/Samantha/
He mumbled something weakly as he pulled the mask off of his face and said, "Get out, Samantha."
I mumbled, "I love you, Henry," while pleading with my eyes that he hear me. I was never going to be able to walk away from him. He was the most important thing in my life; why was he unable to see that? There was no way that I would ever leave him for another person in a couple of years, and there was absolutely no chance that it would ever happen. It broke my heart that he would distrust me in such a way since he ought to know me better than that and I loved him with all of my heart.
The words "You don't love me enough for this" came out of his mouth frantically as he shook his head. He shifted his attention to the nurse who was attempting to reapply the mask on his face and said, "Make her leave." Get security, and get her out of here as soon as possible. He said, "I don't want her here!", which caused her to shudder slightly as a result of the fury that was in his voice.
She then turned to me and looked at me in a contrite manner before saying, "Please leave. Because of your presence, he is unable to relax, which is counterproductive. Just get out of here, and I'll see you in a couple of hours. She rested her hand on my arm and indicated that we should head out the door.
"I don't want her to come back within the next few hours! Just tell her to get the heck out of here!" Henry wailed and gasped for air as he tried to lift himself up in the bed, but it was clear that he was too weak to do so because he immediately collapsed back down again, hissing in pain. Henry shouted out.
I stared at the nurse, then at Henry, and then back at the nurse again. Because I was doing that to him and making him feel that way, I had no choice but to leave. I was making him worse and making him sick, and the doctor had told him that he needed to relax in order to get well.
"I'll go. "Look after him," I muttered under my breath as I turned and bolted out of the room as quickly as my limbs would allow me to go.
* * *
Viewpoint of Henry
Before she turned and raced out of the door, I watched as her heart broke before my eyes. I clamped my teeth together tightly so that I wouldn't have to beg her to come back.
I was having trouble breathing because the ache in my chest was one hundred times more excruciating than any physical anguish I had ever felt in my life. I had just lost the one thing that I wanted out of life, the one thing that mattered to me, hell, she was the one thing that mattered to me in life. I'd just lost the one thing that I needed out of life. Not only had I misplaced her, but I had also actively driven her away from me.
Because I forced her to leave when she didn't want to, it hurt considerably more when she did. The idea that I was causing her pain by letting her go free was the most upsetting aspect. If I could take the pain of her heartbreak as well as my own, I most certainly would. I would do anything for that girl, including giving up my life, and I know that I always will. If it meant making her happy, I would do anything, even if it meant destroying myself in the process.
She would eventually move on and find someone else, and that person would give her everything I could no longer provide for her. Even though the thought was excruciatingly painful, I wouldn't have had it any other way. Samantha was deserving of the best that life had to offer, and having a husband who used a wheelchair was not it.
The nurse gave the mask a little tug, which caused it to fly out of my hand and she repositioned it such that it covered my mouth and nose. She spoke to him in a commanding tone, "Try to calm down, if your pulse rate goes any quicker you will go into cardiac arrest."
Cardiac arrest? A heart attack, holy hell that sounded awesome right about now, and hopefully it would kill me so that I wouldn't have to live one day without my girl by my side. I tried to block out the pain by closing my eyes, but I couldn't. All I could see was Samantha telling me she loved me, flashes of our wedding and the day after when we woke up in the hotel and realised we were married, and thoughts of making love to her for the first time. I tried to block out the pain by closing my eyes, but I couldn't. All I could see was Samantha telling me she loved me. The fact that all of these memories were racing through my head made the experience even more excruciating.
I would have spent every day of my life trying to make her happy, but it wasn't enough—not only that, but I wasn't enough for her now—and I knew that letting her off the hook was the right thing to do. She did not deserve to be tied to a man in a wheelchair and given a life sentence for her crime. Since the moment I opened my eyes this morning and saw her dozing off in the chair by my side, I'd been thinking about this topic. I was well aware that she would be reluctant to leave, but I also knew that if I became unable to walk again, I would no longer be in her best interest.
Sure, everything would have been fine for a year or two, but after a little while she would start to resent me for holding her back, and then she would leave me. Things would have been fine for a while, but they wouldn't have been fine for long. It was in my best interest to let her go now so that I could figure out how to handle this situation on my own later on. I was going to be on my own sooner or later anyway, so there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
After what seemed like an eternity, the nurse finally removed the mask from my face and looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Are you ok? Can I get you anything? Call someone?" She was polite in her inquiry.
I gave a little laugh and shook my head in response. When I finally lost control, I didn't want anyone else around since I couldn't keep it together for much longer. "I'm OK, can I just have a minute?" I inquired while my tone was hoarse and brimming with feeling.
"Of course, hun. If you need me, please signal using the buzzer, all right? She flashed a grin before placing the call button on the bed close to where I was holding my hand.
I lied and said, "I'm alright now, thanks."
Before she left, she gave me one final glance before turning and walking away. As soon as the door had been shut, I found that I was unable to contain my emotions any longer; I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. I cried my eyes out because of what I'd lost. I bawled my eyes out at what I had to give up. I cried my eyes out over what may have been. I hadn't shed a tear since I was a child, but I just couldn't help myself this time. I asked to be taken away from this torment because I did not have the strength to continue dealing with it; it was the equivalent of living in hell on earth, and I was not equipped to handle it.
After I had regained control of my emotions, I went back to the room where I had been crying and lied down on the floor, staring at the ceiling while I waited for death to come and get me so it could take me away from this place, end the anguish, and put something in the void that had been my heart.
My parents came, but I was so overwhelmed by my emotions that I couldn't even force myself to speak to them or even yell at them for not taking me to the hospital for the procedure. I was completely incapable of speaking since none of my words had any significance. There was nothing else that mattered besides Samantha, yet she was no longer there. I just blanked out their comments by staring straight ahead and replayed Samantha's memories over and over in my thoughts as I did so.
I was attended to by medical professionals, including nurses and physicians, for a couple of hours; during that time, I thought I overheard someone say that I was on suicide watch or something similar; nevertheless, neither of those things were relevant. When I couldn't even get out of bed, how in the heck was I meant to end my own life? Perhaps they were concerned that I might starve to death or something else along those lines. Whatever, they were all idiots anyway, and the sooner I could get out of here, the better off I would be.
A few hours later, I became aware of a commotion in the hallway; however, I did not bother to open my eyes because I did not see the point in doing so. There was no purpose, there was no purpose in any of it. There was no point.
The door to my room began to open, but it quickly shut again after it had partially opened. The nurse warned in a commanding tone, "You are not permitted to enter there." Oh great, another one of those f***ing visitors; why can't they all just get the hint and leave me the hell alone?
"I need to have a conversation with him."
It was painful to listen to the voice of my guardian angel, and it caused my breath to catch in my throat. Why was she even in this room? Was she really going to make me ask her to leave again? Could I do it again? Could I say the words and rip my heart out for a second time?
The nurse spoke to me in a solemn tone and stated, "He does not want to see you."
"What the heck does it matter to me what he wants? He's seeing me!" Samantha said as she heard the door fling open.
When I briefly looked her way, I felt ill to my stomach since she appeared to be in such distress. Because she had been crying, her face was all puffy and red, and I felt like an absolute piece of sh*t. I wanted to throw myself at her feet and ask her to forgive me; but, the more practical and sensible half of me was wishing that she would leave and never come back. I wanted to throw myself at her knees and beg her to forgive me; nevertheless, the selfish side of me was delighted that she was here. That was the best option for her, and I wanted nothing more than for her to be happy because her joy was the only thing I required from this existence.
She yelled angrily, "I know you don't want to see me but I have something for you," as she stormed over to me and spilled the contents of a shoebox into my lap. "I know you don't want to see me but I have something for you." She was so angry that she flung the empty box against the wall while she was staring at me.