Romans 10:13 For, "Whoever will call on the name of the Lord will be saved."
I can't move. The only thing I remember, the first thought I had as I stared up at the brilliant stars above, searing pain shattering my senses. I could hear my husband coming toward me, but I couldn't speak. Couldn't process his words. God, forgive me. Help me. The stars didn't answer, but the darkness folded around me.
"We don't know if she will make it." That's what they told him when we got to the hospital. Morphine for the pain, staples to close my shattered skull over, but there was nothing they could do about the blood seeping into my brain.
They say I woke at intervals over the course of the three days, but I don't remember it. Officers tried to question me, but I had no sense of time or reality. Back to sleep I went.
My first real memory was opening my eyes to his tired, sad face as he sat across from me in a chair, staring down at the phone. I was surprised he was there, but I couldn't remember why. Why wouldn't he be there? We loved each other. My head throbbed painfully.
He reached for my hand and I held on as tightly as I could. Back to sleep I went. Day four. They won't let him see me. I'm not allowed visitors. They think he's bringing me drugs. I laugh. I can barely keep my eyes open and they think he's sneaking me meth? Aren't they doctors? How ridiculous.
They think he pushed me. No. I can't remember, but I know that isn't right. He wouldn't do that. How could they think that? What did happen? I fell out of the car? No. That isn't right either. I need to talk to him.
Six months in a rehabilitation center, speech therapy, physical therapy. That's what they want. Two years before I can return to work? Are they nuts? Who can take two years off work? Now I'm angry. I demand my discharge papers.
I don't remember calling my husband, but I must have. My next memory is our conversation about the "accident". But it was no accident. I had jumped out of a moving vehicle at thirty miles an hour. Dear Lord, how was I even alive?
