Sooo...
It's been a minute. And for the hundredth-millionth time, I'm so sorry. This update was meant to come about a week after the previous one. Obviously, that didn't happen. And for two reasons. One is that I am in the midst of studying for an IT certification which is very intensive and time-consuming. Not to mention we are now entering the busy season at my work.
The other reason, which brings me significantly less happiness, is that a certain group of people over on Wattpad, where I also post this story (as well as Ao3) decided to not only flame this story but basically accused me of using it to encourage and promote pedophilia.
First, people need a better grasp on reality because this story ISN'T real. Second, people need to crack open a dictionary once in a while and learn the true definition of a word instead of just flinging around umbrella terms whenever something squinks them out.
One particular person "just had to say something". Then their little buddies joined in when I pushed back. Gotta love when people are so self-righteous and self-important that they have to get up on their moral high horse to warn others about what a POS you are. As if people couldn't discern for themselves whether or not this story is for them.
NEWS FLASH!: IT'S NOT FOR EVERYONE! No one's writing is. The content and subject matter are clearly outlined and if someone doesn't like it, there's the door. I NEVER once gave my endorsement of this type of relationship or any of the activities herein as far as a real-life scenario is concerned.
Yes, I understand whenever you post anything on the internet, you open yourself up to criticism and others' opinions, but that DOES NOT mean I have to sit back and take abuse from random assholes over the internet. I've had enough of that in real life and then these fucks that know NOTHING about me come along and try to ruin the one thing that is an outlet for all the shit that I've endured over my life.
I am so sorry for this emotional rant. I know those trolls don't matter, but it really took the wind out of my sails for a while. Honestly, I've been so focused on real-life stuff I have no idea when the next update will be as I haven't even started it. The only reason you're getting this is because it was already 80% of the way done when all that nonsense went down and I basically forced myself to finish little by little.
To all of my readers, I thank you so, so much from the bottom of my heart. I know this isn't the most popular story out there, but you have absolutely no idea how much your reviews, favorites, and even alerts mean to me. Thank you to those lurkers and especially thank you to my steady reviewers: Morrowsong, Idcam, and BanannaSammich. You make it all worth it!
Anyway, I know you all have been waiting to see what's going on with Heather...
Reves laughed sardonically at her boyfriend. "Whatever. You knew what you were getting into, so I don't know wh-" Reves jumped, her heart slamming against her ribcage as she heard a thunderous crash suddenly ring out. "What the fuck was that?" she asked as she shot off her bed.
"What's the matter, Babe?" Erik asked concerned.
"You didn't hear that?"
"Kinda. Sounded like a loud bang," he said confused.
Reves shook her head. "Probably Heather just being a klutz and knocked something over," she commented with a roll of her eyes as she began moving across the room. She was going to go through the adjoining bathroom, but for some reason, her gut told her to go into the hall.
Exiting her door, Reves looked to her left. Her heart stopped when she saw a pair of grungy old Chucks and a tiny body lying out in the doorway of the adjacent room. Immobilized, Reves blinked, not certain whether she was actually seeing what she was seeing.
"Callyouback," Reves uttered in one breath as she hit the End button on her phone and broke into a sprint down the hall calling her sister's name, "Heather!"
Reves crashed to her knees beside the girl and screamed her name again as she shook her, "Heather! Answer me!" Heather didn't respond and Reves pushed the girl's limp body over so that she was laying on her back. Reves noticed that her skin was cold and clammy and her lips were an alarming tint of blue. What the hell could that mean? Reves didn't know, but of course, she knew it wasn't good. "Oh, come on. Don't do this to me, you little bitch!" Reves growled with both anger and terror.
"MOM!" Reves shouted at the top of her lungs. She knew her mother was downstairs in the kitchen. "Mom! Come quick! HURRY!"
Trying to keep her wits about her, she knew she couldn't wait for her mom. Heather's life depended on it, but her brain was a jumbled mass as she was panicking, thinking of what to do. She needed to call for help! That's right.
Reves's head snapped back and forth. Where was her phone? Then she spied it some feet away. She must have dropped it without realizing it as she was running to Heather. Scrambling on her hands and knees, Reves swiped up her phone and punched in 9-1-1.
By the time Sara had raced up the stairs to see what all the commotion was, Reves was already on the phone with the dispatcher in mid-conversation. "Reves, what is – oh dear God," Sara choked as she knelt down beside her unconscious daughter.
"N-no. I just heard a loud crash and I found her like this. I dunno what happened," Reves told the dispatcher as she paced back and forth nervously.
"Is she breathing?" the woman could be heard asking.
Reves looked at Sara expectantly.
Sara nodded, at least relieved for that. "It's very slow and shallow," Sara quickly confirmed.
Reves relayed this to the woman, who then replied, "Right. Can you give me your address?"
Reves rattled off their home address and then desperately begged the woman to help her sister.
"I've got the EMTs on their way now. I know this is scary but you're doing great Reves," the woman said addressing her by the name she gave at the beginning of the call. "I'm going to stay on the line until they get there. Can you give me some more information on your sister to have for the medical crew when they get there? Her full name and date of birth?"
"H-heather Jane Calaway. J-January 3, 1985."
"Alright, thanks. Does she have any medical conditions or allergies that you're aware of?"
"N-no."
After what seemed like eons, they finally heard the sirens blaring down the dirt road. Sara reluctantly left her daughter's side to meet with the medical personnel and usher them upstairs while Reves wrapped things up with the 9-1-1 dispatcher.
Three EMTs crowded into the hallway. It only took a moment for them to realize something was critically wrong. Bluish lips and fingernails, pinpoint pupils. "Let's get her vitals," the one who was probably the lead, commanded with calm professionalism. "Billy, get the Narcan ready. I have a feeling that's where this one is going."
"On it," Billy responded promptly as he began rummaging through his medical kit.
After checking Heather's heart rate and oxygen, it was all too clear they were on borrowed time. "Let's get the Narcan in her so we can get her going," the first one, whose name was Jim stated.
Billy already had the gigantic syringe ready to inject into the girl's veins.
"Wh-what is that?" Reves asked with wide eyes. Her sister wasn't fond of needles, so at least she wasn't awake for this.
"It's apparent this was some type of opioid overdose," Jim started. "Billy is administering some Narcan."
"It will block opioid receptors and work to counteract whatever drugs your daughter took," the third, a young woman, whose name tag read Cindy, cut in.
"What? My daughter doesn't take drugs," Sara insisted as if they were accusing her of something diabolical.
"Ma'am, that's a discussion for later. Right now, we have to get her to the ER. The anecdote is doing its thing but she's still in a critical state," Jim told her as the other two hurried to get the stretcher.
Sara nodded. What was she thinking? She was so frazzled it was impossible for her to think straight. She was so shocked and bewildered. But the answers would have to wait. Right now, the most important thing was ensuring that her daughter was going to be alright.
As they made their way downstairs and to the front of the house, a pair of police vehicles pulled up. Three officers exited the vehicles and approach the scene as Billy and Cindy were busy tending to Heather and loading the gurney into the back of the ambulance.
"Mrs. Calaway?" the tallest of the three addressed Sara.
"Yes?" Sara replied, taken back by their presence.
"Standard protocol, ma'am," he said trying to put her at ease. "I'm Sgt. Smith and this is Officer Hernandez and Officer Tucker. Do you know what happened here?"
"No idea. I know my daughter was in her room. There was a loud bang and my other daughter found her passed out in the hall," Sara responded, tears flowing down her cheeks as she shook her head.
"I know you'll be heading to the hospital. Mind if we take a look inside to see if we can gather any clues?" Sgt. Smith asked.
"No. I'll call my sons. They should be here soon," Sara said trying to be as levelheaded as possible.
"We'll wait outside for them then," he answered with a nod.
"We're ready," Cindy announced hastily.
Upon hearing this, Reves was poised to climb into the back, but her way was blocked by Jim. "Only the parent. I'm sorry," he told her sympathetically.
"But…she's, my sister. I'm the one who found her!" Reves protested as angry tears welled in her eyes.
The Sergeant sighed empathetically. The girl was an obvious wreck, worrying about her sister. "Officer Hernandez can escort you. Officer Tucker and I will wait here for your brothers."
Reves only gave him an acknowledged, yet grateful glance. She absolutely hated having all these strangers see her blubbering like a puss, but she was utterly terrified and distraught at the moment.
"We'll contact you at the hospital, Mrs. Calaway," Sgt. Smith assured her with a nod.
"Thank you," Sara uttered swiftly before hopping into the back of the ambulance with her daughter.
Billy slammed the heavy doors shut before jumping into the front of the cab with Jim. Wailing sirens and flashing lights flared to life as the emergency vehicle began barreling down the long dirt road.
Reves felt her heart sink and her stomach twist further as she stood frozen for a few moments as it carried her sister farther away.
"Let's get going Miss," Officer Hernandez instructed her as he was opening the door to one of the squad cars for her. "Everything's gonna be okay," he told her.
Reves said nothing but shakily made her way to the car. She was silent on the ride as the officer turned on his lights and sirens as well to follow close behind the ambulance. Reves wasn't sure if this was an actual procedure for cops, but she considered herself lucky nevertheless.
"Must have been scary, finding your sister like that," Officer Hernandez stated.
Reves remained mum, lost in her own thoughts.
"How old is she? Sixteen or seventeen?" When Reves shifted her eyes towards him in silent acknowledgment, he continued, "Yeah, my kid sister is sixteen. Almost got herself in with the wrong crowd a few months ago. Had to give her a stern talking to, scared the bejesus out of her. I think she's good now though," he chuckled.
Reves wasn't too taken with the notion that this guy might think her sister was potentially some sort of bad egg, but who cares what he thought? Even still, she found herself countering, "She's a good kid." The words were as stupid as they sounded. What constituted a good kid anyway? Doing everything the one in authority commanded? Keeping your head down and never questioning anything? Keep your head down and never make a peep. That's how it was.
"I'm sure she is," the officer said. "I was just saying kids are easily influenced by their peers. Anyway, you're a great sister, looking out for her."
Buddy, you don't know the half of it, Reves thought to herself.
Really taking him in for the first time, Reves realized just how young he was. He couldn't be more than twenty-two and Reves wondered if his sister was the reason he was doing this he chose this profession.
When they arrived, Heather was rushed into the ER while Sara and Reves were directed to the waiting room to stew, ponder, and worry about whether she was going to be okay.
Having rushed out of the house in such a tizzy, Sara didn't have her cell phone, pocketbook, or any such effect. Therefore, she had to bum two quarters off of a stranger in order to use one of the payphones located in the hall. One she used to call the boys. They should have been thanking their lucky stars that they answered too. She told them what had happened with Heather and that the police officers were waiting at the house.
The other quarter was to call Mark. Frustratingly, she had gotten his voicemail and had to explain what had happened through all of her hysteria; just like last week when she had warned him about Nash.
When she was finished, she slammed the receiver on the hook with an exasperated snarl. What was the fucking point? That selfish bastard had proven what was most important to him. He went back to work. Even after all that, his number one goal was to get back to his boss and the fans. He had to go be The Undertaker, The Phenom. Mark was unreachable. Sara slump with her back against the icy concrete wall and released a guttural wail.
Reves was further unnerved by this sight. "Come on, Mom. You need to sit down," she instructed softly as she ushered the nearly hysterical woman back into the waiting area. Someone had to keep their head on at the moment and Reves suspected it would have to be her. She had never seen her mother this frantic and on edge, even in light of recent events.
It seemed like hours before an ER doctor approached them in the waiting room. "Mrs. Calaway?" he asked unsure.
Sara's head shot up. "Yes? How is Heather? Can I see her?" she questioned, bolting out of her chair.
The young doctor held up a hand, indicating that she may need to slow down a bit. He wore a somber expression that did little to set the two women at ease. "We had administered another dose of Narcan. We also pumped her stomach, just to be on the safe side. Fortunately, she is stable now. The downside is," he paused for a moment, mulling over how to continue the rest of his report. The doctor sighed, knowing there was no better way to say it. "She's in a coma due to the amount of toxins that were in her body."
"What?" Sara asked in a stunned manner.
Dr. Mulligan frowned. "Your daughter is in an unconscious state."
"I know what that means," Sara snapped a little too harshly. "But...but she'll wake up soon, right? I mean you said you gave her more of that medicine and you pumped her stomach. She'll be okay, right?" Sara questioned, the desperation now seeping from her voice.
"It's hard to say," he replied solemnly. "Sometimes brain activity can be hard to interpret in these cases and even vitals are deceptive at times - as far as an indicator if someone is going to wake up, that is."
"Can we see her?" Reves interjected finally.
"Yes. For a few minutes while we are preparing a more permanent room," the doctor answered.
A more permanent room. Neither Sara nor Reves liked the sound of that. It was as if he thought Heather was going to be out for a long, long time.
Walking back through the winding corridors and plethora of rooms, seeing people with all manner of different ailments, Reves felt her stomach tighten further. Upon entering the room, Reves found herself both heartbroken and enraged. There was her sister laying in a hospital bed with breathing tubes and a nasty-looking bruise. It was similar to the one that was still healing across her own nose, but this was on the side of her temple, probably where she fell.
Seeing Heather in this catatonic state after everything that had happened recently was almost too much to bear.
Approaching the bed, Reves leaned into her sister. Tears stung her eyes as she whispered through clenched teeth, "If you weren't laying in this hospital bed, I'd kill you," before storming out of the room.
Sara let her go, saying nothing but understood that she was probably too overwhelmed to stay. What a fine mess her family had gotten themselves into. Sara wondered how much worse things could get from this point.
Sara turned towards her youngest as she approached the bed. She didn't have her glasses and Sara realized she must have lost them somewhere in the frenzy. Even though she was forced to get contacts for television, she refused to wear them in the day-to-day. The thought caused the corners of Sara's lips to tug into a small smile.
The smile quickly faded, however. Sara gently smoothed a hand down the side of Heather's face that wasn't bruised. "Why, Heather?" Sara asked although her daughter could not answer.
A few minutes later, a nurse showed up in the doorway. "Excuse me," the nurse said, and Sara turned to look at her. "We're ready to transfer Heather to her room. There is a lounge in the left wing of the third floor - that's where she'll be - if you'd like to wait there for now," the young blonde informed her sweetly.
Sara swallowed hard and nodded, reluctant to leave her daughter, but knew there wasn't much she could do at this point. "Thank you," she murmured.
Moving into the room, the nurse's gaze fell on Heather for a couple of moments. "She's beautiful," the nurse commented. "Such a shame," she added with a shake of her head, indicating that she must be in the know about what happened to the teenager.
Despite the despair she felt, Sara couldn't help but beam at that moment. "She is," she murmured fondly.
"I'm sorry!" The nurse blurted out suddenly as a hand flew over her mouth. "I was told to stop saying those things. Please don't tell my supervisor!"
"No worries," Sara assured, shaking her head. "I should go find my other daughter."
"Is she the blonde that was crying outside and looking really angry?" The young woman asked sympathetically. "I saw her when I was coming back from my break," she quickly added.
"Probably," confirmed Sara before leaving.
Not long after Heather was transferred to her room and doctors ensured her condition was stable for the time being one of the nurses poked her head inside to inform Sara with confusion and apprehension that there were a couple of police officers there to see her.
Sara only nodded through her sniffles and the nurse disappeared to let the officers enter.
Sara stood as Sgt. Smith appeared in the room followed by another officer. This one was different than the two she met at the house, but he didn't bother to introduce him. "Mrs. Calaway," Sgt. Smith nodded.
"Hello," Sara replied. She felt uncomfortable due to the expression on his face.
"I think we discovered the culprit," Smith said as he held out an empty pill bottle to Sara. "This was found on the bathroom counter. Empty of course. You'll have to wait for the lab results, but it's safe to assume this is what she took."
Sara stared at the bottle flabbergasted.
"Says they're prescribed to a Mark Calaway," continued the Sgt. as he eyed the label again.
"My husband's. Probably left over from an injury," Sara explained.
"I know. He's one of my boy's favorite wrestlers," Sgt. Smith said indifferently.
Ordinarily, Sara might have been embarrassed by his remarks at such a time as this, but she was too lost in her own thoughts. "How the hell..." she mumbled to herself. Then she looked at the man with alarm. "Heather isn't going to be in any sort of trouble is she?"
"I'm not going to arrest a kid that's unconscious if that's what you're asking," he replied. "But we may or may not want to speak with her when she wakes up."
Sara expelled a forlorn sigh. IF she wakes up, she thought morbidly and then hated it.
"Does she have a history of substance abuse that you know of?" he asked.
"No, " Sara denied with vehemence as she glared at him incredulously. "She'd rarely even take Tylenol if she had a headache."
"I'm just trying to help. I'm not assuming anything one way or the other," the officer told her. He sighed then and looked briefly in the direction of the young girl. "Well, I suppose that's all we can do for now. We'll be in touch. Here's my card. You should be able to reach me. If not my secretary will be available. Good luck to you," he nodded before he and the other officer left.
Sara was relieved when they went. He seemed nice enough, but Sara couldn't help but question if he was really concerned with her daughter's welfare or whether he hoped to get an autograph or a picture for his kid.
Sara felt her entire body sag as she turned back toward her unconscious daughter. She clenched her fists and then realized that she was still holding the empty pill bottle clutched in one hand. She released another despondent sigh.
Where had she gone wrong? She had only tried to give her kids the best life possible and this was the result? A daughter who wanted to die. Another who despised them. Two sons who seemed to alienate themselves from the family. (Not that she could blame any of them, not with the shit show things had become.) And finally, fighting with her husband almost constantly over one thing or another.
Sara gazed at the pill bottle again. No wonder Heather had tried to off herself. What a dysfunctional bunch of assholes they were.
She remembered finding Heather in the bathtub after coming home early from a taping last year. The expression of shock and horror on Heather's face must have matched her own. Heather didn't speak but let out a sort of choking whine from her throat that seemed to be part cry for help, part displeasure that her plans had been foiled, as Sara grabbed a white towel from the rack.
Sara had wrapped the towel around her wrist like a tourniquet as she pulled her up from the swirls of red-orange water. Too modest and too dignified to be found with no clothes, she was wearing that old one-piece bathing suit she had had for years.
Urgently she got Heather dressed and off they went to the hospital. Sara could remember yelling and lecturing her on the way, as did Mark. For her past actions, Sara felt guilty almost immediately after the words left her mouth, but she had been so scared and so flabbergasted as to why Heather would do such a thing.
At first, she thought it might be a cry for attention. That was the reason when Vince offered her a full-time contract a month later, she declined. The girls soon after took her place on the road with Mark. A lot of good that did. She had hoped giving them a different environment, especially Heather, would help them feel appreciated, and being around the girls would help Mark open up.
Even though she knew firsthand what the industry could be like she never imagined any of this. Also, it had become very clear that Heather was going through more than just typical teenage angst. They had ignored her cry for help. They took her out of school but nothing else had changed as far as the way they treated her. Too many restrictions with too many expectations, yet not enough freedom. Their worst fears had been realized and it had been all their doing.
Sara sank down in a nearby chair as she came undone, having met her breaking point.
What must have been several hours later, exhaustion finally took her and she nodded off.
Sara didn't know how long she had been out but she felt herself being shaken gently. When she looked up she was met by a brunette nurse who had come in to check Heather's vitals. "Why don't you head home and get some proper rest ma'am? I mean I know it's hard," she said glancing in Heather's direction, "but there's not much to be done at this point," the nurse said looking back at her. "We'll call you if anything changes."
Rubbing sleep from her eyes Sara shook her head. "No. No, I can't leave her." She stated vehemently.
"That blonde, sleeping in the lounge down the hall, is she also your daughter?" The woman asked innocently.
The guilt of her question hit Sara like a lightning strike. It was a curious thing how people had identified her as such when they really looked nothing alike.
In her worry over Heather, she had all but forgotten about Reves. She was a little shocked that Reves was even still here. She had refused to come into the room when they had Heather settled in. Sara was surprised that she had not called Erik or one of her other friends to come and get her. It was apparent that she had wanted to stay close to Heather even though she couldn't bear to see her like this.
Sara stood and stretched, her body feeling stiff. "I should get her home," Sara finally replied. "Everything will be fine, alright?" Sara whispered as she leaned over Heather and kissed her forehead. Her skin was unexpectedly cold and clammy and it stopped Sara's heart for a moment. She stared at the monitor for several seconds to ensure that she was at least still alive before reluctantly turning to leave.
Sara ended up using the phone at the nurse's station to call the boys to come pick them up.
When they got home, Sara went straight to her room and collapsed on her bed.
No more than a few hours later, Sara was up again. She took a rushed shower for no other reason than to help herself wake up. Then got dressed in simple jeans and a tee shirt and headed downstairs.
When she entered the kitchen, she was surprised to see Reves sitting on one of the barstools. She sat staring into a full mug of black tea which looked like it had long since grown cold. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.
Sara could tell this was taking its toll on the older girl. Nevertheless, she asked in a quiet voice, "Do you want to try again today?"
Reves merely glared at her in response.
"You know your sister would want your support," Sara stated, not intentionally guilting her, but if it worked that would be just fine.
The blonde's glower became more hostile as she knew her mother would do something like this. "Fine," Reves grunted grudgingly although going to stare at her semi-lifeless sister was about the last thing that she had wanted to do. Well aware that her mother was biting at the bit, Reves hopped off the stool and poured the stone-cold tea into the sink.
Sara and Reves had been sitting in Heather's room scarcely making conversation for a couple of hours. It still had been a feat getting Reves into the room although she did agree to go in the first place. She sat on the other side of Heather's bed, opposite Sara. A permanent scowl was etched on her face although it was directed at no one in particular. The low drone of the television melding together with Heather's heart monitor was the only sound in the room.
Then they heard a bit of commotion in the hall. It was not like an altercation per se, but someone speaking a bit frantically. "Sara!" a voice called out as the person burst through the door.
Fear shot down Reves's spine as she bolted out of the chair and took a couple of steps back. That horrible memory was playing itself out before her eyes.
"Sara!" he called again as he rushed towards her.
"Mark!" Sara cried as she sprang from her chair and threw her arms around his neck. She couldn't help it. Even if she was still pissed at him, she was distraught and needed him at that moment.
Reves, on the other hand, was not pleased by this reunion in the slightest. She glowered at them both before storming out of the room. Her mother may be soft, but there was no way in hell she was going to just forgive him for everything that had happened. As far as Reves was concerned he was the reason Heather was laying in that bed, to begin with.
Letting go of Sara, Mark turned towards the door as he watched the young blonde rush out. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Sara told him, "Let her go. It was a battle just to get her here and she's still having a hard time with everything."
Mark ignored that last bit as he didn't like the guilty feeling that was steeping in. He turned towards his youngest laying in the hospital bed, eyes closed as though she was sleeping. "How did...what happened?" he asked confused.
Sara was about to answer, but he continued, so she allowed him to talk. "I got your message, but I didn't understand. Then my flight was delayed in Sacramento," he groused.
This time, Sara didn't try to say anything but dug into her purse for the empty pill bottle. She handed it to her husband and it took him a few moments to connect the dots.
"How did she get this?" he asked as he felt like the ground was falling out from underneath him. The last time he had seen it, it was thrown into a random drawer in the master bathroom and it was at least a third of the way full.
"Apparently, she took them all," Sara shrugged and sniffed. "She was legitimately trying to kill herself," she croaked in disbelief as she vocalized the obvious truth for the first time.
"Christ," muttered Mark as he ran his hand through his cropped auburn hair.
"This is all our fault," Sara croaked as a hand flew over her mouth and she began sobbing uninhibited.
"The Hell it is!" Mark growled although he wasn't angry at his wife. "This is Nash's fault! He just had to go and mess with her and whatever he did fucked her up so badly she wanted to off herself. I swear to God, if - no, when I see him again, I'm gonna castrate that motherfucker and jam his own dick so far down his throat, he'll have to shit it out if he doesn't choke on it first!"
Mark was practically shouting at this point and the uproar drew the attention of one of the nurses from down the hall who was making her rounds.
Sara assured her that everything was fine and her husband was just upset and overwhelmed by everything. However, before the nurse left, she made no qualms about informing Sara that she could ring for help if she felt unsafe.
Certainly, Mark was irritated by her insinuation, but then again, he was a nearly seven-foot hulking behemoth yelling and making threats at a woman, although not directly to her.
"Mark, believe me, I hate Nash too. Hell, I wish the bastard was standing here right now so I could get a few good shots in. But he's not the reason Heather did this. I mean yes, he was a factor in all of this, but that's not it," Sara told him in a defeated tone. "We failed, Mark. We failed as parents. We failed Heather when she needed us most. That's why she's here," Sara choked back her sobs as she gave him a pointed look and then rushed from the room.
Mark released an exasperated growl. He almost wanted to start yelling at his wife, telling her that if she chose to believe that about them that was fine, but he had done the best he could.
But his wife was already gone before he could form a coherent thought. Anyway, he knew she was right and he was wrong. He knew that, but his pride wasn't allowing him to admit it. He knew he had been the main cause of grief in not only his kids' lives but his wife's as well.
He turned to take in his daughter for the first time. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. What if she stayed like that? What if she never woke up? In his head, he replayed the last words she said to him. I hate you! And with all the venom, rage, and disdain that her tiny body could harbor, she meant it.
Mark's shoulders sagged. This really was all his fault. He knew Reves probably blamed him for Heather being here and as much as it pained him to admit, she'd be right.
He knew Heather could be a bit dramatic even when she was the most level-headed of all his kids. No, level-headed wasn't even the word. Most submissive rather. She was the one that would bend to his will and bow to his authority. She was always trying to appease those around her which is why this rebellion she was displaying came as such a shock to Mark.
Then Mark remembered Reves's words. How he was a shit parent and he had pushed them into the arms of older men. Was that why they did it? He demanded all the respect and subservience but offered none of the love and support that he should have.
He wondered if perhaps Reves and Heather really were too alike. Maybe it just took Heather a little longer to reach her breaking point. And her breaking point came with the grimmest consequences.
Mark thanked God he was looking down at her slumbering in this hospital, the heart monitor pushing out its steady stream of beeps, and not cold and stiff in a casket. But what if she never woke up? What if they had to one day pull the plug? The foolish girl!
Mark felt his anger rise, but this time he was angrier at himself than anything. He hadn't been a good father. Maybe he deserved to lose his kid. But one thing he knew, his kid didn't deserve to lose her life due to his own negligence.
"Come on, girl. Don't do this to me," Mark begged in a hushed tone. "Please," he added as he grabbed her hand. Her skin was smooth, but ice cold and he felt a chill inside his soul that maybe she was already gone. His eyes flickered momentarily to the heart monitor as he saw the steady peaks travel across the screen and heard the blip, blip, blip.
"I know I've been an asshole. It's not like I can expect ya to forgive me. But what about yer Ma and yer sister?" He pleaded as he sank down into the chair beside the bed. "Wake up, girl. If not for me, at least for them." Lifting her limp hand Mark pressed the icy skin against his mouth as barely restrained tears pricked his eyes. "Please."
"Mark?" a cautious voice came softly and he recognized it immediately as his wife's. There was a pregnant pause before she informed him, "The nurse is here to take Heather's vitals."
As the two women entered the room, Mark shot out of the chair abruptly and straightened to his full stature. He painted a stoic expression onto his mien as though he was ashamed to be discovered in such a vulnerable state.
"Hi. I'm Katie," the nurse from earlier properly introduced herself before promptly grabbing a blood pressure cuff off of her cart and proceeding to velcro it around Heather's arm.
All of these nurses were so young. Not so much older than his daughters. Early to mid-twenties. He wondered what she thought of his daughter, lying there after attempting to take her own life.
Either way, he watched what the young woman was doing with feigned intrigue, attempting to ignore the pitying look his wife was giving him.
"When is she gonna come out of this? When is she gonna wake up?" Mark finally demanded as he suddenly burst out. It wasn't in his usual disgruntled manner, but the urgency still caught the young woman off guard.
"I…" She paused. "We don't know. It's so hard to say in these scenarios," she replied empathetically.
Mark opened his mouth as though he intended to shout at the woman but he knew that would not help his case, especially with the way he was shouting at Sara earlier. Instead, he exhaled a rumbling sigh. He had it on good authority that was the only answer he was going to get on the matter.
Sara already knew this of course. She had lost track of the number of times she had received this answer within the past forty-eight hours. She knew no one could accurately predict when – if – she would come out of it, but it felt more like they were merely being pacified at this point. She knew they were, because what else could they really say? Still, it didn't ease the anxious fears they had. Nothing could except for Heather to open her eyes and be okay.
And so, that was the routine Mark and Sara had fallen into over the next two weeks, having nothing better to do with themselves. They spent the majority of their hours by the unconscious girl's bedside, hoping and praying that she would come back to life.
The only time they weren't at the hospital was when they were sleeping or showering, but for the most part, their waking moments were in each other's company. In some ways, it was the most time they had spent together in months. It was terrible, they knew, being drawn together in the face of such tragedy, but who else could they lean on if not each other?
It had taken Sara a little longer to come around, but she defaulted to their old ways. It was a familiar comfort in a time of despair and uncertainty.
One person who undoubtedly did not take kindly to their reconciliation was Reves. In fact, she had seen it as another betrayal on Sara's part. She had refused to return to Heather's bedside since the moment that Mark had reappeared. Sara had the impression that perhaps that was merely the excuse that she used because it was too difficult for her to look at her sister laying unresponsive in that bed day after day.
Even Jeremiah had come to see his friend a few times during this period. The boy was clearly distraught seeing Heather in this condition. He was, as one would imagine, thoroughly shocked and confused as to what would possess his friend to make an attempt on her life.
Of course, Mark and Sara didn't disclose the most recent developments, only that they thought she was still battling with the abuse and insecurities from the previous year.
This left Jeremiah feeling dreadful. He knew she had a stoic personality, but he realized how much she had been struggling. Usually so upbeat and happy-go-lucky, even he was finding it hard to not be melancholy about the situation.
On his most recent visit, he had brought Jazzy along. But only after she had pestered him relentlessly.
That had proved to be a terrible idea the moment Jazzy, who wasn't prone to crying, broke down in heart-wrenching sobs.
Sara had comforted the girl, but Mark clenched his fists in agitation as a scowl clouded his face. He wasn't sure what to do or say. A rumbling growl slipped out of him. It was hard enough keeping his own self in check. He didn't want to stand there and watch the kid cry.
After seeing the look on Mr. Calaway's face, Jeremiah told Jazzy it was a bad idea for her to come. Her brother's voice was harsh and impatient, so unlike him. Then Jeremiah ushered them both away. Seeing Jazzy cry like that might have caused him to breakdown himself.
Truth be told, although he had been rather amiable throughout this ordeal, Jeremiah wouldn't put it above Mr. Calaway to reprimand him or even Jazzy for showing a sliver of emotion, much the same way he had always done to Snow.
"She's only an eleven-year-old girl, Mark," Sara chided him once their daughter's friends had left.
"What? I didn't say anything," Mark returned defensively.
"You scoffed at a child who was rightfully upset!" his wife reprimanded him.
"I didn't mean it in a rude way. You know I can't deal with all that right now. Hell, it's my kid. I got a right to be upset too. Doesn't mean it was at her. I'm doing the best I can here, damn it!" Mark groused, raising his voice a little more than he ought to.
"D-daddy?"
I hope this was ok. It feels subpar. Of course, I'm no medical expert, but I tried to research and did my best. At least I updated, right? As I said, I really don't know when the next one will come but suffice to say it will and that this isn't being abandoned. Til next time. Whenever that is.