Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
My father and I share a look, and I know that this conversation is far from over.
I’m about to say something else when I see the doctor coming out. His scrubs are full of blood as he looks down with a defeated expression.
"You need to rein it in," my father says, “I know that look, Quinn. You need to realize both of you are on the same side."
He talks to the nurse at the station, and she points over at us. "Oh my God," my mother says, slipping her hand into mine. Her nervousness is felt all the way to my bones. Her hand trembles in mine as she squeezes it tightly.
"Are you with Jane Doe?" the doctor asks us. I can’t even say anything because my mouth is so dry. I watch him, wondering if he is going to tell us the worst-case news. Will he tell us that the woman I held in my arms died? Just the thought sends my heart into overdrive.
"She’s alive." He cuts right to it. “Barely." My legs shake. “She coded three times." I release my mother’s hand as I put my hand to my stomach. The pressure feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.
"What is wrong with her?" my mother asks.
"What isn’t wrong with her?" He shakes his head. “She had a massive head injury. I’ve never seen anything so bad. I stopped the bleeding there, but that is just the beginning. To be honest, I don’t know how she’s still alive." I open my mouth in shock. “The next forty-eight hours are going to be crucial for her. Even if she survives this, we still don’t know the extent of her brain injuries."
"When can I see her?" I ask, and he looks down.
"It’s supposed to be family only,” he says, but he must see that no matter what he says, I’m not leaving here.
"Considering we are calling her Jane Doe and the fact no one else is here," my father says, “I’m going to go out on a limb and say we’re the only family she has right now."
He nods his head. “Only one of you can go in."
"Thank you,” I say, watching him turn around and walk away.
"Jesus," my mother says, walking to one of the chairs with shaky hands. “Quinn." She looks at me. “This is …" She blinks away tears, putting her hand on the top of her head. Her own blue eyes are becoming a shade darker. "You can’t do this." She looks at me and then at my father. “Cowboy,” she says his nickname softly, and he just looks down.
"Mom," I say, and she holds up her trembling hand.
"You are going to sit by her bedside, and you don’t even know her name. You don’t even know her story,” she says.
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell my mother honestly. “There is just something in me that can’t just leave her here alone.” Even if I tried to explain it, I don’t think I would be able to. How do you explain that something inside me can’t leave her? How do you explain that everything in your body yells at you to stay?
“She might die in there, and God knows how this will affect you.” She uses the back of her hand to dab away her tears. “You always have this need to save things.” She comes to me, putting her hand on my cheek. “Sometimes, you just need to watch instead of jumping all in.”
“If you guys want to help.” I look at her, then at my father. “Find out who she is."
"We’re working on it," my father says. “But there was nothing in that cabin."
"What about the black bag?" I ask him about the bag I had in my hand when I first spotted her under the bed.
"Nothing in there but clothes and a locket," he says. “No wallet, no nothing."
"How can one person be so off the radar?" My mother looks at my father. “There has to be something in the system."
"Did we get her fingerprints?" I ask my father, and he shakes his head.
"There are so many prints in that cabin," he says, and I close my eyes. “It’ll be a while before we get anything concrete.”
"Well, then get me something, and I’ll get them, and we can run them through the system." I point at where the blue doors are.
"What are you talking about?" My mother rises. “This woman is going to be fighting for her life. I will not let you go in there and do that."
"How else are we going to find out?" My father puts his hands on his hips.
"We’ll find out when she wakes up and you ask her," my mother says. “You need to go home and shower." She looks at me, and I shake my head.