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Chapter 23

Category:Contents    Author:Gump

There is only pain. My head, my chest . . . burning pain. My side, my arm. Pain. Pain and hushed words in the gloom. Where am I? Though I try, I cannot open my eyes. The whispered words become clearer . . . a beacon in the darkness.

“Her ribs are bruised, Mr. Grey, and she has a hairline fracture to her skull, but her vital signs are stable and strong.”

“Why is she still unconscious?”

“Mrs. Grey has had a major contusion to her head. But her brain activity is normal, and she has no cerebral swelling. She’ll wake when she’s ready. Just give her some time.”

“And the baby?” The words are anguished, breathless.

“The baby’s fine, Mr. Grey.”

“Oh, thank God.” The words are a litany . . . a prayer. “Oh, thank God.”

Oh my. He’s worried about the baby . . . the baby? . . . Little Blip. Of course. My Little Blip. I try in vain to move my hand to my belly. Nothing moves, nothing responds.

“And the baby? . . . Oh, thank God.”

Little Blip is safe.

“And the baby? . . . Oh, thank God.”

He cares about the baby.

“And the baby? . . . Oh, thank God.”

He wants the baby. Oh thank God. I relax, and unconsciousness claims me once more, stealing me away from the pain.

Everything is heavy and aching: limbs, head, eyelids, nothing will move. My eyes and mouth are resolutely shut, unwilling to open, leaving me blind and mute and aching. As I surface from the fog, consciousness hovers, a seductive siren just out of reach. Sounds become voices.

“I’m not leaving her.”

Christian! He’s here . . . I will myself to wake—his voice is strained, an agonized whisper.

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