The Guilty - Jason Pinter [99]
shook his head.
"I couldn't get into the hospital, and nobody would speak
on her condition. But it looked pretty bad."
Paulina closed her eyes, dismissed James with a wave of
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her hand. When he left, she sat back, folded her hands behind
her head. Then with a snap she sat forward, pushing the
sympathy from her mind. Then she turned on her computer,
and began to type.
46
There is no place whose atmosphere gives off such a potent
mixture of calm and anxiety as a hospital room. The beeps
come at such even intervals that if you forget their purpose
for a moment, they could easily lull you to sleep. Then you
remember what they represent and that knot swells up in your
stomach, you look at the prone figure being monitored by
machines, and you feel like you might never sleep again.
Watching Mya breathe through a tube, that's how I felt.
Chairs in hospital rooms weren't any better. They were all
metal and odd contours. As if the hospital didn't want you
relaxing on the job.
I was alone in the room with Mya. Her mother, Cindy
Loverne, was asked to leave by hospital staff. She arrived
shortly after Mya and broke down immediately. Screaming.
Crying. Asking how God could allow her husband and
daughter to possibly be taken in the same week. She asked if
God was testing her strength as a woman, as a person. It
wasn't God who had done this to her family.
Cindy had hugged me. I hadn't seen her in almost a year
and a half, the last time being in a different hospital room.
Again, watching Mya breathe. It was hard not to apologize
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to Cindy Loverne; meeting me was the worst thing that ever
happened to Mya.
The last time Mya was in the hospital she left with a barely
visible scar. But I always knew it was there, might as well
have been a bloodred tattoo.
If Mya survived this--the doctors had given her a thirty
percent chance of doing so--she wouldn't be so lucky this time.
Mya had suffered multiple skull fractures and a shattered
hip. It took three hours of surgery to reduce the swelling in
her brain, to fuse her bones back together. And that was the
good news. The doctors said thankfully she'd landed on her
side. That might have saved her life. If she'd landed on her
back or head, she would either be paralyzed or dead. At least
now she had a fighting chance. And I knew Mya was a
fighter. I knew it.
"Hey. Henry."
I turned around. Curt Sheffield was standing in the doorway. He was dressed in full uniform. The blue clashed against
the white walls. I noticed the gun on his belt, holstered, safe.
For a moment I thought about grabbing it, marching into the
street and stalking around the city until that bastard Roberts
showed his face. And then I would show him the same mercy
he showed everyone else. None.
Curt gestured for me to join him outside. I nodded, stood
up. Watched Mya's chest rise and fall.
I went into the hallway, followed Curt toward a small
waiting area. We both took seats.
"How is she?" he asked.
"She's got a battle ahead of her."
"She looks like the kind of girl who's fought a lot of battles
recently." I nodded, knew many of them were my fault.
"She's tough," I said. "Her hip will be fine. It's her head
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they're concerned about. They won't know how much
damage there is until the swelling comes down."
"Jesus," Curt said, shaking his head. "Thing like this, kind
of makes you want to become an atheist."
"Actually I've never prayed more in my life. But I'm pretty
sure God is considering revoking my baptism right now."
"You know this isn't your fault, right?" Curt watched me,
waited for a response. I didn't answer him. I couldn't.
Because it wouldn't be the answer he was hoping for. "Henry,
you know that, right?"
"Amanda," I said. "Have you..."
"She's staying with a co-worker tonight. You know she's
worried sick about you, man," Curt said. "Amanda's a hell of
a catch. It hurt her to see Mya like that. She just doesn't want
it to break you."
"It won't break me," I said. "But