Chapter 167: Not Dead
How long was I out, a hundred years or something? Brad looked like he aged a lot .
My whole body was screaming in pain. I took a deep breath, trying to play it cool for Brad. "I'm good, don't worry. It doesn't hurt."
Brad's eyes got all watery. He grabbed my good hand and pressed his face into my palm, not saying a word.
Next thing I knew, warm tears were soaking my hand.
Brad had never been like this before.
My palm felt hot and wet.
"Where's Daniel? How's he doing?" I asked, my voice shaky.
Brad choked up, lifted his head, and looked at me with those pained eyes, tears still hanging there.
I couldn't believe it. I tried to sit up, and the pain hit me like a truck, making everything crystal clear and terrifying.
It felt like ice was crawling up my spine.
I kept telling myself not to freak out. Daniel was fine. He had to be!
But after that crash, how could I not be scared?
If he was gone because of me, Hugh and Emma would lose a son, and Brad would lose a brother. What would I do?
I'd owe him forever, a debt I could never repay.
No, Daniel, you had to be okay.
I had never been this scared in my life.
I was terrified that Daniel was really gone. I'd owe him forever and never get the chance to make it right.
Guilt would eat me alive.
"Brad, tell me, how's Daniel? Is he dead? Brad, is he dead? Brad, tell me."
I grabbed Brad's hand and shook it like crazy. The pain from my wound was unbearable, but I didn't care. I kept shaking, desperate for an answer, hoping the physical pain would drown out my inner panic.
I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry.
My panic kept growing, my hands felt like ice.
"Jane, calm down. You're hurt. Jane, Jane." Brad tried to avoid my wounds and comfort me.
But I was losing it. I couldn't hear anything. The only thing in my head was, how was Daniel? Was he still alive?
He was only twenty-three. He shouldn't have gone so soon. Saving me wasn't worth it, not worth it!
If the price of my survival was Daniel's death, I'd rather be the one who died.
Finally, the grief and fear in my heart made me cry!
Tears streamed down, but they did nothing to ease my pain.
I'd rather die than have him lose his life for saving me.
I didn't want to owe him, especially not a debt I could never repay.
"Brad, just tell me. If you don't, I'll find out myself."
I realized I was losing it, needing to vent. My need to know how Daniel was doing was so urgent, I thought I was going crazy.
I threw off the blanket, enduring the pain, and frantically tried to get out of bed to find the answer myself.
The intense pain from my wound made me break out in a cold sweat.
Brad held me tightly in his arms, so tight.
"Jane, be good. Don't move. Your wound is serious."
He said, "I'll tell you, Daniel's not dead. He's just not awake yet. He's in the ICU, but he's alive."
He kept blaming himself, saying he shouldn't have gotten sick, shouldn't have let me go out to buy medicine. He said it was all his fault, that he was the one who caused Daniel's injury, and it had nothing to do with me.
He held me, his body shaking, his eyes red.
Brad was just sick. Everyone gets sick. He hadn't done anything wrong, yet he kept saying it was all his fault.
Daniel wasn't dead, but he wasn't awake either. No one knew when he'd wake up or what he'd be like when he did.
The waiting was pure torture.
Not knowing the outcome felt like a skydiver unable to open their parachute mid-air, filled with fear and despair.
Brad and I held each other, crying uncontrollably, until the sky turned gloomy.
Daniel wasn't dead, and my heart felt a bit more at ease. I prayed he'd come out of the ICU soon and recover quickly.
This was my hope, my salvation.
The doctor's arrival ended our crying.
He scolded Brad for letting me act recklessly. He said my injuries were severe, and if I didn't take them seriously, I might have lasting issues.
Brad kept apologizing, promising to cooperate with the doctor's treatment, to take good care of me, and not let me have any lasting issues.
The wound hurt a lot, but I was also grateful because it was my left hand that was injured. My right hand was still fine, and I could still do what I loved.
Ronan and Helen came. One wiped my face, and the other massaged my cold feet. Helen's eyes were red and swollen from crying, and Ronan looked worried, his eyes fixed on my wound with a complex expression.
"Hugh and Emma are here too, with Daniel," Ronan said, his eyes red, his brow furrowing. "The doctor said Daniel's injuries are severe and he might have lasting effects."
I had thought of that too, but no matter what, he was still alive, and that was enough.
Helen said Emma had come to see me, but I was asleep, so she went back to stay with Daniel.
I asked how Daniel was, but no one knew. The ICU didn't allow casual visits. They had only looked through a small window and saw him lying there with several tubes in him, motionless.
From the increasingly furrowed brows of Brad, I could tell Daniel's condition was not optimistic.
Several times, I wanted to get out of bed to see him. He had saved my life, and I felt I should go, both emotionally and logically.
But I never managed to go.
When I mentioned this, Helen seemed a bit resistant but said nothing. Ronan, however, was very supportive.
He said no matter how overboard Daniel and Emma had been before, if it weren't for Daniel this time, I might not have survived. People should be grateful. Daniel was a benefactor to me, and as the person who was saved, I should visit him.
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