He'd finally made it to the hospital to see her. It'd taken time due to his own recovery from the physical wounds and then coming to terms with seeing her in that state. That state that he had put her in. As he got off the elevator and made his way down the sterile hallway he could feel the discomfort growing in his stomach. The feeling made him almost want to turn on his heels and bolt for the exit. The guilt just seemed to constantly be chewing at him, would seeing her only make it worse? He made it to her room, 302 and peaked around the door frame. Luckily no friends or family were there. Either he'd waited long enough that their visits had dropped off from everyday or they'd stepped out for a break or lunch or something. Either way it didn't matter, he'd be brief.
She lay in the middle of the room with machines beeping and whirring around her. Her heart rate charted in green on a screen next to the bed and next to that sat a chair. He stood at the edge of her bed looking down at her. Tubes were shoved in her nose and mouth, IVs in her arms. She was almost an android with all the things hooked up to her. He felt sick.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. Saying it aloud felt right. "If I had known this is how things were going to end up..." he trailed off. This is where he was supposed to say, 'I'd trade places with you,' but that would be a lie. Just another lie to her like, 'Yeah, I'm sober, I'm okay to drive,' Would it really be that big of a deal to lie to her again? He took a deep a breath, "I want to tell you that I'd trade places with you if I could but that's not really true. The only reason I would do that was so I wouldn't have to live with this guilt," He stopped for a moment and just watched the machines inflate her lungs. "I don't even know if you can hear me or think or whatever but I just want to tell you that I do regret the decision I made that night," The machine depressed and it exhaled for her. "I shouldn't have driven at all, much less let you get into the car with me. I'm so sorry. That word doesn't really even have much meaning anymore and I can apologize all I want. No one even knows if you'll ever wake up. So does it matter?" He heard a couple of nurses walking down the hall outside laughing and gossiping. He glanced out the door and quietly made his way over to the chair by her bed. He sat and hesitantly rested a hand on hers. "I wasn't thinking clearly that night. You seemed so desperate to get home and no one..." he trailed off and hung his head in shame. "These are just excuses and nothing can excuse what I did," He looked at her, comatose, machines breathing for her, feeding her, he did this. This was his fault and there was nothing that he could change.
He heard more footsteps in the hallway. He moved his hand off hers and looked towards the door in apprehension. Her parents turned the corner and they all locked eyes. Everyone was frozen for a second and the only sound in the room was the beeping and breathing of her machines. He quickly stood, "I'm sorry, I was just leaving," he quickly pushed past them and walked into the hallway making his way to the elevator. They were speechless; their daughters crippler in the room with her. There wasn't anything that could be said