to light and guard

chapter six

The waiting room of the hospital held no comfort for Mary Eunice, all bright and sterile like she had opened her eyes from possession once more and lay, stripped bare and feverish, in front of unfamiliar faces. A candy striper had brought her a pair of socks and slippers, offered her some coffee or water. Mary Eunice shook her head, mumbling a word of thanks. The numbness had paralyzed her measure of politeness, and once the young woman left, she wrapped her rosary around her hand and prayed. She hadn't stopped praying since she awoke and found Lana, but each fervent reach for faith sent pangs echoing through her empty spiritual walls, a reverberated voice whose source she sought but could not find.

This is all my fault. How many times she thought it, she didn't know, but each time, it stabbed her in the gut once again. I shouldn't have listened to her. I knew there was something wrong. Folding at the middle, she pressed her tongue to hurry faster across the rosary, a race against the clock, and once she finished the prayer, she clutched the crucifix and began again. "I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth..." The lull of the words chased away the more destructive thoughts. It was not the sacrilege that comforted her. It was the routine and rhythm; like a hairbrush, the familiarity worked through her tangles and allowed her to lie flat once again.

The hours ticked by like years. When she lifted her head from her prayer, having repeated it so many times that the words no longer sounded like words, morning light had begun to stream through the window. She stood unsteadily; her legs folded like rubber beneath her as she approached the desk. "Miss?" Clearing her throat, she ducked her head in embarrassment to the nurse. "What—What time is it?"

"It's almost nine o'clock, darling." The nurse had a sweet southern lilt to her voice. "You doin' alright, honey? You been sitting a long while."

"I'm fine," Mary Eunice replied, faint, thoughts wandering back to Lana. Where is she? she wanted to demand. Is she okay? "Have you heard from Lana Winters yet?" Hesitance grappled with her guts and swished inside her empty stomach.

"No one has told me anything yet, ma'am, but when I know something, you'll know something." The nurse flashed her a smile. "You don't need to worry. She's in great hands, I promise. She should be just fine."

Mary Eunice excused herself to slip off to the bathroom; her haggard reflection stared back at her, hair in tangles, face blotched with ruddy patches, eyes bloodshot and lips pale. She washed her face with cold water and attempted to straighten her hair, but even that could not remove the brown spatters of blood on her clothes; she scrubbed her hands, but the remnants still collected under her fingernails. Lana will be okay. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she scratched at her own hands more vigorously, leaving red streaks upon her irritated white skin. She has to be okay. There's no reason she wouldn't be. Her belly hiccuped at the thought of entering a room, Lana there, awake, well, smiling. She will be fine.

The last she had seen of Lana tingled in her mind, stretched long and white, eyes misted over as she spoke nonsensical mumbles to an invisible figure. But then she had come back, regarded Mary Eunice with clarity as she said, "I love you."

No one had loved Mary Eunice in a very long time. She had filled her craving for affection by shrouding herself in God's holy light; what did it matter if she had no family or friends if God loved her? God's love would never peter out; He would never leave her. With God, she was safe. But she had forgotten what it felt like to have another human's love, to feel important and cherished. Lana was Mary Eunice's first friend. And you almost lost her.

When she left the bathroom, the slippers muffled her footsteps upon the cool tile floor, and she returned to the seat that she had previously occupied. She reached for her rosary, but the door to leading to the back of the hospital swung open, and she straightened as a doctor emerged, both dark eyes fixed upon her. "Are you here for Miss Winters?" She stood and nodded, expression deepening to reflect his solemnness. But his face relaxed into a tired half-smile. "You must be her sister. She was asking for you."