Three days later, I was still in Richard's hospital room. I slept there; I ate there. Martin would come pick me up in the mornings to go have a bath and change of clothes and then bring me right back.
I missed his smile, his jokes, his teasing, and his arrogant attitude. I missed it all. I sat beside him reading a book.What else could I do? All I have been doing was waiting. I read aloud; maybe he would hear me and not feel alone.
But suddenly, the monitor gave a loud, shrill sound and continued in a flatline tone. My heart gave up. I screamed.
"Someone help! Richard! No! No! No! Don't do this to me!"
The door burst open with a team of doctors and nurses. A nurse came over to me to move me out of the way. "Step outside, please, ma'am."
"Don't you dare touch me!" I pushed her away and turned to my husband. I cried or wailed or screamed; I couldn't even tell. I just know that my heart was hurting. I felt a pang of pain in my belly, but that didn't stop me.
