Room 407

And things begin to kick off.

Chapter Three: Room 407

 

I woke up this morning, and no one was in the house. Whatsoever.

 

I go downstairs, because I don't know yet that no one is in the house, and pour myself a bowl of Fruit Loops and add some milk. Then I sit at our counter and eat and stare distantly off into space, eating methodically, my brain in shut-down. No one has come down yet.

 

Hm. I go around the bottom level (we have a two-story colonial) and make sure neither Mom nor Dad is downstairs, then I head to the Xbox and turn on Halo 4. Even an English professor's kid has to play games sometimes.

 

It's odd because usually my parents are early risers, but I suppose they just forgot to set their alarm or something and are sleeping in (which is okay, because it's Saturday). Mom's headaches are still going strong, so it's not that unlikely of an assumption. But I still turn off the sound.

 

I was so engrossed in the game I didn't even notice as the hours drifted by. I woke at seven thirty (my school alarm rang, I forgot to turn it off). It was, like, nine thirty now. I didn't even notice. I was on a roll. That is, until I heard the moan of our creaky garage door opening... crap. Crap crap crap crap. I tried to turn off the game but lo, I was too late. I heard Dad's footsteps and all I could do was throw the controller to the floor and spin around to face him.

 

I glanced at him guiltily. "Er, hey Dad, what..." Then I stopped.

 

He was crying. My dad was crying. Why was my dad crying. What was going on? Was it... no, please let it not, was it... Mom... And then there was that moment, that brief freeze in time (worded so clearly by Aleksandr Vasiliev: "'Time is invincible. He does what he likes, with no boundaries weigh him down; he is God of the Gods, The Invincible One,' observed Jealousy. 'No,' replied Interpretation. 'Fear can stop Time. Fear knows no boundaries and yet he is one, and even he is not invincible.'").

 

At that moment, I felt Time freeze at my Fear's command, Fear who was born from who other than Love.

 

"We have to go to the hospital now, Aden," Father said.

 

I felt a chill run down my spine, and Fear tossed himself into the open air. "Is it Mom?" I whispered.

 

Father nodded, almost imperceptibly.

 

Halo 4 forgotten, it was a race to the hospital. Jamming on our shoes, we both sprinted to the car, where dad slammed the gas and we went careening onto the street, both of us mentally frozen from the shock. It wasn't until we were safely on the highway that I began barraging Dad with questions.

 

What's going on? What happened? Why is Mom in the hospital? Is it her headaches? Do you know what's wrong with her?

 

So he told me. "At about five this morning, your mother woke up and said she didn't feel very good. Nauseous. Dizzy. So I went downstairs to make her some tea, but when I came up, I almost dropped it. She had thrown up. Not once. Or twice. Or three times, even, but four times, and she was gripping the toilet like she was afraid she was going to fall over. Then she threw up again, and I gave her a bucket and drove her straight to the hospital. They were trying to figure out what was wrong with her when she asked to see you. That's why we're going now. I... I still don't know what's wrong."

 

Dad was crying, salty tears dripping from his eyes and off his chin. I was afraid. I was afraid for mother. I felt like I had to do something, but I couldn't, I couldn't do anything, I could just sit in the car and hope and cry and fear. What if she--what if she died?

---

"What are you doing here?" Life asked coldly. "You are not welcome."

 

Death smiled. "No need to call Harshness over. I'm simply doing my job."

---

Dad and I burst into the hospital, throwing open the heavy oaken doors like they were made of plastic. "Elizabeth Wood, which room?" Dad demanded breathlessly, hands fluttering nervously by his sides.

 

"407," replied the receptionist. "No visitors allowed, but I can see you're family. Follow me."

 

Clipboard in hand, he led us up a set of polished marble stairs (praise God for good receptionists) to room 407. The whole time I was drowning in my own thought, time still slowed as every step I took was another eternity.

 

It was cold in the hospital. So cold, too cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, but still I shivered. And some of it, I think, was on the inside.

 

Finally the receptionist pushed open the door into a sterile, cold room with a single bed and about a billion machines surrounding it. A single, miniscule TV protruded from the ceiling. There was one window, letting in a jolt of harsh light. And there was a person lying in the bed, surrounded by nurses and doctors.

 

Mother screamed. Then she twitched, and fell to the floor convulsing with spasms.

Author's Note

I actually have no idea how to play Halo 4, so I didn't really go into detail there. I know, I'm such a nerd. Don't worry, Mother's not dead. Yet.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very sad chapter. I like the way you are making each situation important. I like the set-up with the crying father. Allowed the reader to feel the pain and sadness of the chapter. The chapter got stronger toward the powerful ending. Thank you for the excellent chapter.
Coyote