A low and regular beeping sound filled the hospital room. In between each spike of noise, a silence fell, only broken on occasion by a chest wrenching intake of breath. River had been crying. Again. Yet, by distinctive definition, the word again seemed to imply there had been some sort of break between the outbursts of sadness. In reality, the young woman didn’t feel like she’d been able to stop the tears from falling for the past six days. Her lips were parted, trembling more noticeably with each teardrop that rolled across them. The noises of the hospital had become almost familiar by now but each beep of the heart monitor reminded her of something fairly dreadfully simple: Shane no longer had a heartbeat to measure. It had been exactly one hundred and fifty-one hours since she’d plucked up the phone at four am in the morning. The sound of his mother’s hysterical voice had been all she’d needed to hear to feel her world come crashing down around her. They had arrived on the woman’s doorstep at seven in the morning, their uniforms spotless and their faces stern and empty. My boy, Shane’s mother had wailed down the phone as River had fought to breathe, He’s not coming back. They’ve taken my boy. And if it hadn’t been for her fiancee’s mother she would not have known at all. They were supposed to be married in the Spring and the military records of their relationship could have become official but to the establishment....she may as well have not even existed to the person that she loved more than anything. Another hoarse sob escaped her as her fingers moved to the ring on her left hand. The man who had gotten down on one knee and stammered over his words like a little nervous boy was gone. Dead. Killed. Fucking murdered. She looked up at the window, peering at the setting sun through the blinds but ultimately after only a second or two it hurt her sore eyes. How long had it been since she’d slept? Or ate? She only drank water because the nurses handed it to her with fearful and pitiful expressions. Why should she get the liberty of such things when he’d never get to experience them again? Several more long minutes of a seemingly empty lifetime in the hospital room passed and finally, River steeled herself enough to look over her shoulder at the figure in the bed. The tubes. The gauze. The oh so familiar face slightly swollen with bruising and cuts. River felt a lump rise harshly in her throat and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. How blissful it must have been despite the physical pain to not know the final fate of their mutual connection. To not know that a person they both loved in different ways would never be able to speak to them again. Make them laugh with a stupid story or a goofy expression. Numbly, she pushed herself shakily to her feet. Her eyes were deep set and her face was blotchy. Each step closer to the bed made her heartbeat thunder a bit more and the sensation of nausea grew stronger with every movement. She must have been there with him. She must have seen him. Spoke to him. Been close enough to touch. And River...not for months. And never again. She was almost close enough to rest her hand on the railing when she processed the change in the heartbeat. The pace changed. The bed shifted. Her eyes widened and she almost slipped as she dashed for the door, throwing open with so much force that it shook. “Nurse!” She shouted down the hallway and saw three women move instantly as a high pitched sound filled the corridor. She stepped back and allowed them to rush past, feeling the tears swell in her eyes again. Either she was going to have to lose Taylor too or....she was going to have to wake up and come back to her. At least she deserved that.
