CHAPTER 143

My anger didn’t abate. It grew.

For six days, it simmered and twisted in my gut. Six days as I waited by my husband’s bed for him to wake up. To open his dark brown eyes and look at me. Smile. Frown. Groan. Anything.

The medical staff told me to be patient. To remain positive. Both emotions were slowly draining from me. For six days, he remained trapped in a world beyond me. Where I couldn’t reach him. His chest fell and rose with his breathing. The full oxygen mask had been replaced by cannulas, his breathing tube gone. Thick stubble grew on his face, hiding some of the cuts. His bruises were changing, fading from black and blue to yellow and purple. His expression was peaceful, his body unmoving and unresponsive. When we were alone, I wept, begging and pleading with him to wake up. When other people were around, I remained calm, locking down my emotions, putting on a strong, brave, positive face, saying he would wake soon. Be with us.

Still, he slept.

Inside, I despaired.

And b