Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(3)

“Surgeon? Why do I need you?”

Whatever I said makes my mom grip onto my shoulder, her nails biting into the hospital gown covering my body. Another sob escapes her, and the sound hits me right in the chest.

The doctor clears his throat. “You’ve been through a lot within the last twenty-four hours. I can tell you’re a strong man. Are you in any pain right now?”

Pain? Everything inside of me feels...numb. Nothing like how I usually am after a crash with my limbs aching and my head hurting. It’s as if someone hit a reset button on my body, and I’m still booting up.

“No. I don’t feel anything.” I bristle when I meet the doctor’s gaze.

There’s that look again. Something in his eyes doesn’t sit right with me.

The doctor scans my body before offering me another reassuring smile. “I’m sorry we have to meet under this kind of circumstance. I’m a huge fan of your driving.”

The heart-monitoring machine’s tempo increases as the doctor’s eyes flit from me to my family. “If it’s okay with you, Santiago, I’d like to speak with you privately for a moment.”

No one says a damn thing. Not one single person makes a move to leave the room. It’s so damn silent, the IV drip makes more noise than the people surrounding me.

Whatever the doctor has to say can’t be good. Fuck. Is it cancer? A ruptured organ? Why would I need a surgeon in the first place?

I fist my trembling hands, unsure if I can do this on my own. “Anything you need to say can be said in front of them.”

Doctor whatever-his-name-is’s brows draw together as he takes a deep breath. “You’re currently heavily medicated, so I apologize for any confusion you might be experiencing at the moment.” The doctor walks up to the end of my bed. His warm smile drops a fraction, becoming something I don’t want to see. Growing up poor and an underdog allows me to recognize pity instantly. It’s written all over the doctor’s face. It catches me off guard because I haven’t experienced it in some time. Not since I made it and became someone. Not since I started living my dream and proving everyone who doubted me wrong.

A bead of sweat drips down my forehead. “Just get on with it. You’re making me nervous.”

The doctor’s frown becomes more pronounced. “I’m very sorry, Santiago, but you had an extremely traumatizing accident.”

“No shit. Get to the point,” I bite out.

Maya takes in a sudden breath. “Santi.”

“It’s all right. I can imagine this is stressful and I’m not helping. Not to mention, mood changes and fogginess are expected with the amount of morphine they gave you to combat the pain.” His eyes move from my face to the lower half of my body.

I tense.

He releases a shaky breath. “I want you to know that the accident wasn’t your fault. There was absolutely nothing you could have done to change what happened today. I’m very sorry to tell you that we could not save the bones below your right knee. They shattered on impact, along with the cartilage, to the point that there was nothing left for us to work with in the operating room. We were able to conduct the emergency amputation to ensure the rest of your leg could be saved...”

Everything around me stops. The whooshing of the machines. My family’s cries as they break down in front of me. The whole damn world fades to a gray so dark, it borders on black. One word hits me like a battering ram to my skull.

Amputation.

Amputation.

Amputation?

I clutch onto the sheet covering the lower half of my body. My stomach twists at the cry my mom lets out as she turns toward my dad.

I consider telling my family that the doctor must be wrong. He has to be wrong. But something stops me as I lift the sheet with shaky fingers.

It takes one second for my world to crumble around me. One second to realize my life has ended before it ever truly began. One second to wish I could take it all back.

I stare down at my body. My right leg is bandaged and wrong. So fucking wrong I can barely look at it, with acid crawling up my throat. I gag and look away. Someone places a plastic container on my chest as bile escapes my mouth.

I’ve never experienced pain like this before. The emotional kind that borderlines on physical, as if someone set off a bomb inside of my chest.

I’m not sure who shoves the sheet over my body, but I’m grateful for it. I shut my eyes and tell myself how none of this is real. Except my mind has other plans, not allowing me to think past anything but my leg.

Everything below my right knee is missing. The foot I use to press against the pedal. The calf muscles I work on daily in the gym to make me stronger. The very part of me I depend on during every race is gone, like it never existed in the first place.

Tears escape my eyes. I hate the feel of them sliding down my cheeks. I’m quick to brush them away, not wanting anyone to see me break down. Everything remains eerily silent as my world is destroyed around me. A hollow space takes up the spot in my chest where my heart once belonged, matching my missing appendage.

The doctor’s voice breaks the quiet. “I’m very sorry, Santiago. I’m hopeful that we can help you have a speedy recovery. With our patients, it’s normal to feel overwhelmed from the shock—”

“Shock? You know what’s shocking? Finding out my sister was dating the one man I didn’t want in her life. Or maybe learning I would sign with the best F1 team after only a couple years of racing. This? This is fucking catastrophic,” I hiss. “So don’t pretend it’s anything but a death sentence.” I stare at the doctor with every amount of hate I can muster. Hate feels better than the numbness seeping into my blood, erasing everything I once was. Hate is something I can hold on to. Hate is something I can remember when all else fails me.