Page 150 of For I Have Sinned

When the handles fall to the side, a small sigh of relief leaves me as I see the familiar fabric tucked on the inside.

My blue dress is the first thing I see, and I can instantly tell that it is full of creases, which makes sense considering it has been crumpled up in this bag for a while. Pushing it aside, I find my phone at the bottom of the bag.

The screen is black; surely the device is dead from not being used for some time. I dig it out and press the button on the side, hoping it will miraculously turn on. My chest deflates when nothing happens. I realize if I want to get hold of anybody, then I need to find a charger.

Taking the bag off my lap, I set it in the chair next to me and use my good arm to help me out of the seat. I still feel unbalanced, my head woozy from the trauma and the medicine, but I manage to wobble to the front desk to speak with a nurse.

It is a different one than before, and I swallow, wetting my throat before I ask, “Excuse me? Do you have an extra charger?”

“Let me check.” The nurse kindly smiles at me and opens a drawer to her left. I watch as her face falls in confusion, and that expression worries me. “I thought we had one in here. Someone must be using it already.”

Her tone is apologetic, and I flash a tight smile. “Oh, okay.”

She must see the defeat in my eyes because she says, “You can use mine.”

Bending over in her chair, she reaches under the desk, and when she sits back up, there is a charger in her hand.

“Thank you so much,” I say with an abundance of gratitude. “I’ll bring it back once I’m done.”

“No rush,” she waves me off. “I’m here all night.”

I give her another grateful smile and head back to my seat. Luckily, there is an outlet right under my chair, but the process of plugging in the charger is a struggle. I crouch down, wincing at the soreness in my ribs. To reach the outlet, I need to move the chair a bit, so I set the phone and charger down in order to use my good hand to pull the chair off the wall.

Once there is a better opening, I grab the charger and push it into the outlet. Sliding the chair back to its original position, I carefully stand up, then sit down, and plug my phone in.

Moments later, I hear a door open, and Nurse Sophie walks towards me. I immediately stand, not caring if pain accompanies me as I stare at her with hopeful eyes.

“They just finished surgery, and everything went great. The bullet missed his heart.”

“He’s okay?” I ask with an unsteady voice.

She nods. “He is. Recovery will be long, and the doctor would like to keep him in the hospital to keep an eye on him.”

“When can I see him?” I ask with urgency.

“Once he is settled in his room, I’ll come get you.”

I thank her with a nod and let my eyes meet the floor as she walks away. A silent tear rolls down my cheek, knowing that he is okay. He survived. Inhaling and exhaling deeply to collect myself, I wipe the tear away, and when I look up, I see Amelia and Vince sprinting towards me.

For a moment, I truly believe that I am hallucinating because there is no chance that they are here. In a matter of seconds, the belief that I was imagining them dissipates as they wrap their arms around me.

I can feel them.

I can smell them.

They are really here… this is real.

I grip their shirts, lean into the hug, and cry. The shock of them being here is overwhelming, and whatever pain I’m feeling from their hold is nonexistent right now.

“How did you guys know I was here?” I ask once I’ve calmed down.

“It’s all over the news,” Amelia says, releasing her hold of me the same time Vince does. “We were on our way to the church when the hospital called me, saying you were admitted. Vince turned the car around, and we sped here instead.”

“It’s on the news already?” I ask in disbelief.

“Well, not all the details, but that something went down,” Vince says. “What happened?”

I flop back down in the chair with a sigh. Amelia moves the church bag from the chair next to me, setting it on the ground, and takes a seat. Vince stays standing, eyes on the lobby doors, and gestures to a woman walking toward us, her gaze on me.