Chapter 14: Helene

Chapter 14

Helene

I feel my blood rushing through me like a fire. The pain, like being ripped apart from the inside. Is that what happened? Did they tear the child out of me? Or did it tear its own way out? I try to open my eyes. I can't. I can't do it. It is like someone is holding my eyelids, glueing them down. I cannot wake up from the nightmare. I can hear everything. I can feel everything. Every sensation. I can feel cold fingertips trace my arm, searching for a pulse. I hear my baby, my child, screaming out for me. It's alive. My baby is alive and calling for me yet, yet I can't sate it's needs.

Those fingertips, so cold. I want the baby. I want my baby. I have spent weeks thinking it was dead and I am so close but can't touch it.

Am I dying? I can't be dead because I can hear everything. I can't already be dead, can I? I can hear life around me but can't connect. I don't want to die. I don't want to be dead. I just have to open my eyes. Why can I not? The pain is not so bad. I feel somewhat...lighter. Not so weighted by blood. I can feel the blood pouring out of me; it is a weird sensation. My brain feels like it is boiling. Every organ aches and burns.

I hear voices. I can't distinguish them. I can just feel a cold wave come over me. I want to wake up; surely the want to do something is all that is needed. It would seem not.

“We have to move on. There is no other option: we have to find a place to settle down for the night and to get supplies for this little girl.”

Girl. I have a daughter. Yes, please move on. We have to get somewhere safe. The person, whoever they are, speaks sense. The one thing I know is that it is not my husband: my husband would never think of such of thing. He would have us sleep under the stars, I speak as the voice of experience.

The next voice seems more irate but further away from me.

“Where are we supposed to go? There is nowhere. My hopes for the shopping centre were dashed and now, we are so far away from our old base that we'd never make it back on the amount of petrol we have.”

Oui, that is my husband. Ever the optimist. Yes, mon petit pommme de terre, do not worry about getting your wife and children to a safe place. Well, the children at least. The way things go, I may not be a worry soon enough. I feel so cold. The fever seems to have been exchanged for a burning cold sensation.

Time seems to pass so slowly, wherever I am. I want my children. Everything was a blur in that place. I did not see Alfie. I didn't see Danny or Sam. Oh God, did they make it? Of course they did: Lucas would not leave our son in that kind of situation. Sam and Danny are the 'dream team'. The relationship they share is one of almost parental affection. Sam views him as a son, a protégé almost. Danny would not let anything happen to her, as she would if roles were ever reversed. It would crush him if anything happened to her. It would crush her if anything happened to him.

I focus on my eyes, my energy. I just have to push through the darkness. That's all I have to do and I can. I can do. I concentrate my energy into my fingertips. I can feel my fingers move: I flex them and feel my knuckles crack. I can move my fingers which means I can't be dead. It hurts to move them. Every inch of my fingers feel like they are on fire, yet they also feel numb. The cold fingers reach for mine once again.

“Helene, can you feel my hand? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

Yes, yes I can. I focus on my fingers and put all of my strength into squeezing back. Another cold hand reaches over the top of my hand. They're taking my pulse. The hands are small so I am guessing it is Elektra: I don't recognise the voice so it must be her. Also Sam always has warm hands, even in the dead of winter. Where's Sam? She should be here, not this child. Does she even know what she is doing?

“She's responding to me but I don't know if that is a fluke. A reflex or something like that.”

How can you think that was a fluke? Dead people don't have muscle spasms that feel like they are squeezing a hand. Ah merde. This b***h is going to be the death of me. Passing me off as dead. I knew she doesn't know what she is talking about. I feel heat on my eyelids. A stream of light makes the inside of my eyelids appear red in colour.

“Lex, it was not a fluke. Her eyes are moving under her eyelids. Plus there is no reflex that forces the hand to squeeze. Even it was a spasm, there would not be eye movement.”

The boy speaks sense. Lord, what was his name? I forget. I should know. I should. Why can I not remember? Did I hit my head? Yes, I did. I remember that but why?

I feel my eyelids begin to open. It's working. I can do it. The light is overwhelming. I have to close my eye once again. It is too bright, painfully bright.

“Uh oh. Helene, hello. Can you please try to open your eyes again?” It is the boy. I open my eyes marginally and he uses his fingertips to force my eyelids all the way up.

“That is not good,” he says, breathing heavily.

“Why, aren't they supposed to be like that? She has just been in a mini-coma.”

He examines my eyes again.

“Look here,” he says pointing, “if they are supposed to be like that, how come only one of them is fully dilated? One of her pupil has blown and...what does that mean?”

“Brain trauma.”

I did not realise I was in the company of Holmes and Watson. That explains why I can't remember anything. But brain trauma? Where is Sam? She knows what to do, she always has. Where is she when I need her? She has to be around so why has she left me to the children?

“What...what does that mean? Brain trauma? What?” Lucas whines, coming towards me.

“Alright, trust us on this. If her pupil has blown, it means that there has been extreme trauma to the head. This must have happened when she fell off of the table. Anyway, it's likely that there is some form of haemorrhaging in the skull which we need to relieve-”

“How can you do that?” Lucas interrupts.
“If you let me finish, we need to allow the bleed to...bleed. We need to remove part of the skull in order to try and relieve. It's your choice whether Jason and I attempt it but know, if we don't do this, she will die. So, what is your answer? We have to act fast.”

Remove part of my skull? I want Sam. I want Sam. I want Sam. I do not trust this one bit. If they do that, they will kill me. I will die of blood loss or infection. What are they doing? I don't want this. I groan, trying to move my numb limbs. I cannot feel them.

“Do I have a choice?” Lucas mutters. I feel him place a clammy hand on my head. Of course you do. If you let them do this, they will murder me. If he lets this happen, I will not even have the privilege of blaming him for allowing it to happen.

“As Lex said, yes you do. You either choose to save her or you let her die. We can't guarantee success but would you not want your wife to have a chance.”

“I swear, we will do everything we know how to do. I was a medical protégée back in the day. I have seen this procedure once before and I think I can replicate it. It will be more difficult considering the lack of drugs and manual ventilators but it can be done. She just has to stay out,” Elektra interjects.

The hand strokes sweat-coated strands of hair away from my eyes. His lips touch my forehead.

“Do what you have to do. I can't lose her, do whatever it takes.”

I will die.

I am going to die.