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  On the drive back to the hospital, I slide my finger across the screen to unlock her cellphone. Jesus. Something big clearly happened; she has over fifty-eight missed calls, and a matching fifty-eight voicemails. From a mixture of each band member, but because Liam left the most messages and texts altogether, I press send returning his call.

  Liam answers sounding worried, and a bit pissed. “NATALIE!!! Where have you been? What in the hell happened?”

  Before he can get another word out I interrupt him, pissed off myself “Its Layla, what in the fuck happened out there? What did you guys do to her?”

  “What are you talking about? She disappeared, and I have been trying to reach her all day. She hasn’t returned any of my calls. Fuck. We canceled our next few shows to find her.” By his agonized tone of voice, and the sincerity laced around his words, I quickly realize whatever happened, had nothing to do with him.

  Liam crossed off the list. Four more to go.

  “I don’t know what you guys did to her, but whatever happened, it had to have been bad. Real fucking bad.” I tell him, my voice ending on a crack unable to hold the tears back.

  “What are you talking about? What are you not telling me? What happened?”

  “She’s in a coma, Liam. The doctors can’t tell me when or if she will wake up.” I tell him, while gulping for air. My anger at this entire situation has me so worked up, I am reduced to tears.

  “What hospital? I’ll be there tonight.” Convinced he truly cares for Nat, I give him the address to the hospital. He agrees to meet me there as soon as he can.

  Chapter 3

  Layla

  Day Three: Liam showed up in the middle of the night. I was asleep on a fold out chair, next to Natalie’s bed when he came in. He woke me up long enough to let me know he was here, and I passed back out.

  Waking up this morning to one of the nurses coming in, I first looked over to Nat, hoping she had awakened, only to have my hopes crash down again. I then looked for Liam. He was standing on the other side of the bed, holding her hand, looking into her pale, expressionless face.

  He must have stayed awake all night. His lips were pinched shut and black, purple bags were lining his eyes. I lay there on the green fold out chair sprawled all over, watching him. Anyone with eyes could see that he holds a strong connection with Nat. He cares for her deeply; his heart is on his sleeve, and his emotions are flowing out as freely as a river. Part of me is glad that someone other than me seemed to give a shit about her well-being. Another part of me is jealous; it’s a connection that only Nat and I have shared for years.

  Liam glances at me and notices I am awake. He informs me that the doctors haven’t been in yet to give us today’s news; if something might have changed throughout the night. My fingers are still crossed, and my prayers are being sent repeatedly.

  I haven’t showered or changed my clothes in days, and I don’t care. Hopefully Liam doesn’t mind either. I stand up out of the bed, and shove the cushioning back in, making it a chair once again. Deciding I should give Liam some time alone with her, I tell him I am going to head to the cafeteria. That I’ll grab us some coffee and breakfast.

  By the time I come back in, Liam has already pulled a chair to her bedside. I pull a chair up to the other side of her, careful not to disrupt the machines on this side of the bed. I hand him his coffee and breakfast sandwich I picked up on the lower floor, before I take a seat and start eating.

  **********

  We have now sat in complete silence for more than three hours, still waiting on her doctor. We sit listening to the unceasing beeping of the machines hooked up to her. She has tubes pushing oxygen into her lungs, with the use of a respirator, breathing for her. An IV inserted into her hand, shoving fluids into her body, so she stays hydrated. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was lifeless.

  Nurses come in throughout the day, checking Natalie’s stats. Lifting her limbs and stretching them out. Rolling her to one side, then the other. All to prevent her muscles from stiffening, and bed sores. They Change the bags of fluid, and take samples of her blood, to run even more tests.

  Sometime not long after the sun has set, a doctor knocks on the door. “Layla? Can I please speak to you for a moment outside in the hall?” Obviously he meant in private.

  “Whatever you have to say, you can say freely in front of Liam.” I reply sternly.

  I don’t want to leave Natalie’s side to hear what he has to say, and frankly, Liam rushed to be here and canceled a show. He has a right to know as well. What came out of his mouth next, floored me. It was like the floor dropped beneath me, and sucked me, chair and all, in.

  “Well, as you are aware the patient, your friend Natalie Wright, took an extreme amount of the opiate Oxycodone. This resulted in an overdose. As of right now the respirator is still breathing for her, and she is still showing very little brain activity. It’s been seventy two hours, and there is still no change. If she is to wake up, there is a very high chance she will have severe brain damage. She would be very lucky if she were able to speak or walk. She has a possibility of having no use of her motor skills. Again these things are not guaranteed. I am only advising you, with my experience in these types of situations, that maybe you should consider saying goodbye.” He says in a cruel impassioned insensitive way.

  Ignoring the doctor, I glance at Liam and see that there are tears rimming his eyes, threatening to fall. I feel the same way.

  How do I reply to that?

  Does he want an answer right now? I don’t know if I would ever have an answer to that. I look back to the doctor, and he is giving me an expectant look.

  “I don’t know. I am still holding out hope that she will wake up. She will be okay. If you came here for an answer, you are not going to get one today.” I say.

  I need time; we need to give her time. There is no way I could make a decision as serious as this in a minute. The doctor reiterates what he had just said, like I didn’t hear him the first fucking time. Then he finally makes his departure. I open my mouth to discuss what happened with Liam, but freeze.

  How could I even consider letting her go?

  Day Four: For four long, emotionally brutal days now, we have sat here. Taking turns in shifts watching over her, holding our hope strong, while doctor after doctor has relayed the same news, that there was very little activity in brainwaves. That if she is to survive, there is a chance that she wouldn’t be the same person. She could remain in a coma for the rest of her life. Or if she were to miraculously wake up, she could and would have major motor skills issues. That we should give up, let her go in peace.

  When we hit eighteen, she made me her health care proxy. She was advised to choose someone she trusted, because she had such a large trust of money left to her by her parents. Her lawyer had strongly suggested it would be in her best interest, were some freak accident to happen to her. I just hadn’t expected to have to ever make such a choice.

  Liam and I decided it would be best if we went home last night, before taking on such a big decision; a decision that could never be changed. It would be irrevocably permanent. He suggested we sleep on it. That it wasn’t something I should take lightly. He asked to sleep in her room and as much as I wanted to call dib’s for her bed, I couldn’t. I’ve had her in my life much longer than he has, and I could tell in a short time’ that had they known each other, he’d have formed a similar connection to her, as the one she and I shared.

  After sleeping six hours, I came to the conclusion that I am truly a selfish person. I don’t want to let her go. Not now. Not ever.

  After a quick shower this morning, Liam and I decided to stop for a quick breakfast, and then make our way to the hospital. He’s driving my car, and I am still undecided as to what I am going to do. I will never be ready to just let her leave this world, to leave me.

  I just, I can’t.

  I follow Liam down the halls of the hospital on autopilot. When in actuality, I just want to turn around an
d run as far away from this as I can, so I can prolong having her in my life. I don’t want to face the numerous doctors' scrutinizing faces; that I am a monster, for wanting to keep her alive in such a way.

  When we enter her room, I look to the bed, expecting to find her laying there unresponsive, but she’s not.

  She’s awake.

  Chapter 4

  Natalie

  I don’t think I have ever believed in a heaven or a hell, a God or a devil. Wherever I am though, it fucking sucks. The smell of sanitizer is burning my nose. I can’t open my eyes, as they are crusted shut. My throat is scratchy and dry, and there is something blocking me from being able to swallow. Fighting the urge to gag, I bring my hands to my eyes, rubbing out the sand that is sealing my eyes like superglue.

  Using all that I have, I manage to open my eyes a crack. My vision is hazy at best, but it looks to be a classically white hospital room. A needle is puncturing my hand, creating an entrance to administer medicines. I can make out a monitor of some sort, that’s probably connected to me in some way. The machine that sounds like air compressing, is what I am guessing to be a respirator. That is what’s hooked to the tube inserted into my throat.

  I want it the fuck out of me now.

  I can hear sounds all around me, a repetitive beeping from something and feet shuffling on the floor outside. I’m strongly tempted to start ripping this crap off of me. My eyes are a fighting force against me, heavy and tired.

  I am alone.

  I wrap my hands around the hospital beds arm rails, attempting to pull myself up. I try at least a dozen times. Each time it’s getting harder and harder to maintain a grip with my hands.

  How long have I been in here?

  Isn’t there some kind of alert sent to a nurse or doctor that I am awake?

  **********

  I thought hospitals made routine rounds. I was strongly mistaken. I’ve been sitting here for at least a half hour, awake and alone. There is a remote that has a button I can press to call for a nurse, but because its cord is coming out of the television, it’s currently dangling inches above the floor. Said television is feet from me and since my body is so weak, it’s impossible for me to reach.

  A few people have passed, but because I have a tube inserted into my mouth, I can’t speak. I can’t yell out to get their attention. My throat is beyond parched, and I need a God damned drink.

  The only guess I can come up with, of why I am here is that Layla found me. She is the only one with keys and the only guests we ever have are hers. Once she’s done with them, they won’t be making any return visits. So I am positive she’s the reason I am alive. Still. Why did Layla have to find me?

  I am sick and tired of living in constant emotional pain. My heart hurts. My head hurts. My body just fucking hurts. Steele wasn’t the main reason of why I did what I did. Sure he was a piece of it. The send-off, if you will. But not the main reason. His actions caused the pain I had been carrying around for years, to intensify. I can only hope to never see Ryan Fucking Hurst’s’ face ever again. He tricked me, and of course me ever the fool, allowed him to. The pain he caused was only the icing on my already baked cake.

  The past five years I’ve been struggling to hide myself, and now the one time I want some attention, need attention, there is no one in here, waiting by my bedside, holding my hand.

  I wince in pain, at the thought that Lals must have found me. The pain that I must have caused her. Probably the reason she isn’t here right now. I hate to pity myself, and usually I don’t, but I am only wishing that my unintended plan had worked.

  I am so tired of suffering through this pain, aching pain that I am always carrying around, failing to ever reduce the hurt that is constantly running through me. Every night I fall asleep, I’ve always hoped that when I awoke it would be a little bit less. That time would be on my side, my friend. Time, like most people in my life, failed. It failed to allow me any kind of relief or peace.

  Asking that I be long gone before Layla found me, was the last time I asked time for a favor. Of course with fate or maybe this worlds fucked up spite, time repaid me with a smack in the fucking face.

  Coming out of my self-induced trance of a verbal rant running wild in my head, a nurse finally walks in.

  “It’s so nice to see you awake. My name is Sally, how ya doing Hun?” She asks.

  How do I answer? Oh, I am fucking great. I woke up by myself. I need a glass of water oh, and how about I can’t reply because this damn tube is shoved down my throat. I hope for her sake she isn’t my nurse for long. She obviously has no common sense, and I have no patience for stupidity. Her question did not seem rhetorical. I manage to let out a grumble.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot ya had some breathing issues. Maybe I should give your chart another glance. I will be right back. I’m going to get another nurse to help me get ya out of all that stuff. Just stay put. Don’t go anywhere all right, Hun?”

  Yeah that would be a great idea. Maybe you should have glanced at my chart before you came in. Where the hell do you think I am going to go? I’m going to get off this fucking bed and go hide? A Better thought I might just leave the hospital. What would you say then? I manage to grumble an agreement.

  She returns pretty quickly with another nurse.

  “It might hurt a little bit Hun, but don’t worry that’s normal. I’m going to lay you flat on your back all right? Shelia over here is going to hold your hands down. It’s only to protect you. It can be painful and that might make you want to pull it out yourself. Blink once for yes and twice for no, if you are able.”

  I blink once. Just get this thing out of my mouth.

  She removes the respirator and slowly pulls the tubes out of my throat. It isn’t the most comfortable thing I have ever experienced. As soon as it’s out, I attempt to ask for a glass of water, but before I can do so the nurse already has a cup in hand. I look up at her in surprise. Well she isn’t as flighty as I had initially thought.

  “Don’t look so surprised. Almost all patients request a drink when this is removed.” She says smiling.

  I gulp the entire paper cup of water down. When done, I try to ask for another, but my voice comes out in a light whisper. Without saying anything, she takes the cup in hand and walks into what I presume to be the bathroom located inside of my room, and fills it up. I take that from her offering hand and down it, as well.

  “Dear, the doctor is on another call but as soon as he returns, I will inform him immediately that you’re awake. He will want to speak with you, and run some more tests. It’s a miracle you woke up, really. I glanced at your chart while I grabbed the extra nurse. Seems the doctor thought you weren’t going to wake up Hun.”

  She lifts my hospital bed back up into a reclining position, and leaves me be. I should have asked for the remote. That way I could have watched some television and entertained myself with stupid reality shows, while waiting for this busy doctor. Instead, I lay there daydreaming.

  Daydreaming about Steele. About that night.

  The night that I believed to be a game changer. The night that had meant something to me, and obviously nothing to him. Unwanted tears leak from my eyes. I need to find a way to toughen myself up, if I now have to actually live. Then I have to find a way for Steele, or anyone else like him to not affect me so much. To keep them out for good.

  As I am thinking about my new plan, I hear some feet shuffling on the linoleum floor outside my door. I look to the doorway to see who’s coming in. I go wide eyed. It’s Liam. He stops suddenly, like he doesn’t believe what he sees, and then I hear an oomph. Layla, trailing behind smacks right into him.

  Chapter 5

  Liam

  The past few days have been an absolute nightmare. The guys are in a hotel not even a block away. I still haven’t found a way to tell Layla I didn’t come alone. Even if I had tried, they would never have let me. When I finally find my balls to tell the intimidating harlot, she’s not going to be happy.

 
Ryan is another story altogether.

  I knew the second I heard Layla’s voice something wasn’t right. When she confirmed my suspicions, it was all I could do to refrain from bawling like a fucking baby. When I hung up the phone from speaking to her, I knew had no other choice but to tell the guys and to cancel all the shows we had booked for the next few months.

  That’s the thing about us. As a band, we’re family. When one is down and out, we are all down and out together. She might have only been in our family for a very short time, but that’s all it takes for us. We don’t let just any straggler join us. Ryan’s initial intention wasn’t one of sainthood, but I like to believe that it eventually caught up to him; the cruelty of the situation.

  If it didn’t, then why would he have put me in a damn chokehold to find out where she had run off to?

  He still won’t mention what happened between him and Natalie. He’s keeping that line closed, sealed and locked away. After I got done disclosing what I knew to the guys, Ryan took command.

  “You all have three minutes. Grab what you can’t live without. If you are not downstairs when the cab drives away then you’re staying. We don’t have time to waste. On the way, I’ll book our tickets.” Without haste, he departed the hotel room.

  I never unpacked, so I ran to my room grabbed my bag and took the elevator downstairs. As he said, Ryan was waiting. No, pacing back and forth, hands tugging at one another. A cab was already parked along the sidewalk waiting on us. Without a minute to spare, the rest of the guys were there, packed bags in hand, ready to fly back to Boston.

  The entire flight my stomach was in knots swirling, and the emotions I had on lock down were fighting to spring out. None of us spoke. I knew I had to say something. Layla had called me. I don’t know what happened, but I do know if Ryan is acting this worried, this nervous, we all should be.