A maid and two brats

3

The trip to the hospital was nothing but a faint blur and in no more than 30nminutes, I was racing down the hallways trying to find my father among the crammed crown of people trying to get attended to in the ER.

Behind me my best friend tried to keep my pace, pleading for me to slow down or at the very least catch my breath. There was no calming down for me though, not until I saw him, held his frail and delicate hands, and saw for myself that he was fine. Alive. Well.

He had to be.

If he had to compete to receive the award for the best dad, his chances of coming out victorious would be terribly slim, but at the very least, he was the one good thing I had in my world of bad things.

I could not lose him, not yet not ever.

I paused at the curtain separating one patient from another, gasping at the sight of my father. He lay on the bed, eyes closed, slow, rhythmic breath wheezing through him and an oxygen mask over his nose.

It was not the first time I had seen my dad so weak...vulnerable. This time though the sight of him like this brought tears to my eyes. Raw, hot, uncontrollable tears.

And it was all thanks to that witch.

She had done this to him. She had ruined my father's life, she had ruined our family even before we had the chance to be one.

She occupied the seat next to the bed as the doctor did whatever she was doing with the IV bag that was connected to his body. His slender, pale fingers floated in her veined, strong hands. Her hands were at cold as her heart. Cold, dark, unrepentant, instigating. Those were not nearly enough words to describe my mother.

"Get your hands off him," I barked, steering forward with every force in me and pushing her hands off my father.

"Deborah," she turned to me in shock. Her eyes were red and her cheeks glistened. It had been so long since I saw her shed a tear the last time being when she was threatened to go back to rehab if she resumed her narcotic lifestyle again. Of course, she was in the streets trying to get her daily dose of the c***k in no more than a few weeks.

"Do not Deborah me," I wagged a finger in her face. From the corner of my eyes, I spotted my best friend race through the curtains, breath heavy as she tried to wield mine and her backpack.

I may not have been given the very best father and my mother was, in my opinion, the worst, but all of that must have been compensated by my best friend.

"Daddy," I sobbed, shifting to take a seat next to him on the bed. "what's wrong with him?" I asked nobody in particular. Thankfully, thought the doctor who stood next to him was kind enough to give an answer, even though it did not do much to relieve my worries.

"We're running a few tests honey" she stood over me, watching me with the same pity look I had grown accustomed to every time one of my parents had to be in this position. "It not conclusive yet, but we do suspect a sew substances in his system..." she trailed off and I could al ost hear the unfinished words.

He had another overdose.

"I thought he was clean again," I whispered to no one exactly, managing to hold back my tears. "he promised he was clean,"

"Debby," Sam came over to me, wrapping an arm around me. It was meant to comfort me, but nothing at this point would help me. Pushing her hands off me, I got to my feet, glaring at the woman who had always been the start of all our problems.

"What did you do to him?" I spat, my subconscious mind aware that we were in the middle of an ER with different people undergoing different problems, the more conscious part of me that was fed up with everything though could not care less.

"Deborah," she besieged stepping closer to take my hand, "baby I know you're sad right now but can we not do this right here?"

"Don't you dare touch me," I hissed slapping her arm away?

"Deb please calm down" Sam tried a=gain, offering what little comfort she could.

"Please this is an Emergency room," the doctors' stern voice was low but harsh enough "there are patients here and I know this is a family issue, but I cannot permit you to take it out here."

"She is not my family" the tears that stung my eyes trickled down despite my best efforts at control, "you are not my family."

She stepped closer again, eyes still obstinate, cold, and impenetrable as icebergs but body feigning a plea. If I did not know my mother well enough, I would have fallen for her pretense care. I backed away before her fingers could reach me, "It's all your fault he went back to his addiction again, it has always been your fault but this time I'm warning you," I wagged a finger in her face surprising both myself and the small audience that we had caught, "if anything happens to him this time, I will never...ever forgive you for it."

She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of the monitor beeping rapidly stopped her. I turned swiftly watching in horror as my dad's breath caught up. His chest rose violently as the machines around him beeped in tandem with his heavy breaths.

"What's wrong with him?!" I moved closer trying to calm my thoughts as the doctor worked quickly to stabilize him. The silence I received as a reply only heightened my ire and panic. "I said what is wrong with him?!" I asked much louder this time, as two more doctors burst in, taking my place next to him.

The next few minutes were a blur or maybe it was so because my body trembled with anxiety as I watched the doctors wheel him away with agonizing speed towards another ward. All I could hear was the indistinctive rounds of the doctors trying to assess what was happening with him as he labored for every breath he sucked in, and then one of the female doctors said something that sounded like "we need to get him into operation," just before they disappeared behind the two large white doors that housed the surgery theatre.

"Dad," I breathed, as more tears streamed down my cheeks, this time I did nothing to hold them back. Sam did not say a word, but she stood right by my side, watching sympathetically as I cried my eyes out.

My mother was crouched to the ground at one corner of the hallway where we waited in agony for anyone to tell us anything. Hands folded around her knees, wither her eyes trained on the door as she sobbed. She was really actually weeping. Somehow that only seemed to upset me even further.

"Why are you crying?" I forced a laugh that made more hot tears flow, "you did this to him."

"Debby," she called softly, but it still came out croaky, thanks to years of putting god knows what through her lips and throat.

Without doing o much as a glance at her a second time, I raced down the hallway, racing past hospital workers and patients. I could not tell where I was going but I know I needed to getaway. I needed to breathe, I needed some air to at least sry the tears that continued to flow, and more importantly, I needed to get away from her.

The cold night air slapped hard against my skin as my feet hit the granite outside. With shaky legs, I sauntered over to the closest bench that sat next to the hospital building and plopped down, folding my legs across my knee and burring my face in between. A dozen passersby must have walked to and fro as I sat there for the next few minutes soaking my clothes in tears.

It was too much for me to bear.

Too much for a sixteen-year-old to live through. No sooner did I go through one hurdle t=did life throw another right in my face. But this time I was sure I would not make it out if I lost him.

I hated when my parents were all drugged up, too high to even acknowledge my presence or much less care. They were both irresponsible, most times intolerable and on most days I wished I had not been born by them, even questioned why I was birthed in the first place.

But I could not bear the thought of living without them. My parents loved me—at least dad did—and as much as I had lived most of my life fending for myself and providing for myself, I did not want to know what iging without either of them would be like.

I shook my head, refusing to consider the possibility that tonight would end in such a fatal way for my family. Dad had been in and out of hospitals more times than a regular person would in his lifetime. He would bounce back from this. Alive and fine. And this time I would do everything in my power to make sure he pulled himself free from my mother's tight and negative clutches.

"There you are," Samantha's soft yet firm voice sounded from above me. I did not bother to raise my head as she took the seat next to me. I knew my best friend would not mind that I was too hurt to speak to her now.

"You know your mom is also terribly affected by what's going on too," she said softly after a long beat of silence.

My head snapped up yes giving her a sharp glare that made her change the topic entirely.

"I'm sorry bestie," she took the chance to snuggle closer and wrap her hands around me, "I'm so sorry you have to go through this right now,"

"He was fine this morning," I was, finally taking the comfort of her hands. "he was going to go for an interview. He was going to get his life together and be a better dad to me."

She silently continued to run her hands through my hair as I spoke. I knew I could always count on her listening ear. "She did something to him," my voice dripped with scorn, "she always did. How can she be so cruel?"

"Deb, I knew you need to blame someone for what's going on right now, but I refuse to believe that your mother is capable of hurting your dad on purpose, and if we're being honest, both your parents negatively influence each other,"

I looked up at her, blinking a few times at the sharpness of her words, but I ould not bring myself to be upset at her.

She was not lying.

"I just want him to be fine," I whispered, snuggling back in her arms. I had never known what the love of normal parents felt like and although it was easy to fool everyone else that I was unbothered by the fact I could not tell; the same lie to myself. "I just want to be a normal teen, with normal life problems, like trying to pass my exams, like getting washed up at a party with other teens and getting into touch with my parents for it, like going straight home after school to finish up my schoolwork, not working myself out just to get the next day's bread..." I trailed off as my breath hitched on a sob.

"If wishes were horses, bestie," she rubbed my arm calmly, "if wishes were horses."

Another beat of silence passed, most of which I spent praying silently that dad would be fine. He needs to be for me. "I don't know what I would do if I lost him."

"You will not lose him. You have to stay hopeful." her phone vibrated as she spoke and she gasped as she saw the caller. "I did not tell my mom I was here with you."

I pulled back, "she's going to be mad."

She quirked a brow, "mad does not begin to cover it. I'll take her call quickly and grab you a snack from the cafeteria. I know you haven't eaten a thing all day."

I did not bother to argue with her, even though I knew I could not stomach any food at this moment. I wrapped my arms around my body, letting the cool early evening air blow through me, while I waited for her.

"There are smarter ways to make yourself ill," a deeply familiar and very unpleasant voice made me raise my head.

Of course, my day would not compete if I did not get taunted by him.

He stood over me, his tall shadow lording over me as he held two cups of what I could presume to be coffee in his hand. I turned my head to the side, choosing to ignore him because today I was in no mood to face any shameless coward.

He scoffed lightly, taking the seat next to me without waiting for an invitation, "you know it is offensive to ignore people who are just trying to be nice."

"What do you want Zachery?" I asked in a weak tone, tired from all the hours of crying. Why was he even in this hospital?

"My friends call me Zac," he said with pride, "since I'm in a good mood, I'll let you call me Zac too." I paused to look at him, asking a chance to savor his handsome chiseled face that always managed to make me boil with rage every time. Today was no different.

"I should be honored," I said drily, "I get to call one of the great four by his name. Must be my lucky day." I rolled my eyes with a sigh.

He gave me a long thoughtful look through his piercing green eyes, "You look uglier when you cry," he stretched one of a cup of coffee to me.

Asshole.

"And what makes you think I was crying?"

"Well apart from the fact that your eyes are puffy and swollen, I happened to see you storming down the hallway as I finished signing the process to get my grandfather buried tomorrow." he shrugged.

I turned to him, eyes wide in shock. "Your grandfather just passed away and you're here shrugging and drinking a coffee which by the way you're too young to be consuming?"

"First off, I'm old enough to drink a coffee when I want, second I get to inherit a mass of wealth, I should be throwing a party."

His nonchalance only made me want to spill the warm cup of coffee all over his face "you are just as disgusting as the other three,"

"I get that a lot," he leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. "besides they are my friends, I kind of has to be like them."

Why was I even still talking to him? Zachery and I had never spent 10 seconds talking before, most times it was him and his best friend Damien doing the talking—mocking me—while I was shooting them daggers through my eyes as I served them desert, wishing they would choke on it. "I think I'm done with this conversation," I moved to get up from my seat, but his hand caught mine and pulled me back into the seat.

"I'm not," he said simply in a cool smooth tone. He ran a hand through his already tousled black hair. "How's your dad?"

Another shocked expression crossed my face, "how do you know about my dad?"

"I know everything." he said without missing a beat, and took a sip from his cup. "what's wrong with him?"

"Why do you care?" I retorted, folding my hands across my chest.

"I don't." his jaw ticked, and he moved to stand up. "I just think it's also bad manners to race down a hospital carelessly. You might hurt someone, a patient." he leaned down to drop his cup and I rolled my eyes at the strong scent of whatever perfume he was wearing. It matched his pride and over the confident aura, "also, blue seems to suit you," he pointed to my hair.

"Your compliment is neither wanted nor needed," I shot back, "also your friend seems to think differently."

With a huckle, he stepped back and shoved his hands in the pocket of his blue jeans, unlike the others he had no tattoos, "We may be best friends but Damien and I have very different wants and tastes." he smirked and turned to leave, "I'll see you around ugly."

Of course, he would.

Without waiting for my reaction, disappeared into the hospital building. I scoffed, rolling my eyes at his unlikeable personality. It was only fair that they all stuck together as best friends seeing as they were all birds of a feather.

Intolerable jerks, ones I wished more than anything would disappear from the face of the earth.