What’s going on?

Other than the chair, the hospital bed and the surgical cart, there was no other furniture in the room.

Something wasn’t right. I didn’t remember Hunter’s hospital room being nearly this large. And why were there surgical instruments out? Hunter wasn’t going into surgery.

I stood up from the chair and walked over to the bed. He was lying on his side, his back turned to me, his torso rising and falling slowly. Probably asleep.

Then I looked down to where his legs were. Blood seeped through the sheets, spreading rapidly until it soaked through the entire bottom of the bed. In a panic, I reached for the sheets and pulled them off. His legs were gone. Two bloody stumps were all that remained.

I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.

Hunter was stirring. He turned around slowly, but his face looked different. Icy chills shot through my veins from head to toe.

That’s not Hunter.

Marco’s face stared at me, his eyes wide and crazed. I stumbled backward and fell.

Then his mouth opened to speak.

“I hope you’re recovering well.”

My eyes sprang open. I sucked in lungfuls of air, trying to steady my breathing. My heart pounded against my ribcage and a slick layer of sweat covered my forehead.

I was still in a hospital room, but this one was normal sized and dimly lit. Hunter lay a few feet away from me, sleeping soundly. His eyes were closed and peaceful. This was definitely Hunter. His legs were fully intact, and one foot stuck out from under the sheet. My face was hot and I felt ashamed of myself. Why did I even need to check? I was like a kid scared of the dark.

Tears blurred my eyes and I wiped them away. The collar of my shirt was soaked with sweat, and my skin felt clammy.

I hope you’re recovering well.

I shivered. The hospital’s filtered air was too cold. It was okay. Hunter was going to be okay. We would be okay. I repeated it to myself like a mantra.

Except that he couldn’t walk.

Clenching my jaw, I tried to prevent my lips from trembling even though I knew no one was watching me. Hunter might wake up at any second, and I didn’t want him to see me crying. Wasn’t I the one who wanted to be by his side to help him through this? Somehow I doubted that it would help him if he saw me in the middle of a panic attack.

It had already been a few days since Hunter had been admitted to the hospital. A number of other doctors had come and gone. They seemed to confirm what Dr. Gallagher had said about Hunter’s legs. He might be able to walk again, but only after extensive physical therapy. In any case, there was no guarantee.

The reality of the situation was starting to sink in for me, and the nightmares came along for the ride. It seemed like every time I closed my eyes, some horrific vision greeted me, usually involving Marco in some way. The change in Hunter’s condition seemed to have intensified my trauma over what happened to my parents at the worst possible moment. I knew I needed to be there for Hunter, but the nightmares were making it hard.

Other than his legs, Hunter was recovering well from the flare-up. They were trying to switch him to a different treatment. He’d still have to do injections, but it was a different drug. The good news was that despite the scary flare-up, the doctors said Hunter’s disease was not progressing as aggressively as they had feared.

All in all, the news wasn’t terrible. But it still didn’t help me shake the horrible feeling at the bottom of my gut. I had promised Hunter that I would be there for him, but as the days wore on, and the nightmares ate at me, the more I wondered if I would be able to live up to that promise.

My fingers dug into the arms of the chair I was sitting in, making it a little slippery. Hunter’s chest rose and fell peacefully.

His attitude seemed pretty good the past few days, cheerful even. When the doctors had offered him a reference to counseling services, he had insisted that he was okay with his situation and just wanted to get better. I didn’t know if he was just pretending to be cheerful, or if he was just in denial about the seriousness of the situation. If he really was in denial, I was terrified of what might happen when he finally realized that even in the best case scenario, he wouldn’t be able to walk for several months.

Footsteps interrupted my thoughts and a nurse came into the room. Hunter stirred at the noise and opened his eyes sleepily, rubbing them and stretching his arms out. The nurse looked at me curiously, before turning to Hunter.

“Good to see you’re resting, I’ve got the discharge papers here and the wheelchair is right outside in the hallway. You can sign the paperwork, and whenever you’re ready you can head out on your way.”

Hunter pushed himself upright in the bed, a big sleepy grin stretching across his face. “Sweet, let’s get going. Snorrie, you ready?”

I nodded and but I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. We had been looking forward to Hunter being discharged today, but right now, I needed some time to compose myself.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “Just give me a second, I’m going to clean up a bit.”

The nurse handed the clipboard to Hunter, while I walked out of the room. She didn’t take her eyes off of me. Did I really look that bad?

In the hallway, I walked by the wheelchair that was meant for Hunter. The leather padding was old and cracked, but the chrome frame and plastic handles still gleamed like new. My eyes stung at the thought of Hunter in that chair. He was cheerful now, but would he still feel the same when he left the hospital?

I clenched my hands until I felt nail marks in my palms. Then I headed down the hall to the restrooms.

When I got to the ladies room and looked in the mirror, I could hardly recognize myself. My face was sunken and gray, my eyes bloodshot. How were we going to make this work? How could I possibly be strong enough for him when I was like this?

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I bit them back.

You need to be strong for Hunter. You’re his anchor now.

The faucet squeaked when I turned it on and I splashed cold water on my face. He needed me. I couldn’t let him down. And that was that.

A little less than an hour later, Hunter had finished all the paperwork and we went out the building’s revolving door. He was still in a good mood and insisted on wheeling himself rather than letting me push him. I kept a fake smile on my face and let him do it, he seemed to have it under control.

We stopped at the car, and I opened the passenger side door for him.

“Thanks,” he said. He flashed me a warm smile after hoisting himself into the front seat.

I folded up his wheelchair to put it in the back. “No problemo,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. Even though I had to fake my cheerful tone, it did make me feel a little less depressed.

Once we were strapped in, we headed onto the freeway. We had the window down and the weather was starting to get a lot warmer. The breeze was making me feel better and I guess Hunter’s positive mood was rubbing off on me too. Maybe it also helped that my nightmare about Marco was fading away.

“You know, I was thinking,” Hunter said, turning to me.

“Uh-oh,” I managed to tease in a playful tone.

He laughed before continuing, “I think it’s time for me to get a job.”

“A job? Now?”

“I dunno, I guess it would be nice to have something to do outside the house. The dining room just needs a layer of paint and then it’s done.”