Her eyes opened slowly and all she saw was the white of the ceiling. She could hear the beep of the heart monitor that was wired to her and the scurry of people around her. Somebody was saying something but it didn’t make any sense.
“Emma, can you hear me?” said a familiar voice “It’s me, Ben”
Emma tried to move her head but couldn’t. Darkness fell upon her again as she drifted off.
“Why won’t she respond to me? This is the third time now”.
Ben sat back down, taking Emma’s hand in his. His face was angst ridden as he watched his wife, so frail and bruised, fighting for her survival. It had been a beautiful summer’s day and Ben decided he wanted to take her out for lunch. They were driving through familiar country roads, music blaring as they laughed and talked about their plans. Emma burst into song as her favourite Jason Mraz track played which made Ben laugh because she was an awful singer. Not one note in tune, but he didn’t care because he loved that about her. He loved everything about her.
They had only been together six months when Ben proposed. He knew from the day they met he would marry her. He’d never felt like this about anyone before. She was so carefree, laid back and loved him to pieces. His confidence had taken a knock after losing his job just before they met, but when he told her how much he loved to draw pictures, she was soon encouraging him to get back into it and even sell them, and to his surprise, they were doing really well. Two years later he opened his own studio, and began an evening art course for adults and Emma would always come along after work to support him.
“I drew you another picture last night babe: hearts leaping from the moon, just like you described in your dream.”
That was a recurring vision of hers; but she loved the idea of it, mainly because Ben once made up a story about the heart of the moon searching for love and two days later, she dreamt about them leaping with joy from the moon’s centre, heading straight towards her. She knew then they were in love, even though they hadn’t told one another.
“It’s on canvass so we can put it on the wall in the lounge, or maybe above the bed in our room...actually, I think above our bed will be nice: My story, your dream, our love. What do you think?”
For a second he was convinced Emma smiled, but nothing.
“Why did I have to decide to go out?” Ben asked himself angrily. “None of this would have happened if we had just stayed at home”.
The car came out of nowhere and hit them head on throwing them into a double somersault before landing roof down on the ground. Emma was thrown against the passenger window, her body limp and blood everywhere. Ben hit his head on collision but managed to remain conscious. He tried to move but his body was stationary, whether from shock or damage, he didn’t know but all he wanted was for them both to be out of the car and quickly. He screamed at Emma to wake up but she didn’t respond. Another car was driving a little further behind them and saw it all. They called an ambulance and helped get Ben out of the car. Emma wasn’t moving though and they had to wait for the paramedics to arrive before they could do anything. That was eight days ago. The driver of the car that hit them was three times over the limit and died hours after arriving at hospital.
Ben startled upright from his chair. He was unsure how long he had been sleeping for but assumed it must have been a while because a blanket had been put over him. He looked at his watch and saw it was 3.08am and he suddenly felt thirsty. Looking around for a nurse, he got up from his chair and walked over to the table at the end of the bed and poured himself a glass of water but his body suddenly went cold when he realised Emma was no longer wired up to the machine; instead her face was grey and her lips blue and dry. An evil shiver fell down his spine as he stood there motionless.
“Emma!” he screamed, shaking her. “Wake up!”
Confusion fell over him as tears streamed from his eyes. What had happened in the short time he had been asleep and why had he not woken up before now? It didn’t make any sense. Commotion appeared from a nearby room close by to Emma’s. Ben looked over but couldn’t take in what was happening. The room started to spin and he could feel himself getting cold. The noise outside was getting louder, piercing through his body like nails scraping along a blackboard.
Storming out with raged anger, Ben approached the room but stopped short when he saw doctors surrounding a bed, checking the heart rate of a patient and wiring up a defibrillator. He walked over to the bed but froze in horror as he saw a familiar figure lying there underneath bruises and swelling. His black eyes widened and his body began to convulse as the realisation of what was happening dawned on him. Sweat poured from his head and his hands began to shake when he saw the person he was looking at was in fact, himself.
Ben stood in a trance as he watched doctors and nurses trying desperately to save his life.
“NO!” he screamed.
Nobody responded. Ben ran back into his wife’s room and he suddenly remembered everything. He was the one in the coma, not Emma. She died on impact. Everything he was feeling, thinking and hoping was all in his mind. He had been replaying his life over the last 8 days only today, after doctors began to see some improvement in him, Ben was beginning to piece things together, only for his body to go into shock after realising she was dead, causing his own heart to stop.
Tears poured from his eyes as he fell onto Emma’s cold body. He held her tight but felt the resuscitation shocks going through him pushing him back to the ground. He staggered up from the floor making his way back to the bed, screaming again to stop but nobody listened.
Ben looked around and saw the scene in slow motion. He could no longer hear their voices, and could feel something pulling him away. Doctors worked in vain for what felt like a lifetime to save him, each shock jolting his body off of the bed, but without any response.
Realising there was nothing more they could do, they had to stop. Two lives had been taken and for a week, doctors fought to save the third, but they couldn’t. Ben had given up. The thought of life without Emma was too much for him to contend with. He wasn’t strong enough without her. He felt responsible for her death and would never have forgiven himself had he survived. The only thing he could do was let go because at least this way he hoped he would reunite with her again.
A hand reached over and switched off his life machine ending the noise, and finalisng the end of his life. Softly stroking his face, a tear fell onto his cheek as a gentle voice whispered into his ears for the last time:
“Goodnight Ben."
