Abigail's shattered life finally starts coming back together, just in time for her to realize exactly who her "guardian angel" is.
Angel: Part 6
The conclusion.
For a moment when I look into Chad’s face, the
fragile, disconnected world I’d existed in for ten long months stabilizes.
Until I remember he’s a Guardian Psychiatric
Analyst. An Angel. A Guardian Angel—like Uncle Edgar’s ads tout. The
holographic image of someone’s mind because their body is in a coma, or some
other life-supported state. Because he’s almost dead.
I thought he died. I thought he burned in the plane
with my father. I screamed his name and lost my mind when the voice on the
phone said, “I can’t get to my phone.
Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” My father’s death crippled me.
Chad’s death broke me, shattered me into a million pieces.
The weight crushes my chest, everything collapsing
in on me. He’s close to me and yet never further away. I start clawing at
him—at the hologram of Chad, my hands scraping wildly and distorting the image.
“Abbey … Abbey, I’m sorry.” His voice cackles like a bad cell connection and the image blinks. He
tries reaching out. Then he’s gone.
I moan in utter sadness, expecting the pain to take
over, hoping the darkness will rescue me. It doesn’t. I remain agonizingly
aware of all I’ve lost again.
My mother rushes into the room, looking frantically
around for Chad. She yells for a doctor, expecting me to go to pieces.
Logic starts working its way through my brain. I
grip Mother by the shoulders. She freezes, surprised at my clarity.
“Did you know Chad is alive?”
Mother blinks. I suppose she’s waiting for my words
to melt into incoherent drivel. “No. No, dear. Of course not. But—alive?”
I bite back the howl of pain that accompanies her assumption.
“Yes. If he’s projecting a hologram from Guardian, he’s alive. Where?”
Now Mother’s gulping back sobs. I know I’m acting
unfairly. She held it together for so long—brought me through so much. “Don’t
do this to yourself, Abbey, please!”
“Where, Mother! Where?” I shake her, pleading.
“At the Guardian Hospital, of course. Where else,
Abbey?”
I drop my hands and rush out of the room to the
garage. Minutes later I tear out of the driveway in one of the fast cars lodged
there. The security guard at the hospital yells at me when I park the car in an
ambulance unloading, but I ignore him. I sweep past the reception desk before I
realize I don’t know where to go.
I whirl back around, practically charging the
receptionist. “Where is Chad Rathburn?”
She must recognize me because she jabs at her
computer right away. “I’m sorry, Miss Emsley. No one but immediate family is
allowed in Mr. Rathburn’s room.”
I slam both hands down on the counter. “Tell me what
room before I come across this desk and find it myself.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see the other woman
behind the desk whispering hurriedly into the phone, but the receptionist says,
“3210” and I’m off down the hall before the other one hangs up.
The elevator will only take me up to the 28th
floor because special Guardian patients occupy the higher levels. A security
guard blocks the stairs.
“Do you know who I am?” I challenge.
“I’m sorry, Miss Emsley, I can’t let you in here.”
“Let me in!” I scream, “Just let me in!”
I suppose he figures dealing with Uncle Edgar seems
easier at the moment, so he pushes open the door, and I dash in before he
changes his mind. I’m not even winded after sprinting up four flights of
stairs.
I ignore the shocked nurse when I emerge from the
stairwell. I twirl frantically, trying to figure out what direction to run
before Uncle Edgar shows up to drag me away. I see 3210 just down the hall. I
rush for it, pushing open the door violently.
Skin grafts and thick burn scars cover every inch of
Chad’s body. Cautiously I step closer. I run my hand gently over his ridged arm
and his disfigured face. How did he even survive that inferno?
“Chad,” I whisper mournfully. I kneel next to the
bed, dropping my face into his chest. “Not alive,” I say. “Not really.”
But this could be enough. I could survive the rest
of my life with the Chad hologram—only a flicker of who this man really is, but
enough for me.
I grip Chad’s mutilated arm and choke back a sob.
Can I really live with that choice? Can I face Chad knowing I’m imprisoning
him? Can I sink to Uncle Edgar’s disgusting level, keeping people alive for my
own profit even if I can justify it?
I could. I really could.
“You shouldn’t be here, Abbey. This isn’t good for
you.”
I lift my head, gazing at Uncle Edgar. “You’re a
horrible man.”
Uncle Edgar holds his hands up defensively. “You’re
the only one I’ve ever sent him to. I swear, Abbey.”
“And all the others?”
I look back at Chad’s face. Agony shreds my insides.
I brush my lips across his forehead and reach toward the wall. Uncle Edgar
lurches forward, surprised.
I rip out the plug and match the wail of the heart
monitor with one of my own.
That was definitely a dramatic ending!
ReplyDelete