NINE
1304 Words
Lizzie’s POV
In the span of three hours, I arrived home, packed a few clothes into a duffel, and took a cab to the airport. Luckily, I hadn’t missed my flight and soon found myself in Michigan.
The hospital loomed large and sterile, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and I fought the very urge to puke.
I practically ran to the reception counter.
The receptionist looked up from her computer, giving me a professional smile.
“Good afternoon, Miss. How can I help you?”
“Good afternoon,” I replied, trying to catch my breath. “I’m here to see my father, John Daniel. He was admitted earlier.”
She typed quickly on her keyboard, her expression blank.
“Let me check... yes, Mr. John Daniel. He’s in Room 312, on the third floor.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Is he... how is he?”
The receptionist’s smile softened. “I’m not at liberty to discuss his condition, but the nurses on his floor can give you more information.”
“Okay, thank you,” I said, my nerves taut.
“I’ll head up there now.”
She nodded. “Take the elevator down the hall to the right. I hope your father feels better soon.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, already moving towards the elevator.
I took a deep breath as I waited for the elevator, the sterile scent of the hospital sharp in my nose.
I had never liked hospitals ever since the first I had been admitted in one.
It scared the s**t out of me.
When the doors opened, I stepped inside.
I didn’t know what to feel or how to feel going to see my dad.
I couldn’t imagine the state he must be in. And I tried my very best to keep Reed at the back of my head but the very thought of him moved to and fro in my mind.
Shit.
On the third floor, I followed the signs to Room 312. My steps were quick, and as I reached the door, I hesitated for a split second before pushing it open.
Inside, the room was quiet except for the soft beeping of machines.
My dad lay on the bed, pale and unconscious, his head and neck swathed in thick bandages. A stark IV line ran from his arm to a drip, and monitors displayed his vital signs in fluctuating lines and numbers. The bandages were spotted with dried blood where he’d been shot.
It was a horrifying contrast against the white linen.
Mum sat by his side, her eyes red-rimmed and weary, clutching his hand like it was her lifeline. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“Mum,” I said softly, my voice catching in my throat.
I could feel my tears brimming.
I couldn’t stand seeing my parents like this.
She looked up at me, her eyes were exhausted and it broke my heart.
“Liz, you’re here,” she whispered.
“Thank God.”
I nodded, my gaze fixed on my dad’s still form.
“How is he?”
“They say he’s stable,” Mum replied, her grip tightening on Dad’s hand. M“But he’s still unconscious. The surgery went well, but... we just have to wait.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back my own tears as I reached out to touch his other hand, cold and unresponsive under my fingers. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and still, was a sight I could never have imagined in my worst nightmares.
“He’s strong,” I said, more to myself than anyone.
“He’ll pull through.”
Reed said so and as much as I’d hate to admit it, I had fate in Reed.
My father will pull through.
Mum nodded, her eyes never leaving Dad’s face. “He will. He has to.”
I sat down in the chair beside her.
All I could do now was wait and hope for his recovery.
An hour passed, and a doctor came in to check on Dad, promising he would regain consciousness in no time. The pain of the wait was aggravating.
The second hour passed, and still nothing changed, except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was reassuring, but the wait….
Mum hadn’t eaten since the accident, so I offered to get her something from the cafeteria. She finally admitted she was hungry, and I left her side reluctantly to find some food.
The cafeteria’s offerings were limited, so I grabbed a box of chicken nuggets and a bottle of water, hoping it would be enough. When I returned, Mum ate the nuggets with a kind of mechanical focus, almost religiously.
“Thank you, Izzie,” she murmured, her eyes still tired.
“Of course, Mum,” I said softly, squeezing her shoulder. “You need to keep up your strength for him.”
She nodded, then picked up the TV remote from the small table beside the bed. With a deep sigh, she turned on the television, skimming through channels.
I settled back into my chair, my eyes lingering on Dad’s still form.
If he hadn’t taken that new job, he wouldn’t be here.
In here l, fighting for his life.
The TV settled on a food channel, the drone of the anchor’s voice filling the room.
I glanced at the screen but couldn’t focus for more than a minute.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” I asked.
Mum didn’t look away from the screen, but she reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tightly.
“He will be, Liz. He’s a fighter.”
I nodded, and my phone suddenly rang, breaking the silence. I dug into my pocket, glancing at the caller ID. It was Evie.
“I’ll be right back, Mum,” I said softly, excusing myself. I got off the chair and stepped outside the room, accepting the call on the third ring.
“What the f**k, Lizzie?” Evie’s voice came through.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Reed showed up at my apartment!” she practically yelled.
“He got Drey arrested! He's asking for your goddamn whereabouts.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
“Why would he do that?”
“He’s claiming Drey was trespassing and trying to abduct you,” she said.
“He barged in, all pissed off, and next thing I know, the cops are cuffing Drey.”
“Oh my God,” I muttered, pressing my hand to my forehead.
“That’s insane.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Evie snapped.
“Drey’s at the station now, and they’re saying he might get charged unless you come forward and clear this up.”
I felt a surge of guilt hit me, I had been ignoring Reeds calls since I left.
But that didn’t mean he had to get Drey arrested.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I said.
“I just wanted to get away from Reed.”
“Well, now you need to fix it,” Evie said
“You need to go to the station and explain. Otherwise, Drey’s in serious trouble.”
“I’m in Michigan,” I said.
“I can’t just run back there.”
“Call Reed,” she urged.
“Tell him where you are and what’s going on with your dad. Maybe he’ll back off.”
I swallowed hard, dreading the idea of talking to Reed after everything.
“Okay, I’ll call him,” I said reluctantly.
“But this is such a mess.”
“Tell me about it,” Evie said.
“Just hurry. My man doesn’t deserve this.”
“I will,” I promised.
“I’ll handle it.”
- Writer
