Playing Heart Games

Game Over 71: Hope

VIOLET

I didn't think I could cry anymore. But when they finally let me sit in Axel's hospital room, I realised I was wrong.

Watching paramedics work over his limp body was horrifying.

Watching them wheel him into the surgery theatre was horrifying.

But sitting here, looking at him in this hospital room...

This was worse.

Axel looked so pale, his skin grey instead of tan. They'd put an oxygen mask on him, and bandaged his upper body.

He looked like a corpse.

He had a punctured lung, damage from smoke inhalation, a concussion, cracked ribs, hairline fractures in his bones...it was a miracle he'd been able to move before he lost consciousness.

His heart had stopped beating before the ambulance arrived. I'd performed CPR is a blur of unconscious movements, barely aware of what I was doing. Just knowing I couldn't let him die. His heart had started beating again when the paramedics arrived.

But he hadn't woken up once.

I knew what that meant—even if the doctor's explanation had just been white noise to me.

He could have suffered brain damage. He might never wake up.

Another stream of tears slid down my face. My throat was so raw that it hurt to breathe. I squeezed his hand. "Please don't leave me."

He didn't move. The only sound was the rasp of his breath, the pulsing of the heart monitor.

I leaned my face against his forearm. He couldn't die. He just couldn't.

The door opened behind me.

Mom raced in, followed by Ken and Alissa.

I stood.

She crushed me into a hug. "Honey—" She pulled back, her face tear stained as she looked me over. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Are you—"

"I'm fine," I said. I glanced at Axel, and the tears were back. "But Axel..."

The door opened and Axel's family burst inside.

Isabel swayed when she saw him. Vincent caught her before she could fall.

She rushed to Axel's bedside, tears sliding down her face. "Baby," she croaked.

Vincent walked towards the bed, slowly. He stopped at its foot, staring at Axel. He paled.

He nudged him. "Son?"

When nothing happened, I knew I was going to start crying again.

Asher stood in the doorway, his skin paper-white, his eyes too wide. He stepped back.

If Axel was awake, the first thing he would do was make sure Asher was okay.

That was probably what I should do—for Axel. But I couldn't help being angry. Being angry that Axel always prioritised Asher over himself. That Axel always prioritised everyone over himself.

That if Axel wasn't like that, he wouldn't have entered a burning building in the first place.

Axel would want you to do something.

I crossed the room, catching Asher's wrist. There was no resistance as I pulled him to Axel's bedside.

"Axel would want you here," I muttered.

I released him, slipping my hand back into Axel's.

Please wake up.

Alissa wrapped her arm around me. I leaned into her.

Vincent snapped out of his daze. He glared at me. "What happened here?" he demanded.

Ken bristled. "Watch your tone."

"She's the only one here," he snapped. "And clearly you were involved in whatever caused this." He gestured at Axel, his expression full of disgust.

"Do not talk to my daughter that way," mom growled.

"She needs to answer for—"

"You need to stop talking," Alissa bit out, glaring at him.

"It was one of Axel's idiotic troublemaking schemes, wasn't it?" Vincent continued. "What did he do this time? Tell me—"

I snapped. "For f**k's sake, shut up already."

Everyone turned to stare at me. Mom's eyes were wide. "Sweetie?"

"Axel is in a coma because he was brave enough to go into a burning house to rescue Brielle, the evil b**tch who's been blackmailing him for weeks," I snarled. "So for once in your life, could you stop treating him like s**t?"

Vincent stared at me. The room was silent.

Isabel looked between the both of us. She rubbed away her tears. "Could you...could you tell us what happened?" she whispered.

I stared at Axel's hand. So pale. Too pale. "There was a fire at Axel's painting house," I said.

I didn't know how it had started, but Brielle had been there. I didn't want to think about the fact that she might have started it on purpose. That this was her fault. Because if I did—

I would lose it.

Isabel's brows furrowed. "His painting house?" she echoed.

Asher frowned. "Is that where he keeps his paintings?"

"Axel doesn't paint," Vincent scoffed.

I glared at him, then looked away, forcing myself to breathe. I needed to calm down. It was so easy to be angry at him. It was so easy to focus on anger instead of pain. It was just...none of this was fair. And I hated it. I hated how self-sacrificial Axel was. I hated how Vincent spoke about him. I hated that his family hadn't even known about the painting house. I hated all of it.

"Brielle got trapped inside and Axel went in to help her. He got her out but he—" A lump swelled in my throat, and a mixture of rage and agony made it impossible to speak.

I'd heard her recounting the story to one of the paramedics. She'd been in shock, babbling. I didn't even know how her words had registered in my mind—all I'd been able to see was Axel.

When he didn't follow her, she'd known he was trapped. But she hadn't done anything.

"What were you doing there?" Vincent asked.

"She was saving my life."

Everyone froze.

His voice was a rasp, "So, please stop interrogating my girlfriend."

My heart stopped beating.

Axel's eyes slid open, gaze meeting mine. His smile was tired. "Your curls are back."