Page 4 of Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

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“It’s all right. I can imagine this is stressful and I’m not helping. Not to mention, mood changes and fogginess are expected with the amount of morphine they gave you to combat the pain.” His eyes move from my face to the lower half of my body.

I tense.

He releases a shaky breath. “I want you to know that the accident wasn’t your fault. There was absolutely nothing you could have done to change what happened today. I’m very sorry to tell you that we could not save the bones below your right knee. They shattered on impact, along with the cartilage, to the point that there was nothing left for us to work with in the operating room. We were able to conduct the emergency amputation to ensure the rest of your leg could be saved...”

Everything around me stops. The whooshing of the machines. My family’s cries as they break down in front of me. The whole damn world fades to a gray so dark, it borders on black. One word hits me like a battering ram to my skull.

Amputation.

Amputation.

Amputation?

I clutch onto the sheet covering the lower half of my body. My stomach twists at the cry my mom lets out as she turns toward my dad.

I consider telling my family that the doctor must be wrong. He has to be wrong. But something stops me as I lift the sheet with shaky fingers.

It takes one second for my world to crumble around me. One second to realize my life has ended before it ever truly began. One second to wish I could take it all back.

I stare down at my body. My right leg is bandaged and wrong. So fucking wrong I can barely look at it, with acid crawling up my throat. I gag and look away. Someone places a plastic container on my chest as bile escapes my mouth.

I’ve never experienced pain like this before. The emotional kind that borderlines on physical, as if someone set off a bomb inside of my chest.

I’m not sure who shoves the sheet over my body, but I’m grateful for it. I shut my eyes and tell myself how none of this is real. Except my mind has other plans, not allowing me to think past anything but my leg.

Everything below my right knee is missing. The foot I use to press against the pedal. The calf muscles I work on daily in the gym to make me stronger. The very part of me I depend on during every race is gone, like it never existed in the first place.

Tears escape my eyes. I hate the feel of them sliding down my cheeks. I’m quick to brush them away, not wanting anyone to see me break down. Everything remains eerily silent as my world is destroyed around me. A hollow space takes up the spot in my chest where my heart once belonged, matching my missing appendage.

The doctor’s voice breaks the quiet. “I’m very sorry, Santiago. I’m hopeful that we can help you have a speedy recovery. With our patients, it’s normal to feel overwhelmed from the shock—”

“Shock? You know what’s shocking? Finding out my sister was dating the one man I didn’t want in her life. Or maybe learning I would sign with the best F1 team after only a couple years of racing. This? This is fucking catastrophic,” I hiss. “So don’t pretend it’s anything but a death sentence.” I stare at the doctor with every amount of hate I can muster. Hate feels better than the numbness seeping into my blood, erasing everything I once was. Hate is something I can hold on to. Hate is something I can remember when all else fails me.

“Santiago.” My dad speaks in a meek voice, lacking his usual assuredness.

I can’t find it in me to care and apologize. I can’t find it in me to do anything.

“I want everyone out,” I say it low, yet the sentence carries a sense of finality.

Mami’s cries become louder. Papi tugs her into his chest, muffling her sobs.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.” Maya’s small hand clutches onto my shoulder.

Noah looms behind her like the fucking shadow he is. I can’t look him in the eyes. Acknowledging his presence reminds me of everything I’ve lost. My whole life’s work down the drain in the matter of twenty-four hours.

“It’s all gone. One wrong move and my entire life is done. One stupid fucking move of driving on the wrong part of the pavement.” I hide my face behind my trembling hands. I don’t want anyone to see my pain or my tears because it feels like another thing stolen from me. My pride. My manhood. My dignity. All of it robbed after one mistake. One devastating, career-ending mistake.

Fuck that.

Life-ending. One life-ending mistake.

“Your life isn’t over. We’re going to fix this,” Maya says loudly over my heavy breathing.

Noah places his palm on top of hers, giving my shoulder a tighter squeeze. “Your life isn’t over because I won’t let you give up on yourself. This isn’t the end.”

I refuse to look up at him. My family ignores my protests and stands by me as I lose my shit in silence, giving in to the emotional and physical pain.