Fractured Lines

by Jen McLaughlin

  When I ran into the house, I slipped and fell, banging my head hard on the floor. Blinking, I rolled over onto all fours and looked down at what I’d slipped on. My vision was blurry and twisted, but what I’d fallen on was red and thick and…

  “Oh, God. No. No, no, no, no, no.”

  There was blood on the marble floor, and it wasn’t from the man I’d shot. Which meant it had to belong to…no.

  I followed the trail of blood.

  High-heeled black boots that I recognized instantly, because they were my favorite. A short black dress that hugged curves perfectly, which was also my favorite. And I could smell my favorite dinner cooking in the kitchen, as well as my favorite dessert.

  Long red hair was splayed across the cold floor, a stark contrast to the tan marble beneath it, and then blood… So much fucking blood.

  I choked on the smell. On the fear.

  Reality blurred with the past, until I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. Not anymore. Maybe not ever again.

  I stumbled forward on my hands and knees, the Glock I’d still been holding hitting the floor with a bang. I heard people come up behind me, crying out, but I didn’t even look at them. I couldn’t look away from my beautiful, porcelain, pale, motionless wife. “No. No, no, no, no. Carrie, no.”

  I’d seen a lot of men like this. Watched a lot of people die. But I’d never expected to find her like this. Never expected to find her like this. Never…

  “Oh my God,” someone said behind me. “Is she…?”

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I repeated. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real. It’s a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.” I punched my thigh as hard as I could. I didn’t wake up. “Carrie. Wake up.”

  I knelt next to her, soaking my pants with her blood, and reached out with a shaky hand. It was covered in blood—I had no idea whose—and rested my hand on her throat. This couldn’t be how it ended. This couldn’t be how we ended. I choked on a sob, burning tears streaming down my face, and pressed my fingers to her neck, where her pulse should be.

  Nothing. I felt nothing.

  “Please God, let it be there. Let her be alive. I need her to be alive. Is she alive?”

  “I don’t know,” someone said, resting his hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t realized I said anything out loud. “We called 911, but is there a pulse? They want to know…”

  I shook my head, unable to stop. “No. Not Carrie. It can’t be real. This isn’t real.”

  Susan cried from upstairs. My neighbor, the woman who I’d waved to earlier in the week, stepped forward. “I’ll get her, but I won’t bring her down.”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

  Because I was realizing this wasn’t a dream.

  And I had to pull my shit together and save my wife.

  I stared at the gaping wound on her head. He’d shot her. Aimed for her head and shot her in cold blood. I wished I could kill him again, endlessly, to make him suffer. I closed my eyes and forced myself to concentrate on the skin under my fingertips. And then there it was. Faint, but steady.

  A heartbeat.

  “She’s alive,” I rasped, crawling closer and glancing at the man on the phone. “She’s not dead.”

  Hovering over her body, I pressed my fingers against the wound that gushed blood from her chest. She had two injuries. How was that even possible? There had been only one shot. I was sure of it. “She’s bleeding from two wounds,” I managed to say. “Not one.”

  The man behind me, a neighbor whose name I couldn’t remember, told the operator what I’d said, word for word. Then he asked, “Are they both gunshot wounds?”

  I scanned the foyer, forcing my eyes off of her. The table by the door was broken, and the glass vase I’d bought her for our first anniversary was shattered across the floor in millions of fragments. I turned her head to the side and ripped my shirt off.

  The majority of the blood came from the wound on her chest, but the blood on her head seemed to be from something besides a gunshot wound. I pressed a trembling hand to the wound above her heart, trying to stop the blood. “No. She was shot in the chest, and it looks like she hit her head falling down. But it’s bad. Really, really bad.”

  Tears fell from my cheeks, but I didn’t bother to wipe them away.

  “Carrie? God, Carrie, can you hear me? Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare fucking leave me.” I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and kissed her. She felt cold, but not dead. Still, but not lifeless. “You can’t leave me. I need you, Ginger.”

  She didn’t even so much as lift a finger.

  Sirens sounded in the distant background, and tires squealed directly outside the house, crashing into something. My truck, maybe.

  “No! Carrie!” her father shouted, his voice frantic. “Carrie!”

  I hugged her close, my hand still pressed to her chest. A scuffle came from behind me, and I closed my eyes. “Let him in. He’s family.”

  My father-in-law came up behind me and froze. I knew the second he saw his lifeless daughter on the ground, because he fell to his knees. Just like I had. “No.”

  “She’s not dead.” I looked over my shoulder at him. He looked ashen, and his eyes were locked on Carrie’s lifeless face. “Hey! Look at me.” He did. “She’s not gone,” I said, stating each word perfectly.

  “Susan?”

  “Is fine,” I managed to say. “She wasn’t hurt.”

  He collapsed upon himself. “This is all my fault. I did this to her. This is my fault.”

  “If anything, it’s mine. I should have been there with her. I should have been here.” I’d failed her, because I’d been too worried about taking care of myself. I’d left her alone, and now this had happened. I looked down at her again, my heart twisting harshly. “I did this. I should have been here. It’s my fault.”

  He reached out and clasped her hand. “That man out there? He’s the man who was a threat last week. He got out. He escaped custody. This is my fault. All my fault…”

  I stiffened, the blood rushing out of my head. “What?”

  “It’s him. This is my fault.” He fell back on his butt, his eyes still locked on Carrie. “This is all my fault. We didn’t know…I didn’t realize…”

  My grip on my shirt, which was still pressed to her bleeding chest, tightened so hard it hurt. The cotton actually hurt my fingers. “That son of a—”

  Sirens sounded, and Carrie started to tremble, then shake.

  And then she seized.

  Carrie

  I woke up slowly, blinking my eyes a few times before finally opening them to the glaring light overhead. Everything hurt. Breathing. Opening my eyes. Blinking. So, I closed them again, a small moan escaping me. Someone grabbed my hand, the touch gentle and reassuring. It soothed me instantly.

  “Carrie?” a male voice asked. “Are you awake?”

  Carrie? Who was Carrie? Was that me?

  Why couldn’t I remember?

  “I’m here, Ginger. I’m with you.” The man kissed my hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Ginger? I thought he’d called me Carrie. I was so confused. So high, in so much pain, and so confused. So…everything. Slowly, I opened my eyes and blinked again, the bright light sending a shaft of pain piercing through my throbbing skull.

  Turning my head to the side, I opened my eyes again, and focused on the man beside me. He had light brown—or was it dark blond?—hair, stunning blue eyes, and he was simply too gorgeous for words.

  My first thought was that this was the type of guy fathers hated. Sexy. Dangerous. Sexy. Trouble. Sexy. Even so, when I locked eyes with him, I knew he was so much more than that. And I also sensed that he was someone important to me. I knew I knew him, straight down to my very soul, even if I couldn’t remember who the heck he was. My heartbeat picked up rapidly, and my fingers flexed on his.

  Somehow, I knew this man…

  When he saw my eyes had opened, he smiled at me, bri
ght and wide, and I blinked again. He was even more handsome when he smiled. That smile…it did weird things to my insides. It made me think of…of…

  God, I couldn’t remember.

  “Carrie?” He offered me a small smile. “Hey. It’s me. I hope you don’t mind I stayed. I had to be here when you woke up.”

  I glanced away, but turned back instantly, almost as if I couldn’t stop looking at him. As if my eyes were on some sort of magnetic connection with his, and it was inevitable for me to fight it. To try to look away. “Do I know…? Who are you?”

  He stared at me, and the smile slowly faded away. “What? It’s me.”

  I let go of him, hugging my hand to my chest defensively. Something about him, the way he looked at me…it hurt. It physically hurt. “I don’t know you. Who are you? Who am I?”

  “Carrie…” His voice broke, and he reached for my hand again. I snatched it out of reach. “Don’t you remember me? It’s Finn.”

  It was as if that name held magical powers or something, because as soon as he said it, everything came rushing back. It all came back in a horrifying, painful, way-too-graphic rush. The fear, when that man had pointed his gun at me. The pain, after he’d shot. The horrifying blackness when I’d been sure I was going to die…

  I sucked in a deep breath, but it got stuck. I couldn’t breathe.

  I was choking on my own blood all over again.

  “Shh. Just breathe. You’re okay. You can do it. Just breathe.” Finn grabbed me and hugged me close, his touch gentle. “It’s okay. I’m here with you.”

  I let my breath out in a whoosh and clung to him with the arm that didn’t hurt like hell. I’d been shot. I’d been attacked in my own home, and I’d…oh my God. I pulled back, my eyes wide. “Susan.”

  “She’s okay.” He met my eyes. “She’s safe. He didn’t get her.”

  I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. Sadness and fear and pain. So much pain. Susan was okay, but what about the other one? The one who’d been in my belly? He or she had to be okay, too. Please, God. “O-Our baby? Is our baby okay, too?”

  Finn blinked at me, looking confused for a second. Then he nodded. “Everything is fine.”

  I tried to breathe again, but now that I knew we were all safe—even our unborn baby—I slipped back into that place. Back into the pain and the fear. I clung to Finn, my lungs filling up but not releasing the air. I watched as he tried to calm me, seeing his mouth move and hearing his voice, but I didn’t hear a word he said.

  The doctors rushed in, and Finn jumped back, covering his mouth as he watched me with tears in his eyes. He looked so scared. So broken. If I could talk, I’d tell him not to worry. If I could talk, I’d tell him everything was going to be okay.

  But instead I was going to die.

  Finn

  A little while after Carrie woke up—and had a panic attack and gotten drugged until she passed out again—I rested my head back against the pleather chair, rubbing my throbbing temples, and yawned. I’d spent the last twenty minutes trying to do my best to explain to Carrie’s parents why she’d had to be sedated when she’d woken up, and I was fucking beat.

  I kept telling them that she’d be okay, that everything would be okay. But the truth was? I really had no fucking clue if that was true. None at all.

  Carrie was barely hanging on to life, and she was terrified. I’d seen it in her eyes. I’d recognized that fear down to my soul. I knew it. I was it.

  “But will she need to be sedated every time she wakes up?” Hugh asked, pacing back and forth. “Will she be okay?”

  “Yes. She has to be.” I closed my eyes. “Right now, all she remembers is the fear of dying. The pain. The shot that was fired….”

  “Finn.” Her mother walked up to me and hugged me. “Is she going to have…will she…?”

  “Yeah. She might.” I swallowed hard. “She might suffer from PTSD, like me.”

  What a pair we’d make.

  The door opened, and someone knocked as it swung inward. The doctor stepped in, a tablet in his hand. “Mr. Coram?”

  “Yes.” I leapt to my feet, my heart racing. “I’m here.”

  “Sorry about the rush earlier, but—” He cut off, glancing at the Wallingtons. “Oh, you have company.”

  “It’s her parents. They’re fine.”

  “Wait. Are you…?” He broke off and bowed. “Senator Wallington. Mrs. Wallington. It’s an honor. I didn’t realize—”

  “Yes, he’s a big deal. I get it.” I stepped in front of them, blocking off the doctor’s fangirling before it got too insane. “That’s why there is security out there.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s become necessary ever since news of the shooting hit all the major media outlets.” Hugh extended a hand. “But, anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

  Mrs. Wallington smiled, ever the potential first lady. “Yes, it is.”

  “Please.” I waved an impatient hand. “What’s going on, doctor? How is she doing?”

  The doctor finally ripped his eyes off of the couple. “I think she’ll be okay, with time. She needs to heal, and she needs to rest. I think, for now, sedating her is the best way to allow that to happen. If she keeps waking up and panicking like that, she could make her injuries worse.”

  Her mother wrung her hands. “But why is she panicking? Is she okay?”

  “The mind is a tricky thing. She’s just too traumatized to handle the reality of what happened to her right now. She might never be ready to handle all of that, which is why we’ll have to keep a close eye on her.” He gripped the tablet tight. “She was within seconds of bleeding out when she got here. Within seconds of dying. That takes a toll on a body.”

  “Jesus,” I said, sinking into the chair.

  “We can take care of her, Finn.” Margie rested her hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this, considering…well, everything.”

  I stiffened. “I’m not leaving her.”

  “Not to pry, but are you military?”

  I glanced away. “I was, yes.”

  “Ever go overseas?”

  “Yeah.” The voices in my head got louder, shouting for attention, but I shut them down. I didn’t have time for them now. “And yes, I got injured over there. Saw things. Did things. Suffered from all of it.”

  “And you overcame it. Excellent. You’ll understand why she is the way she is.” The doctor nodded once. “You’ll be a good support system.”

  I swallowed the panic trying to rise in my chest. How was I supposed to be a support system for her when I could barely keep my own shit together? “Yes.”

  The doctor must have noticed my hesitation. He narrowed his eyes on me. “Is everything okay?” the doctor asked, glancing at my in-laws a little hesitantly. “If you’re not able to be there for—”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Her father cleared his throat and tugged on his tie. “Actually, they’re separate—”

  I stiffened. We might be separated, but if she needed me, I would be there. No questions asked. “We’re fine,” I said, my voice hard. “She has me, and I will take care of her. No matter what.”

  “We know, dear,” said my mother-in-law, Margie, patting my hand. “But you can’t do this alone. You have Susan to think about, too.”

  I closed my eyes. “I know. I am. I always am.”

  “You can all pitch in together,” the doctor said, his tone soft. “As long as she has support, she’ll heal. She’ll recover. But if you’ve been experiencing difficulties, it’s very important that she not be stressed—”

  Understatement of the year. “We’re fine,” I said quickly, glowering at my in-laws. “I’m not leaving her side.”

  “If you’ve been fighting,” the doctor repeated, locking gazes with me, “set it aside and make her your number-one priority. It’s important she be kept as calm as possible so her wounds can heal.”

  I took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay.”

  “What can we do?” her dad as
ked, holding hands with her mom. “How can we help her?”

  “I’d say take care of their child, and come by to visit once or twice a day, but don’t overdo it. Don’t push her too hard.” The doctor smiled at them. “She needs you, too, but I want her to focus on getting better so she can go home with her husband. It’s the best thing for her.”

  “Right.” Margie nodded. “That makes sense. She needs to feel safe with him.”

  “Exactly. She needs one strong connection, and in this case? It should be with him.” The doctor headed for the door, but paused. “Unless there’s a reason he shouldn’t be her person? I’m sensing tension in the room. If it’s better, she could stay with—”

  “We’re fine,” I said.

  “He’s fine,” Senator Wallington said at the same time.

  “All right.” The doctor stared at us and nodded once. “Again, it’s an honor to meet you, sir. You’ll have my vote.”

  “Thank you.”

  The doctor turned to me. “Mr. Coram? A word, please?”

  “Yes.” I looked at my in-laws. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time,” Margie said, smiling tightly at me. “We’ll stay with her.”

  Once we were out in the hallway, the doctor sighed. “I’m sorry to say it, but I have more bad news.”

  “What?” I fisted my hands. “What is it?”

  He gripped my shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “Regrettably, when the body goes into shock, it’s often too much for a growing baby to handle. The body rebels, and it just kind of shuts down.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out why the hell he was babbling on about babies and shock. Had he gotten his charts messed up? We weren’t pregnant. “Okay?”

  “What I’m saying is…” He hesitated. “The baby didn’t make it.”

  “The baby…” I broke off, comprehension hitting me.

  The throwing up. The weird behavior with the coffee. The way she’d jumped when I touched her nipples. And when she’d woken up, she’d asked if Susan was okay, and then she’d asked again, only this time she’d said “baby.” I’d assumed she was confused and asking about Susan again. She hadn’t been. She’d been pregnant.