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"But I wouldn’t be completely honest if I didn’t tell you there could be aftereffects. She spent a long time unconscious."
"What kind of aftereffects?"
"Mostly orthopedic, from muscular disuse. Memory loss is also possible. It all depends on how much the brain was affected. The truth is, when it comes to comas, we have more questions than answers. But that’s not the only reason I called you here. Yesterday, Brooklyn sat up in bed on her own."
"What? Is that possible?"
"Yes, it’s possible. I’ve had several patients exhibit similar behavior. She also squeezed my fingers when I—" I cough, unsure how to continue. "...when I . . . held her hand to check her pulse."
I’m almost certain she’s hiding a smile, but I pretend not to notice.
"This means, based on my experience," I continue, "that she could wake up at any moment."
"You know I’m getting married the day after tomorrow and traveling to my fiancé’s island in Greece for our honeymoon, but I need your word that the moment she wakes up, you’ll let meknow immediately. I’ve been praying for this since she was hurt, doctor."
"You’ll be the first person I call, Madison."
Brooklyn
CHAPTER FOUR
One Month Later
Silas.Soraya.
My children.
My family. My whole world.
My babies and my sister, Madison. Eleanor.
I want to wake up for them.
But the exhaustion keeps me trapped in this cloud of sleep. This endless dream.
I know Moses is gone. I remember the last time he looked at me before I passed out. I could see life leaving him.
I take a deep breath, and the same nauseating smell hits me. I think I’m in a hospital. The air is heavy with the scent of ether.
At first, it was the nightmare that wouldn’t let me wake up. The scene from that night playing over and over, like a kaleidoscope I couldn’t escape.
I didn’t hear voices then. Only saw the images of the attack replaying in an endless loop in my mind.
The fear I felt when I saw those men in our bedroom in the middle of the night.
The tightness in my chest as I tried to calculate whether I could reach my babies in time.
Going against everything we’re taught to do in situations like that—to never fight back—I stood up in seconds.
So did the father of my children.
Maybe he anticipated what was going to happen, because he got out of bed with the gun already in his hand—the one he kept in the nightstand, the same gun we’d argued about so many times. But in that moment, I felt grateful for it.
At first, it was just the three of us in the bedroom, and to my utter terror, Moses shot the man in the head without saying a word.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow in the doorway. When I looked, there were two more intruders there, and I froze.
The men weren’t pointing their weapons at Moses—they were pointing them at me. Even in my panic, I found it strange. I was unarmed, and they should have been more worried about him.