concrete steps. A hasty look both ways and precariously dodging between the vehicles to cross the road. And the headmistress yanked the door fiercely and entered the convenience store.
The teenager instantly anticipated what has happening, peering through the glass panel only confirmed matters. Her hands trembled with panic as she pulled her phone from her pocket. She had to hurry. Scrolling through her contacts, she dialled Tom's number that she had been given in case of an emergency.
"Tom!" Relief was evident in the young brunette's voice as she explained the situation and what was occurring, "please hurry!"
Luckily, the male teacher was on his way to the hospital for visiting hours when he received the phone call from the stressed girl. Within a matter of moments, he rounded the corner and jogged towards the off licence. The headmistress had emerged from the shop - trapped in a pungent trance - and had ripped the lid from the glass bottle of vodka and began necking the colourless liquid. It burned, searing her throat. But it felt good, so good.
"I've tried to stop her but she just won't listen!" Eve exhaled with a swirl of breath, concern etched across her features as she helplessly perceived her step mother downing the booze. Bile rose to her mouth, flavouring her mouth with nauseous acidity. It was awful to observe a recovering alcoholic relapse so fatally. Especially with her lover and unborn child in hospital.
Tom snatched the bottle from her hands, shifting to the edge of the pavement and pouring the neat poison down the drain slat. The stuff was pollution to the water system, let alone what it did to the human body.
"Hey! That's mine! I paid for that!"
"Come on, Christine. You are not going to throw away all your hard work. Not now." His words were sincere and stern. Perhaps blunt. With the bottle handed to Eve, he pushed the blonde over to the bench and forced her to sit down, "I know what's happened. But drinking and drowning your sorrows with vodka is not the answer. It's never the answer. And deep down, I know that you know that too."
The outburst of complete anger and rage had passed, replaced with a remorseful tranquility. Her face was concealed in her hands, fingertips dug into the scalp below her fringe, "It's my fault. It's all my fault."
Nobody could entirely be sure whether the pregnant brunette would currently be back in surgery if the heated accusations hadn't been fired yesterday and created tension and distress. So the English teacher skilfully avoided the blame, "We can't change what has happened in the past, so there's no point dwelling." A friendly hand rubbed her back, "But we can influence the future, which is what's important now, right? We have to move on and focus on that. That's what Nik would want."
Christine titled her head up and blew out a breath, "She deserves better than me. I'm just a vodka loving screw up."
"Don't say that! You're her wife and she's in love with you. No relationship comes free of the odd hiccup and problem. Real relationships work through that and that's what makes their connections so strong." Tom spoke again, "Nikki is going to need a lot of help for a while, unconditional support. Whatever the result from what has happened, we will work through it. Step by step. Now, don't you think she'll want to see some familiar, friendly faces when she wakes again?"
The blonde nodded and straightened her posture, and as much as she loathed to admit it. Tom was right; spot on. He always was. "Yeah, you're right." She regained her equilibrium and twisted to face him again, "We better get back in there then." Tucking her hair behind her ears, she paused again, "Thank you,"