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As the news was delivered from the hospital of her fiancé’s car crash and severe injuries, Margot Verger felt herself breaking. She managed to keep it together, requesting Alana’s room number, before thanking the caller and hanging up. It was then that she crumpled to the floor, alternating between crying and screaming.
Her Alana was in a coma. Because of her. If she had been more careful and had locked the door, Alana would not have found out and left. If only Alana hadn’t gotten into the car. If only she hadn’t been speeding. But Margot shook her head; it wasn’t Alana’s fault. The blame was entirely on her shoulders alone.
Margot picked herself up shakily, noticing blood seeping through her bandages, but couldn’t care less. She almost ran to her car, which Alana had affectionately named “Christine”, in a panic, desperate to make it to Alana’s side. She fumbled with the keys and dropped them a few times, before unlocking the car, and venting her frustration on the steering wheel. She tried composing herself. It would do neither of them any good if Margot were crash her car as well. Then they’d be in hospital beds, side by side, slowly dying together.
Margot idly noticed that she was getting stuck in her head at what happened to be a most inappropriate time. She gritted her teeth, almost breaking speed limits, as she drove, almost jumping in her seat, wanting more than anything to be by her princess’s side. She made it to the hospital in record time, forgetting to take her seatbelt off and slamming back into her seat. She let out a furious cry. The world seemed to be enjoying tormenting them today.
She almost ripped her seatbelt off in her rage and sadness, locking the car and almost sprinting into the hospital.
She located the reception desk and cried, “I’m Margot Verger, here to see my fiancé, Alana Bloom!” The nurse at reception calmly gave her directions to the room: 217.
Margot thanked her, and tried not to trip while running. People did that when they were panicked or being chased, Margot knew. She made it to Alana’s room, after fidgeting in the elevator for what felt like hours. She made it to Alana’s floor and looked around for Room 217. She found it and walked in cautiously. She didn’t know what Alana was going to look like, and if she was being truthful, she didn’t really want to find out.
Alana was lying unconscious on a hospital bed, draped in a hospital gown. Her head had multiple stitches sown into it, and when Margot moved the hospital gown, she saw that there were even bigger stitches around her stomach. Margot gasped and started crying. She was so worried for Alana. She wished it had been her in the car when it crashed. Alana’s breathing soft, almost non-existent, but the heart rate monitor showed that she was keeping steady.
A woman came up to her, “Mrs Verger-Bloom? I’m Nurse Wilkes. Your wife sustained pretty heavy injuries in the crash and we almost lost her a couple of times in surgery, but she should pull through fine, if they aren’t any complications. Would you like anything? A glass of water?” Margot declined her offer with a hand wave without bothering to correct her on the erroneous name, less focused on the new arrival than she was on Alana.
The nurse nodded sympathetically, “I’ll leave you with your wife, for a bit.” Margot thanked her and sat down next to Alana’s still form, on the bed beside her. She squeezed Alana’s hand and spoke to her, “Oh darling. My princess. My sweet, darling princess.” She struggled to get out her next words, “I w-wish you’d n-never seen me l-like that today. N-none of this would… would have happened if I… if I hadn’t been more c-careful. I l-love…”
At this point, Margot broke down completely, crying over Alana, hugging her body gently, not wanting to put her through any more pain and suffering. Eventually, Margot’s grief wore her down, and she fell asleep for the second time that day, draped over Alana’s fragile body.
Margot only left Alana’s bedside several hours later, when visiting hours were over. She had half a mind to throw a tantrum and fight to stay, but she knew it wouldn’t get her very far. Alana probably wouldn’t want her to do that, either. Thinking of Alana was so painful, it physically hurt her. She felt like her soul and her heart were being ripped apart. She made it to the car, before breaking down again, as if all the tears in the world were being pumped through her. She gazed at her engagement ring, which symbolised Alana’s promise of marriage to her. She would do anything to keep Alana alive and healthy.
But she knew she could not do much, as things stood, so she settled for imagining a life where Alana had never found out, a life where they were happily married, with a Verger baby from Alana and a litter of puppies, presumably from Applesauce, the naughty girl.
Margot laughed weakly at the vision, missing Alana and needing reassurance. So she drove home slowly, her crying resuming at random intervals, forcing her to park, until she got to her mansion, which seemed empty without Alana.
Applesauce came running to greet her, Margot having forgotten to lock the front door in her haste. She bent down to greet Applesauce, who enthusiastically jumped and licked on her. After she managed to get both of them in the house, Applesauce started crying. Margot could empathise with Applesauce. Their Alana was not here and that saddened them both greatly.
Margot picked Applesauce up and carried her to the bedroom with her, intending on falling asleep on her furry body. Applesauce whined to be let down, eventually, which Margot complied to. Her movements felt almost mechanical, as if she was just going through a set of pre-programmed motions.
She and Applesauce lay down on the bed, Applesauce providing a warm, furry pillow, as both girls cried themselves to sleep, somewhat reassured that they had each other to love, whilst Alana slept on, safe and peacefully. They would all be fine, eventually.
Margot would take each day as it came, more and more grateful that Alana was still alive and that she might yet live to see another day.