The Promise

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
My husband made me a promise. This is the account of the day that he made his promise come true.

Submitted: June 09, 2016

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Submitted: June 09, 2016

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The Promise

Till death do us part he promised me.

Alex didn’t usually come home until 4 o’clock give or take a few minutes if he had popped to the shops. He hadn’t that day so I was expecting him any minute. The door bell rang but the dog didn’t bark like she usually did. Nonetheless I stood up out of my chair and walked to the door. Through the mottled glass I could see the yellow-green blur of a policeman’s high-vis jacket. I knew it was him.

Reluctantly I opened the door. He said that he was sorry to inform me that Alex had been in a serious motorcycle accident and that he was in our local hospital. My brain didn’t process what had just happened as I wasn’t expecting it. In the next few seconds my I realised that Alex was hurt. Badly.

The 15 minute long journey to the hospital felt like it took forever and a day. There wasn’t even any traffic. Ironic really. I pulled into the hospital car park and took the last space there. I ran out of the car completely forgetting to pay and display but to be honest that was the least of my worries.

Stumbling into the hospital foyer, I asked the lady at the desk what room Alex was in. Very calmly and politely she said that he was in room 321. Rushing through the maze of white walls, blue uniforms and different wards, I finally found room 321 in the A+E department.

I knocked on the door and a friendly voice invited me in. It wasn’t Alex’s though. The door creaked as I opened it very slowly not wanting to see the state that the man I loved was in. I was looking at the ground as I entered the room but I slowly lifted my eyes only to see his face. It was decorated with burgundy blood and white tubes that trailed from his mouth and nose all the way down his neck. His neck was in a brace that hugged him tightly.

As I walked over to the bed I noticed that his feet were sticking out of the blanket. They were purple and ice cold. I paced my bag on the floor and pulled up a chair as close to the bed as I could get it. With my hand shaking, I delicately picked up his hand and held it in mine. It was cold and limp. There was no life in him. A tear found its way out of my eye and rolled down my cheek.

The doctor that was in the room said that he was in a critical state but he gave us some time alone. I stoked his arm telling him that everything was going to be okay and that he was going to get better. He had one of those heart rate monitor clipped not his finger but his hand was so cold that it wasn’t even registering properly. Gripping his hand a bit tighter, I brought it up to my face and kissed it.

It was almost as if he was waiting for me to do that because in that moment, the monotone never-ending beep of the heart monitor made his promise become a reality.


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