I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as we followed the nurse through the E.R. My heart beat was racing at what must have been a million miles an hour.
After what seemed like centuries(though it was most likely only a few minutes), she halted outside of a room.
"Wait here for a minute. I'll check to see if she's stable enough for you to see her." She disappeared through the door.
We stood there in silence for a little while, before she poked her head back through the doorway.
"You can see her now, but please, try to keep your voices to a minimum." And with that, I took a deep breath, and followed Francis into the room.
I wasn't ready for the sight that met my eyes. Had I not known that ______ was lying in that bed, I would have assumed we had accidentally walked into the wrong room. She looked so pale and fragile, her head bandaged tightly. The white cloth, which obscured her usual shiny (h/c) hair, was stained with a dark red. A thick, bulky cast surrounded her left arm, as well as what parts of her torso were visible. Her eyes were closed, as if she were asleep. At least, I hoped she was only asleep...
The man beside me let out a choked sob and rushed over to the bedside, grabbing the hand that wasn't attached to her broken arm. As for me, I felt frozen in place. It was all I could do not to collapse on the floor. To keep from crying out.
I felt tears glide down my cheeks as I stood there, trying to accept the truth lying in the bed across the room.
After a moment, I regained some of my composure, and turned to the woman with the clipboard.
"Will... Will she be alright? When she wakes up, will ______ be okay..?"
She sighed and looked down at the medical sheets, frowning. "She suffered a great deal of head trauma from the fall. Physically, she should make a full recovery, but mentally...." The nurse took a deep breath. "If she wakes up-"
Francis suddenly shifted his attention to her. "If? What do you mean, if? ______, she 'as to wake up! Si elle ne se réveille pas, je n'ai aucune idée quelle défectuosité font!" He broke down completely, slipping into his native tongue and falling into a metal chair up against the wall.
I looked towards him in shock. I wasn't sure what bewildered me more, the fact that Francis was crying over a girl he wasn't trying to get into his pants, or that I wasn't the one who had turned into a sobbing heap of depression at the news.
At least, not on the outside.