Page 90 of Her Sloth

“But she’s alive?” and tears shoot into my eyes.

“She is in a medically induced coma, due to the severity of her injuries,” says the doctor. “I don’t want to bring your hopes up too much; we don’t know if she is going to get through this.”

I sit up, and everything turns dizzy.

“I need to see her,” I say, swinging the legs out of the bed regardless of the pain.

I am gently pushed back.

“We’ll have a chat first,” says the doctor. “About you.”

“I don’t care about me,” I say. “She⁠—“

“But I do. And the police I have to call the moment you are medically available to be interviewed.”

I swallow hard.

Close my eyes.

We fucked up big time.

I fucked up big time.

None of this would have happened if we had done it together from the start.

I am so stupid⁠—

“I can delay that call for a small amount of time,” she says. “Provided your cooperation.”

I open my eyes and nod.

“Good,” she says, “Now, if you please follow my finger.”

She does a complete checkup with me.

Tells me about the minor burns on my hands and legs.

I didn’t even realize I had them.

“Looks as good as it can,” she finally says.

“Tell me about Addy,” I say, longingly. I have to know what is going on. “I need to see her.”

The doctor takes a deep breath in and slides a chair to the bedside.

“What I am going to tell you isn’t going to be easy,” she says.

“Life isn’t easy; this, however, is,” I say, something the doctor seems to appreciate.

“She came in unconscious, revived three times on the way here, probably by the body overload from severe burns. Adding severe head trauma.”

I am falling again.

“We tried to get her out of the coma, but the pain was unmanageable, and her body crashed. Right now, we cannot tell where it is going. Cases like this can go either way.”

“So she might die,” I say. Not as a question, but a fact.

“Yes. But she might make it.”