FicWad

It was one of those feelings you think about and wish you’ll never feel, that icy cold knot in your throat.
But it was real.
And scary.
And it was his girl.
His Vicki. His Victoria. His wife. His woman.
It wasn’t someone else.
God.
It was her.
He felt his broken shoulder scream and pound, the pain crawl across his body in dense, black waves.
But he wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of Becca.
“Hey…”
She smelled of smoke, and of blood, and of fresh air.
“I brought you a sandwich.”
He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t care for food. He had no will. No energy.
“Please, Tomo? You haven’t eaten in a day…”
The smell of tuna made his stomach retch.
“How is she?”
“Fine. Stable. She’s asleep. She’s not in pain. She’s not feeling a thing, Tomo. I swear.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“I know.”
The ER was bustling with energy. It was a screaming, terrifying never-ending stream of pain. Of other’s happiness. And that was all his exhausted mind could see. Pain. His. Hers.
Hers.
Choke. Freeze. No. Again. Rewind. Go back. Before. Before the red light. Before. Before you crossed the intersection without looking. The two kids driving the Volvo had died. Nausea. God. YOU MONSTER.
I want to die.
His mind informed him that someone else was next to him, but he didn’t - couldn’t - care.
“I came as soon as I heard… Oh God…God…God…are you OK?
Rebecca looked up as Jared crouched in front of her and hugged her.
Tight.
She squealed, because it hurt. Because she didn’t want him to hug her. She didn’t want his arms around her. She didn’t want him. She didn’t.
He wanted her.
“She’s pregnant.”
Tomo’s voice. Low, barely a whisper. Desperate. Distant.
Jared’s attention shifted and she sighed with relief as his arms let go of her. And then her black eyes met icy-cold green.
Emma. And her stomach retched and exploded into nausea as she heard Tomo’s screams explode and bounce off the walls, as he buried his head into Jared’s chest, shivering, unable to breathe, to function, to live.
Jesus. Jesus.
She got up, feeling sick down to the bone. Tomo’s voice chased her as she escaped into the bathroom and vomited into the sink.
“Keep your hands off of him, bitch.”
Her mind was working slowly. It swirled and somersaulted until it made the connection and it stammered and then it halted all of a sudden and she flipped around.
“Emma?”
“Keep. Your. Hands. Off. Of. Him.”
She wiped her mouth with a paper towelette. And panic, once again, grasped her throat, dragged her down. God, her mind, always playing trick.
“I’m not interested in him. I never was.”
The other girl glared at her.
“Did you fuck?”
“What? God…Emma…no. No! Nothing happened!”
“You fucked.”
“We didn’t. Emma.”
And then the Emma had rushed up to her, tears glistering in her eyes.
“You fucked. YOU FUCKED.”
And then she had pressed her lips against Rebecca’s, as hot tears quietly rolled down her cheeks.