I open my eyes and immediately reclose them. A piercing pain stabs behind my eyes and nausea rolls through me. Breathing slowly to calm my wayward stomach, I decide there is no reason to get out of bed today.

I feel like I had just fallen back asleep when an irritating knock persists at my door. Glancing at the clock, I see that it is one-fifteen p.m. Who can possibly be visiting me? Groaning, I start the process of slowly getting up. Whoever is at the door is just going to have to be patient with me. I finally make it to a standing position when the searing pain returns behind my eyes. I stumble forward, knocking over a small table by my bed.

Get up, I plead with myself as darkness slowly encroaches on my vision. You must get up. But no matter how much I plead with myself, I cannot.

Landon

Hearing the crash, I cease knocking. “Brooke! Beagchaithnini sneachta!” I yelled before starting to kick the door in. The lock gives way easily. Damn and blast! Anyone could just strolled in here if they wanted to! I would think about that later.

“Brooke!” I shout again. I hear a small groan from the bedroom. She is alive. Racing to the door, I come to a halt as I witness the awful scene in front of me.

Brooke is curled in a ball on the ground. A small decorative table is toppled over, and broken pottery and dirt spread about her from what I assume was a plant that rested on the table. I knelt down in front of her.

“Brooke. Beagchaithnini sneachta.” I gently brush back her hair and feel for a pulse. Thump. Thump. It is there. It is not very strong, but it is there. Cradling her in my arms, I lift her off the floor.

We are too far away from the city for an ambulance to get here very fast. So I quickly lay her down in the back seat, buckling her up as best I can with her on her side before hopping in the driver’s seat. I press the pedal to the floorboard, and head to the closest hospital.

*****

“Somebody help me!” I yell as I speed up the emergency doors of the local hospital.

A woman in scrubs ran out to greet me as I am opening the back door. “What can I help you with, sir?” she asks.

“It’s my wife,” I say as I pull her out of the vehicle, bridal style. That is when I freeze. She looks like she was sleeping as held her tightly. I realize I did not carry her like this on our wedding night. Why didn’t I carry her over the threshold? Why did I waste so much time being angry with her?

“Sir? Sir. Sir!” I look up at the nurse. “We need you to put her on the gurney, please.”