Rescued

by Priscilla West

  Hunter leaned back against the seat mumbling. His eyes looked sunken and feverish, but he was awake.

  Aunt Caroline called my uncle as she made her way out of the subdivision. I watched Hunter to see if there were any changes in his condition, but he was barely lucid. More than anything, he looked exhausted. His normally bright face had a gray pall to it as he lay there trying to keep his head up. After a while, he started to nod off.

  We were on the highway before I spoke. “Hunter has MS . . .” I managed to choke out. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you this earlier.”

  I blinked, trying to hold back the tears in my eyes. I knew that if I let myself feel the seriousness of this situation and start crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  “I’m sorry dear, that sounds terrible,” my aunt replied. “Does this happen often?”

  “No,” I said, a loud sob escaping from my lips. “At least, I don’t think so. Definitely not this bad.”

  Now that I had said it out loud, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears streamed endlessly down my face.

  Aunt Caroline stared at the road and nodded. I turned to look at Hunter again. He had fallen asleep and his chest was rising and falling slowly. For now, all the worries of the world had faded away.

  But what would he think once he woke up?

  Chapter Twenty

  WAKE

  The heart rate monitor beeped quietly, its eerie blue glow illuminating the room. I didn’t know how much time had passed. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone. It had been fourteen hours since Hunter was admitted. The sun was probably coming up soon.

  Aunt Caroline and Uncle Stewart had gone back home with the boys hours ago. There was no point in them being here anyway. Hunter was stable and my cousins needed to sleep. They were going to come back to check on us in the morning.

  Hunter’s chest rose and fell, his eyes darting around under his eyelids. Whatever he was dreaming about, I hoped it was good, because sooner or later he’d have to wake up to this nightmare. I let out a long sigh and rubbed my eyes. They were completely dry; I couldn’t cry anymore. I was totally drained.

  I heard shuffling on the bed and I bolted upright. Hunter was shifting around, his eyelids fluttering open.

  “Lorrie?”

  I scrambled to my feet and stood next to his bed. “Yes, I’m here.”

  His eyes were unfocused. He rubbed them with his hands, and for a second, I was worried about the IV on his arm falling out, but it stayed put.

  “Where . . . ” he started, before trailing off and looking around. His eyes fell on the needle in his arm. “FUCK!”

  I stepped back, shocked by his sudden outburst. Adrenaline rushed through my veins.

  “Shit. I’m sorry Lorrie. I’m just . . . fuck.”

  His eyes were becoming more clear and focused, but so was the pain on his face. I reached for his hand, gripping it tight.

  “How long was I out for?”

  “Maybe fifteen hours.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his face red. “I didn’t want to make things difficult for your aunt and uncle.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. They’re going to come back in the morning to see how you’re doing.”

  “Shit, I gotta move out. We were supposed to sign that lease today. For that apartment.”

  “What? You don’t need to worry about that right now. We’ll find a different place. Just worry about getting better.”

  “Your aunt and uncle have let me stay in the house for so long already, I gotta move out soon.”

  “Hunter, stop it. You have to focus on getting better first.”

  “I―” he stopped when he saw the look on my face. I wasn’t going to argue with him on this one.

  “Stop it.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “Okay fine. Can you get me some water?”

  I handed him a bottle of water from the nightstand. He twisted the cap open and took a long deep gulp. For a while, we sat in silence.

  A knock came at the door. It was followed by a doctor in a white coat coming into the room.

  “Oh good” she said. “You’re awake. Hunter, I’m Dr. Gallagher. How are you feeling?”

  Hunter eyed the doctor with cautiously. “Alright. Little groggy.”

  Dr. Gallagher picked up the clipboard by Hunter’s bed and looked through it, leafing through the pages.

  “Good,” she said. “Everything appears to be stable. How are your legs feeling?”

  “I dunno, a little weak I guess, but I can feel them.”

  She nodded and lifted the sheets so that Hunter’s legs were exposed. “I’m going to do a sensation test. Just tell me when you can feel me touching your legs okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Dr. Gallagher pulled out a cotton ball from the metal cart at the side of the room and started touching it to different spots on Hunter’s legs. He seemed to notice most of the times the cotton touched him. That was a good thing, right?

  Then she moved on to poking him at various spots on his leg with a pin. He seemed to notice most of those as well, but when she asked him to lift his legs or wiggle his toes, he could barely muster any movement at all. Sweat beaded on his brow with the effort and I could tell he was getting upset.

  After she was done, she started writing notes on her clipboard while Hunter and I watched. Hunter’s face got progressively darker, as we waited for Dr. Gallagher to finish taking her notes.

  “Well? What is it?” Hunter demanded when it looked like he couldn’t wait any longer.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Jensen. You had an exacerbation of your MS, which seems to have affected the nerves to your lower extremities. The good news is your sensory nerves still have roughly seventy percent functionality.”

  “So how come I can’t move my legs?” Hunter pointed angrily toward his lower half, taking shallow breaths.

  “Your motor nerves, the ones that control your muscles, seem to be the most negatively affected. That’s the biggest factor in reducing your mobility at the moment.”

  Hunter’s jaw clenched, his hands making fists by his side. I tried to meet his eyes, but he was staring off into the distance.

  My stomach dropped. This couldn’t be happening. Just yesterday he was fine and everything was going so well. I looked at Hunter but he just kept shaking his head like he was dazed. Why was this happening to him? He stopped fighting like the doctor told him too, so why had this happened now?

  “For how long?” I asked.

  Dr. Gallagher gave me a sympathetic look and then turned to Hunter. “It depends. Along with the motor nerves healing, there are issues with muscle degeneration since you’ll be in a wheelchair for a while. Physical therapy can certainly help. With some patients PT is enough to restore full mobility in as little as six months. Other patients may never recover their mobility again.”

  My heart sank.

  “The hospital can provide you with a wheelchair and we can refer you to a counselor to help you adjust to the . . . changes. You’ll come back for a checkup in two weeks and if it’s appropriate we’ll get you started on a physical therapy regimen.”

  Hunter started rocking back and forth, not making eye contact with either of us.

  Watching him like this was too much. I hugged his head close to my chest, kissing him on the forehead, and holding him to me. I wanted to cry but I bit back my sobs. If I let myself cry now, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  When the doctor left, Hunter continued staring off into space and rocking himself. I held him and didn’t say a word. What could I even say? After a few minutes, he finally stopped, seeming to snap out of it suddenly.

  “Shit. What day is it?”

  “What? I think it’s Saturday?” I looked at him, confused.

  His face sank. “Damnit. Your convention is today.”

  With everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten about it. He was right. The day of the convention had come. We had both been looking forward to going to
it, but it didn’t matter now.

  “Oh yeah, I guess I can’t make it,”

  “No, what are you talking about?” he said, speaking quickly, his words tripping over themselves. “You can still make it if you leave now. When does it start? Like two? It’s only seven in the morning right now.”

  “I don’t care about the art convention, Hunter. I want to be here with you.”

  “You worked so hard for it. You can’t miss your chance to exhibit.”

  “Hunter, I’m not leaving you to go to some art convention. How is that even a question?” It was irritating that he was so concerned about my stupid art convention when the doctor just told him that he might not be able to walk.

  “It’s fine, you heard the doctor, I’m stable now.”

  He looked anything but fine.

  “Why do you want me to leave so badly?” I asked, a little hurt. My face felt heated.

  “It’s such a big opportunity. They’ll have all the art schools there recruiting and stuff.” Hunter pointed in the direction he must’ve assumed Studsen was going to be.

  “I would have never won that competition if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t even have entered it. So stop talking, I’ve already decided. I’m not going without you.”

  Blood rushed to my ears and I felt a stinging in my eyes. Hunter let out a sigh, shaking his head.

  “You said you thought you were gonna drag us down, but now I see that it’s me,” he said, his voice low.

  “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true. We talked about this before, I know you’re strong enough for this.”

  “It’s different now. It’s not just some far off thing that might happen to me, now it’s fucking real.”

  He pounded the hospital bed with his fist. “I can’t fucking walk, Lorrie!”

  His words echoed in the room. Hunter grimaced, trying to hold a brave face, his eyes glistening. My heart was breaking into pieces but I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better.

  He continued before I could say anything. “Just leave me here. You need to go to the convention. Whatever happens to me, you can’t give up your future for me.”

  “YOU ARE MY FUTURE!” I shouted. My lips trembled as warm wet streaks fell down my face.

  Hunter’s eyes went wide and then he looked down into his lap. I sobbed, my entire body shaking with emotion.

  As I cried, rage boiled in my chest.

  This isn’t fair.

  We were so close to our happy ending. Hunter didn’t deserve this. He deserved so much more. I didn’t know if I could give it to him, but it didn’t matter. Hunter needed me now more than anything and I wasn’t going to let him push me away. Even if it hurt me. Even if it broke me.

  He sucked in a lungful of air and ran his hands through his hair.

  I let myself cry, sobs coursing through my body. Hunter didn’t say anything, his face somber.

  After I cried myself out, I took a few deep shuddering breaths to steady myself. Then I looked into his soft gray eyes and started with a shaky voice. “Hunter, you’re right. It is different now. Things have changed.”

  His eyes widened in surprise.

  “But you haven’t changed and I haven’t changed. The way we feel about each other hasn’t changed either. I promised to be by your side no matter what and I’m not leaving now. I love you, Hunter.”

  We sat there in silence, while my words hung in the air between us. He had been there for me, through so many things. He had absorbed so much of my pain and helped me heal, and now it was my turn to help him. I knew that I wasn’t over my own issues yet, but I couldn’t let them distract me from Hunter. He needed one hundred percent of me right now.

  It was terrifying, and I could hardly even think about what our future together would be like now, but I wasn’t going give up. Hunter never gave up on me, even when I pushed him away, even when I hurt him. I wasn’t going to give up on him either.

  Finally Hunter nodded slowly and let out a long breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for my hands and holding them to his lips. “I love you too. I’m so lucky to have you.”

  “No, I’m the lucky one,” I choked out. “Just don’t ever try to get rid of me like that again, okay?”

  His gray eyes looked to me with piercing intensity and he squeezed my hand tightly. “I won’t. I promise.”

  I stared deep into his eyes, hoping that we would be brave enough to face the challenges to come.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  CHANGES

  I was in a hospital room. The white walls and searing bright lights stretched away into the distance. Hunter lay in the one bed at the center of the room and I sat in a chair maybe ten feet away from it. Wicked looking surgical instruments lay on a cart nearby.

  What’s going on?

  Other than the chair, the hospital bed and the surgical cart, there was no other furniture in the room.

  Something wasn’t right. I didn’t remember Hunter’s hospital room being nearly this large. And why were there surgical instruments out? Hunter wasn’t going into surgery.

  I stood up from the chair and walked over to the bed. He was lying on his side, his back turned to me, his torso rising and falling slowly. Probably asleep.

  Then I looked down to where his legs were. Blood seeped through the sheets, spreading rapidly until it soaked through the entire bottom of the bed. In a panic, I reached for the sheets and pulled them off. His legs were gone. Two bloody stumps were all that remained.

  I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.

  Hunter was stirring. He turned around slowly, but his face looked different. Icy chills shot through my veins from head to toe.

  That’s not Hunter.

  Marco’s face stared at me, his eyes wide and crazed. I stumbled backward and fell.

  Then his mouth opened to speak.

  “I hope you’re recovering well.”

  My eyes sprang open. I sucked in lungfuls of air, trying to steady my breathing. My heart pounded against my ribcage and a slick layer of sweat covered my forehead.

  I was still in a hospital room, but this one was normal sized and dimly lit. Hunter lay a few feet away from me, sleeping soundly. His eyes were closed and peaceful. This was definitely Hunter. His legs were fully intact, and one foot stuck out from under the sheet. My face was hot and I felt ashamed of myself. Why did I even need to check? I was like a kid scared of the dark.

  Tears blurred my eyes and I wiped them away. The collar of my shirt was soaked with sweat, and my skin felt clammy.

  I hope you’re recovering well.

  I shivered. The hospital’s filtered air was too cold. It was okay. Hunter was going to be okay. We would be okay. I repeated it to myself like a mantra.

  Except that he couldn’t walk.

  Clenching my jaw, I tried to prevent my lips from trembling even though I knew no one was watching me. Hunter might wake up at any second, and I didn’t want him to see me crying. Wasn’t I the one who wanted to be by his side to help him through this? Somehow I doubted that it would help him if he saw me in the middle of a panic attack.

  It had already been a few days since Hunter had been admitted to the hospital. A number of other doctors had come and gone. They seemed to confirm what Dr. Gallagher had said about Hunter’s legs. He might be able to walk again, but only after extensive physical therapy. In any case, there was no guarantee.

  The reality of the situation was starting to sink in for me, and the nightmares came along for the ride. It seemed like every time I closed my eyes, some horrific vision greeted me, usually involving Marco in some way. The change in Hunter’s condition seemed to have intensified my trauma over what happened to my parents at the worst possible moment. I knew I needed to be there for Hunter, but the nightmares were making it hard.

  Other than his legs, Hunter was recovering well from the flare-up. They were trying to switch him to a different treatment. He’d still have to do injections, but it was a dif
ferent drug. The good news was that despite the scary flare-up, the doctors said Hunter’s disease was not progressing as aggressively as they had feared.

  All in all, the news wasn’t terrible. But it still didn’t help me shake the horrible feeling at the bottom of my gut. I had promised Hunter that I would be there for him, but as the days wore on, and the nightmares ate at me, the more I wondered if I would be able to live up to that promise.

  My fingers dug into the arms of the chair I was sitting in, making it a little slippery. Hunter’s chest rose and fell peacefully.

  His attitude seemed pretty good the past few days, cheerful even. When the doctors had offered him a reference to counseling services, he had insisted that he was okay with his situation and just wanted to get better. I didn’t know if he was just pretending to be cheerful, or if he was just in denial about the seriousness of the situation. If he really was in denial, I was terrified of what might happen when he finally realized that even in the best case scenario, he wouldn’t be able to walk for several months.

  Footsteps interrupted my thoughts and a nurse came into the room. Hunter stirred at the noise and opened his eyes sleepily, rubbing them and stretching his arms out. The nurse looked at me curiously, before turning to Hunter.

  “Good to see you’re resting, I’ve got the discharge papers here and the wheelchair is right outside in the hallway. You can sign the paperwork, and whenever you’re ready you can head out on your way.”

  Hunter pushed himself upright in the bed, a big sleepy grin stretching across his face. “Sweet, let’s get going. Snorrie, you ready?”

  I nodded and but I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. We had been looking forward to Hunter being discharged today, but right now, I needed some time to compose myself.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “Just give me a second, I’m going to clean up a bit.”