I Was Caught
1129 Words
"Serena!"
The door flew open with a loud bang, and an elderly man limped toward my bed, his expression twisted with worry. My breath hitched as I realized it was my father, who must have been called by the nurse to be informed of my condition.
"What happened?!" he demanded, his voice sharp with panic.
"Papa..." I whispered hoarsely, my throat constricting as a lump formed in my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes, the weight of his concern pressing against my already fragile heart.
I didn't want him to worry. And yet, I had done exactly that.
"Serena!"
“Please refrain from touching the patient too excessively, sir,” the nurse gently advised him.
He ignored her completely, gathering me into a crushing embrace. I gasped softly, feeling the warmth of his arms around me, the familiarity of his presence both comforting and suffocating.
"Papa..."
"You made me so worried! I waited all night for you to come home, and you never did!" His voice wavered as he pulled back slightly, scanning me from head to toe as if to confirm I was truly here, truly alive.
"Calm down, Papa. I'm okay now..."
"You aren't! Look at you! You're all banged up!"
The nurse chuckled behind him, shaking her head slightly.
"Papa... calm down. You don't want your sickness to get the better of you, do you?"
"How can I calm down when my daughter nearly died?!"
"I'm not dying, Papa!" I pouted, trying to ease his nerves. "Besides, it didn't even hurt that much."
I knew I was a terrible liar, but if it would put him at ease, I was willing to say anything. I couldn't let him push himself too hard—his heart was fragile, and I couldn't bear to be the reason it failed him.
Papa had always been there for me and Arnos after Mama passed away. Heart disease had stolen her from us, and though I had been fortunate enough not to inherit the same condition, my older brother, Arnos, wasn't so lucky.
But Arnos was strong.
He had a weak heart, but an unshakable will. Meanwhile, I—perfectly healthy—remained the weak one.
"Where is Arnos?" I asked softly.
"At work," Papa replied with a tired sigh.
"Again?" I frowned. "Didn't I tell you both to stop working so much and let me handle things?"
Papa shook his head. "I’ve told Arnos plenty of times, but he doesn’t listen."
Of course he didn’t. Why would an older brother ever listen to his little sister?
"When you go home, tell Arnos to prepare everything, or I will be mad."
Papa chuckled softly. "Leave it be, darling. Your brother wants to work. Besides, you can’t even walk right now, let alone go home."
I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "If work in the city is too dangerous, we can always go back to the farm."
"The farm?" He raised an eyebrow. "Serena, you can rest easy and let me handle the farm. You don't have to keep working yourself to the bone."
"Papa—"
"Serena." His voice was softer now, filled with a kind of warmth that always made my defenses crumble. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing through my hair, a gesture that had always soothed me since childhood.
"You’ve worked hard enough," he murmured. "Take care of yourself for once. You were careless, and now look what’s happened."
I clenched my fists, guilt twisting in my gut. "It wasn’t carelessness, just... bad luck."
A lump formed in my throat as the tears threatened to spill again.
"And now, I’m just a burden to you and Arnos. I was supposed to help—"
"Shh." Papa pulled me into another hug, his strong arms encasing me in warmth. "You're never a burden. This wasn’t your fault, Serena. You can’t control fate."
I nodded against his chest, though deep down, I wasn't sure I believed him.
Fate seemed determined to see me dead.
One more close call, and I was sure I wouldn’t be so lucky.
"Sir, Miss Vale needs rest," the nurse interjected gently. "Would you like me to bring you something while you stay with her?"
Papa shook his head. "I just want to be here with my daughter."
"Of course," the nurse said with a small bow. "Just please refrain from touching the machines. If you need anything, I’ll be at the desk near the elevator."
Once she left, Papa sighed, settling into the chair beside my bed.
"Stop looking at me like that, Serena," he scolded lightly. "Worry about yourself for once."
"I can’t help it," I admitted. "Did you take your medication last night?"
He hesitated. My eyes narrowed.
"Papa..."
He fidgeted with his cane. "I’m sorry."
"Promise me you’ll take it today."
He nodded with a small smile. "I’m sorry for being such a stubborn old man."
I exhaled, shaking my head. "You’re enough for us, Papa. Don’t ever think otherwise."
A heavy silence settled between us before he kissed my forehead. "Get some rest, darling. Your injuries must be hurting."
I chuckled. "A little."
"I’ll get us something decent for dinner," he declared, standing up. "What do you want? I know hospital food is terrible."
I loved him so much. He was always so thoughtful—just like Mama.
"Papa, no. Just go home and eat something proper. Don’t worry about me."
But he was insistent. "There’s a Chinese place nearby. Or maybe some fresh fruit?"
I sighed in defeat. "Alright. Just... be safe, okay? Cross with the crowds and stick to the sidewalk."
He chuckled, giving me a thumbs up before heading out.
As soon as he was gone, silence enveloped the room.
Sleep wouldn’t come. My mind raced with memories of the accident—the headlights, the truck, the searing pain.
I needed to clear my head.
I forced myself up despite the dull throb in my limbs, making my way to the bathroom. I turned the faucet, letting the cold water run over my fingers before splashing it onto my face.
Deep breath.
I stared at my reflection.
And then—I saw them.
Not just one.
Several figures.
My breath hitched. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Behind me, standing in the doorway, was a man. Amber eyes. A cold, unreadable expression.
I spun around, pressing myself against the sink. "Who—who are you?!"
He took a step forward. "Serena Vale, correct?"
I swallowed hard and nodded.
"Come with us."
"W-What?"
"I won’t repeat myself."
Panic surged through me. My eyes darted toward the emergency button by my bed. If I could just—
He lunged.
Claws, sharp as blades, extended from his fingers.
Darkness crashed over me.
Why was this happening to me?
- Writer
