“Holly, Sy’s here to see you.” My mom’s voice breaks through my distant stare.

“I don’t want to see anyone.” I look up and realize silent tears are falling from her tired eyes and I know I’ve caused them. My mom has always been beautiful. Her flawless skin and perfectly sitting hair was one of the things I admired when growing up. Standing before me now¸ I realize that woman is long gone. Worry lines that were never there fill her forehead and run down around her sad eyes. I know she hasn’t left me for more than a few hours in the last two weeks and she’s no doubt exhausted, but it hasn’t stopped me from being difficult.

“Holly,” she says again, breaking through the haze surrounding me.

“What?” I snap, over talking about Sy.

“He has sat outside your room every day for the last two weeks,” she informs me; her tone speaks of disapproval. She thinks I’m rude. Maybe I am, but I can’t bear to see him right now.

“Just don’t push it,” I whisper, hating myself for putting her through this.

“Do you really mean what you just said, about death?” she whispers, throwing me off for a moment. We were talking about Sy and now death? “You were mumbling while you were sitting there,” she explains when she sees the confused look on my face.

“No, Mom,” I lie, not knowing what I mean anymore. “I was just thinking aloud,” I tell her, hoping she believes me.

“Have you been talking to the grief counselor when they’ve stopped by?”

“Mom, I promise I’m fine.”

“Okay, good. Then tell Sy yourself. Tell him you don’t want to see him, and maybe he will listen to you.” I hold in the initial panic, hoping the steps the doctor taught me last week will help me through this moment.

“I’m not telling him anything, Mom.”

“You will be,” Sy’s voice interrupts mine, and instantly I’m taken back to the place I’m trying desperately to forget.

“No,” I manage to get out before my chest tightens as confusion clouds my mind. It’s like a sudden and terrible awareness of the world around me—like I’m watching myself from a distance.

I struggle to catch my breath; each pull of air stretches out my heart.

“Holly?” I hear my mom’s faint voice, but I’m too taken in the moment. My hand goes to my chest; the overwhelming feeling to run burns through me. If I could just get out of this room, maybe I could breathe.

“Holly,” Sy’s deep murmur anchors me to the bed. The man that tailspins me into a panic, now has the calming effect I need.

“Deep breaths.” The timbre of his voice is soft and controlled. “Focus on me,” he instructs as I clutch hard at my hospital gown. “You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.” His words slowly chase the intense pain away. “Close your eyes.” He continues to take control of the situation and my body listens. Closing my eyes, I continue with my breathing exercises and soon the sensation of my world spinning slows as the numbness separates me from reality. I stay in it, not caring if I ignore the world.

“Good girl,” my mom finally says, reminding me she too just witnessed another of my panic attacks. I block it out. Worrying about it will probably set me off again. Instead, I focus on the slow rhythm of my deep breathing. To the room, I look as though I’ve returned, coming back calmly after what just transpired, but to me, I return with a piece of my sanity missing. My body feels heavy and my head foggy. After five minutes of silence, I build up enough courage to open my eyes.

“Welcome back,” Sy says first, and I can’t bring myself to look his way.

“Please go,” I plead, feeling the tears start to fall.

“Don’t make me go,” he replies and the anguish in his voice makes me want to cave, to let him stay, but I can’t even look at him.

“Please,” I repeat, turning away from him and protecting myself under the itchy hospital blanket.

“Holly—” my mom pleads, but I cut her off.

“I can’t do this with him here,” I tell her honestly. Just knowing he witnessed my meltdown has my chest tightening again.

“I don’t want to go, but I will,” he finally replies after moments of silence. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t,” I say, knowing I won’t want to see him tomorrow.

“I will and I will wait outside this door until you see me, Holly,” he warns, his tone telling me he means every word of his threat, but I don’t reply. There’s no point. The room is quiet, but I don’t chance a look. I need him gone. After a few more minutes, I hear the door click shut, but at his exit, I realize the heaviness in my heart doesn’t leave, the gunshot wound to my stomach doesn’t stop throbbing, and the darkness I crave never takes me.

“You know you have to tell him,” my mom finally speaks after a few beats of silence.

“I know, Mom,” I snap, regretting it instantly. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. One minute I’m having a breakdown and the next I’m angry. “I will,” I say gentler this time. “I just need to get through these panic attacks.”

She knows without me telling her that Sy was the father of my baby. She asked me the first day I was awake. I didn’t deny it. What was the point? I did make her promise she would never tell anyone. I decided when the doctor told me I had lost the baby that it wasn’t meant to be. Getting into that side of things with Sy would only spell trouble, and somehow in my messed-up head, I thought it would be better. But as the days go on, it doesn’t make me feel better. I mean, how do you deal with the loss of someone who didn’t have a chance to live?

No matter how hard I try, the memory of waking up in this room and asking about my baby has the darkest of clouds descending over me. The doctor's silence told me everything I needed to know. I didn’t know until that very moment that the thought of not having my child nestled inside of my womb would be the most heartbreaking thing I would ever have to endure. To know the baby you were carrying is no more, where only a week earlier, its heart was thumping with life, fills me with a pain so deep I don’t think it will ever fade. I feel alone, lost to the emptiness that settles within me and I don’t understand.

“The doctors said it’s normal, Holly.” She comes to sit on my bed, her warm hand taking my own. I know they’ve said it’s normal to experience all these feelings after a trauma, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

“Darling girl, you know I’ll support anything you decide, but that man out there is fighting the darkness just as you are. I see it in his face. You shouldn’t be pushing him away.” I don’t say anything, just keep staring ahead, my eyes growing heavy. “No man sits outside a hospital room fighting his demons for no reason. Give him a chance.” I agree with what she is saying, I see it in Sy’s eyes, but I can’t do it. I can’t push past it yet.

“I’m not ready,” I simply say, knowing she won’t understand. No one understands.

“Okay, darling.” Her hands go to my cheeks, wiping away my silent tears. “I love you, Holly Bear,” she says as my eyes close.

“Holly Bear,” I whisper my childhood name back to her. “I love you, Mom,” I say just as sleep takes me.

My exhaustion blankets me. I love my mom; her love is beyond comparable. I’m so thankful for her trying to dissipate the clouds of darkness surrounding me, even if it doesn't work. As my mind drifts into slumber, I wonder if I would have been a mother like her, sitting by my daughter’s side while she tries to push everyone away?

And just like that, I’m back in my nightmare.

CHAPTER TEN

Sy

“Holly,” I plead, pumping her chest eight beats before blowing my breath into her body. Fuck, I never thought I would ever have to do this again.

“Don’t you die,” I yell between breaths, remembering the feeling of loss and never wanting to have to live through it again.