Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 10371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 52(@200wpm)___ 41(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 10371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 52(@200wpm)___ 41(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
I stare down at my hands, which are clasped together in my lap. Blood. So much blood. I can still hear her agonized screams, still feel the rage pulsing through my veins, the need to lash out so strong it controlled every thought and action. All I could think was to remove the problem, to hurt the person hurting her. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He deserved it anyway, and even if she hates me for killing her father, I did what was right.
Looking up, I peer around the waiting room, wishing I was back in the operating room with the doctors, making sure Claire is taken care of. Instead of sitting in this chair, waiting for a doctor to come to me.
My leg bounces up and down nervously until I shove out of the chair and march over to the front desk. I had to tell them Claire was my sister when I brought her in, or they wouldn’t have given me any information on her.
“Can you tell me if there are any updates on my sister?” I grit the words out as slowly as I can. I don’t want to cause a ruckus, but I need some answers before I explode.
“Claire, right?” she asks like she doesn’t already know.
“Yes.”
She makes a couple clicks on her computer and then looks up back at me. “There isn’t anything on my side to share. When the doctor is ready, he will come out and see you.”
I slam a closed fist against the counter, causing the woman to jump in her seat. “I want answers now. Is she okay?” I force myself to calm because if I don’t, I may rip this entire hospital apart piece by piece.
“I’ll… I’ll call back to surgery and ask…” The woman squeaks. I nod and drag myself back to the chair, slamming down into it.
I take my head into my hands. All I can think about is how she’s just a fucking kid, and now she has no one, I mean, she had shit before, but now she’s truly all alone. I knew the moment I brought her to the hospital, I would be the one to step up and ensure she was taken care of. Still, the mob isn’t any place for a child, and I’m not sure I’d be any better of a parent to her.
The thought of letting her go kills me, though.
“Mr. Torres,” someone greets, and I lift my head to find a doctor in a white coat standing in front of me.
I must’ve been so lost in thought that I didn’t hear him approach.
“Yes, that’s me.” My voice cracks. “Is she okay?” The beat of my heart drums in my ears, and my lungs burn as I hold my breath while awaiting his answer.
“The surgery went well. There was a small amount of internal bleeding that we stopped. Her right arm is broken. However, we managed to set it, so that’s good to go. Our main concern is the damage sustained to her eardrum.”
Panic claws at my insides. “What happened?” I barely withhold the growl threatening to pierce the air.
The doctor raises his hand in an I’m-not-the-enemy-here kind of way. “She suffered extensive damage to her inner ear. We fixed it as best as we could, but realistically, only time will tell if she’ll make a full recovery—”
I shove from the chair, all the emotions I’ve been keeping at bay rushing to the surface. “What are you saying? There’s a chance she won’t recover?”
“What I’m saying is that her eardrum might never heal, or it might not heal right. That means when she wakes up, she might be deaf or partially deaf. We won’t know until she is fully awake and can tell us.”
Deaf? She might be deaf? I could handle that. Handle anything as long as she isn’t dead.
“When can I see her?” I squeeze the arm of the chair to keep myself in place.
“In just a few minutes. The nurses are setting her up in a room right now and once they’re finished, I’ll have them come out and get you.” He smiles, but I can’t bring myself to return the gesture. I’m thankful that Claire is okay, but I know she’s got a long road ahead of her.
“Thanks, doc.”
“You’re welcome.” He walks back through the double doors and disappears into the E.R. leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.
All that matters is that she is okay. That she won’t have to return to that house or be hurt by her father ever again.
Thirty minutes and three coffees later, a nurse finally comes to get me. I feel sick to my stomach when I enter the room and find Claire lying there, hooked up to a bunch of machines with an IV protruding from her arm.
Her skin is ashen, in the spots that aren’t bruised, and she looks like a fallen angel. Battered and broken. I vow then, in that single moment, to never let something like this happen to her again, not as long as there’s air in my lungs and blood pumping through my body.