“Oh, and they had to yank your spleen.”
So that accounted for the discomfort when I breathed, but not for the soreness in my abdomen. I wondered if they’d had to do exploratory surgery. Oh, dear God, could I have wound up with a colostomy? A child one of my foundations supported had lost almost the entire length of his large intestine when a seatbelt had cut into his abdomen as a result of an exceptionally disastrous automobile accident.
“Not that, Mother.” Quinton heard my whispered words and took my hand, holding tightly to it. If it hadn’t hurt so badly, I’d have laughed from sheer relief. “Would you like some water?”
“Please.”
He held the straw to my lips, and I was able to take a few sips before I grew too tired.
“Can you tell us what you remember now?”
“A car hit us. Gregor did his best to…But the car just kept hitting us, and then oncoming traffic did the rest.”
“It wasn’t an accident, a car hydroplaning on a wet road. It was too deliberate.”