Fatal Flaws

chapter 36

The nurses switched shifts while we were outside. A fresh wave of unfamiliar faces sits behind the desk as we approach. I step slightly off to the side, hiding in the shadows. Allowing him to do the talking. The young nurse he's speaking to is overly flirtatious. Each time she speaks, a huge grin appears, showing off her perfectly straight white teeth. Great, she's the one that's taking us to the room.

I awkwardly follow behind them, half listening to whatever she's rambling about. Something about some a new surgical procedure the hospital is doing. I highly doubt he's even listening to a word she's saying.

"Here we are, room 6103. If you guys need anything, don't hesitate, to find me. I'll be at the nurse's station most of the day. And I'm truly sorry about your sister." She reaches out, gently touching his arm, completely ignoring me standing next to him.

"Thanks" he mumbles. Once again, I wait patiently for him to go in. We stand leaning against the wall, watching the nurse walk away. It's quiet for such a busy hospital. The only sound you hear is the footsteps of people walking around. The occasional beeping of machines, and ticking of the clocks, is almost deafening.

"Okay, let's do this," he mutters, taking a deep breath, and grabbing my hand before entering. Nothing could prepare us for what was waiting on the other side of that solid oak door.

My heart drops at the sight of her lying in that bed. The left side of her face is completely black and blue. Multiple scratches and small gashes cover her swollen face. It doesn't even look like her. She looks so different. Her face normally, caked in makeup is bare. A large deep wound held together by stitches outlines her jawline. She's hooked up to IVs and oxygen, her chest rising, then falling every few seconds. A thin hospital blanket covers her, concealing the hoses and wires.

She's wearing a sling similar to Hopes, holding her left arm in place. A hard black cast is covering her left leg from her ankle to the middle of her thigh. The machines beside her consistently beeping. After a while, you become immune, hardly hearing them.

The walk to her bed seems so long. My hand trembles, reaching out to hold hers. Her skin is warm to the touch. It breaks my heart that there is no reaction from her. No smiles or laughter, no nothing. If it wasn't for the marks on her face, she would look peaceful, like an angel sleeping.

"Sis, you need to wake up because you're going to be mad. They made you look a hot mess. Come on Sky, get up, please. I need your annoying ass in my life, driving me crazy. You always sticking your nose in my business. Even if I don't want you to. Man, I can't do this without you. I love you, big head. Please open your eyes," he finally speaks, pulling a nearby chair up to the bed.

Once again, a single tear falls from the corner of his eye as he sits beside her, placing his hand on ours. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. We stayed like this for hours. I lean back against him. His face buried into my back. Leaving me to watch the monitors, waiting helplessly for something to change. The only reassurance she's alive is the sound of her shallow, even breathing.

I must have dozed off at some point, awoken by him shaking me awake.

"Come on, they're back and I want a break from here. Besides, we both need to shower and try to get some sleep," he whispers. Stretching in his lap, I can hear his mother talking to someone in the hallway. It sounds like Ms. Flirtatious.

I jump up before they enter the room, glancing down at her. She looks the same. She doesn't respond to him bending down, and placing a single kiss on her forehead.

"Hey son, it's been a while. Are you doing okay?" a tall caramel-skinned man asks Hayden, as he approaches us. He's extremely good-looking for an older man, with perfectly tanned skin. Salt and pepper shaggy hair with a matching goatee. Broad shoulders with muscular arms. This must be his stepfather. He's dressed nicely in a pair of black dress pants. A white buttoned-up shirt, with the top few wide open. His shiny, sleek black dress shoes make a tapping noise with each step he takes. A large gold herringbone necklace lies against his chest.

"Yeah, sure, I'm doing fine. It ain't like my fucking sister is lying in a hospital bed unconscious or anything. How's your fancy life treating you?" Hayden snaps, his anger rising.

"Look, I know this is hard, but we need to be here for each other. Now is when you need your family. Don't push us away again," Robert responds, unnerved by the change in Hayden's voice. He continues walking toward us, coming to a stop beside the bed. His eyes darken, looking down at her. It's clear from his face that he cares deeply for her. This has to be hard for their whole family. I'm thankful that my father passed so quickly, so suddenly. We never had to stand around, waiting to see what would happen. Being helpless, watching our loved ones, wondering if they're in pain.

Instead, we were left with a never-ending list of questions that would never get answered. It's a different type of pain, one that you can bury deep down. It only surfaces occasionally, when you can't take it anymore. When the pain from the unknown surfaces. Why did you leave? Were we not good enough? Was it somehow my fault? Maybe it's the guilt that never goes away, that silently eats away at a person. I doubt anyone can truly understand this type of hurt. The pain of losing someone this way.

"This is hilarious. I'm glad you guys are still as naïve as ever, believing I pushed you away. Neither my mother nor you have ever accepted either of us. We don't fit into your perfect, rich world. Only Ryan does, hence why he's the only one that still speaks to you." Hayden hisses under his breath, balling his hand into a fist.

"I'm glad you're still here, dear," his mother addresses him, stepping into the room. She walks over, placing her arm through her husband's.

"Sure you are. My bad we're on our way out, sorry" he grabs my hand, pulling me along. His mother stops us, placing her hand on his chest.

"Hayden, you can't hate me forever because of the past. Your right. I didn't handle things the right way, and for that, I am truly sorry. I regret it. I just want my family back together. Can you please forgive me?" she cries, looking into his eyes. But his are cold and empty, with no signs of emotion behind them. Her words mean nothing to him. They have no effect.

His free hand pushes hers away. "Stop, I don't want to hear your lame excuses. Or your weak joke of an apology. The only thing you are sorry about is that you can't buy my love back with your blood money. Now move out of our way, and leave me the hell alone," he barks, pushing past her, and pulling me behind him.

"Hayden, slow down you! You are hurting my arm," I plead with him, trying to keep up with his fast pace.

"My bad," he snaps, dropping my hand. He continues almost running towards the exit. Not bothered by the harshness of the wind, I continue after him toward the car. Climbing in, he slams the door, rattling the window glass. He pays no attention to it, reaching across me to open the glove box. Its contents rustle around as he rummages through it. Several pieces of paper fall out onto the floor.

Without speaking, he pulls a blunt out, lighting it and holding it up to his lips. He inhales deeply, releasing a vast cloud of smoke. The smoke gags me, but the smell is overpowering. I miss the taste of it, but I know I can't. One thing always leads to another with me. It can never just be something simple, like smoking a little weed. I always have to take it to the extreme. He takes a few more hits before butting it out in the car's ashtray. Turning the key, the engine roars to life. I settle back into my seat, not wanting to piss him off even more, deciding to keep quiet. Lying back, I close my eyes. I wish I could take everything back. This whole day has been a nightmare. I don't know how much more I can take. Maybe I should go home, back to my mom's. But that would mean leaving Hayden?