Page 127 of Redeeming the Villain
Something’s changed—something I can’t describe—and as I open my eyes, I realize it’s because I can’t feel him breathing anymore. His eyes are open, but he’s not blinking.
My voice is a ghost of a whisper. “Micah?” I rock him gently. “Micah?”
He doesn’t move.
“Micah?” I shake him harder.
Sirens ring in my ears.
“Micah! Wake up! Wake up, buddy!” I sob. “Please …”
His body is limp in my arms, and his eyes … his eyes are empty. The recognition of that mere thought makes me want to die.
A high-pitched cry slashes through my lungs. Pulling him back against me, I cling to him like my life depends on it.
Someone touches my shoulder, but I don’t react. I just want to stay here with him. I don’t want anyone to touch him or look at him. He’s mine. He’s my little brother.
“Micah …” My voice cracks into a thousand pieces. “Please don’t do this.”
An EMT grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “Let me take a look at him, okay? I need to help.”
No. He’s fine. He’s just fine. He’s just resting right now. That’s all.
“Can you step away, just for a moment, sir?” someone else asks me, but I can’t even respond. “We’re going to move you, okay? We need to evaluate him.”
A thousand hands are on me, pulling me off of Micah as I scream and thrash.
“Stop! Stop! No!”
They pull me further away.
“Stop! He’s fine! He’s okay!”
“They have to check him out,” one of the people holding me back says, but I don’t care.
I need to get to him.
The EMT glances over at me—no, to someone else, but it doesn’t matter. I can read the look in their eyes because I already know the truth. I just don’t want to admit it yet.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no …” I whimper. “No!” I scream at the guy. “You’re wrong! He’s just fine!”
“Take a deep breath for me, son, okay?”
He’s fine. He’s fine.
A gurney suddenly appears, and they load his limp body onto it. I suddenly can’t hide from the truth any longer. They wheel it away as I’m held in place by at least three or—I don’t know—four people.
“P-please,” I sob. “Please.”
Someone’s voice cracks as my back is rubbed. “I’m sorry.”
I lose sight of him as he disappears around the corner of the ambulance. I don’t know where to look, how to breathe. I don’t know how to exist in a world that he’s not in.
A man in a suit stumbles out of an SUV, and it’s like my mind starts replaying the accident from the beginning.
He’s the one who was driving. He’s the one who hit Micah.
Shaking out of their hold on me, I take off running straight toward him.
