Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Twenty - Three

The bright fluorescent emergency corridor of the hospital bustled with busied doctors and poorly patients from every corner. Worried carers of the ailed patients idled by on waiting benches, some wailed in agony and some quietly sobbed and snivelled in misery of having to sit through their pain whilst hearing others going through their own.
The reason why Ayeeyo Warsam hated the hospital so much. It was an ensemble of pitiful people and falsely optimistic physicians who lied through their morality even to the ones that couldn't be helped. Just like herself.

"You're going to be alright, Hooyo," Warsame laid a  kiss on his mother's forehead, overjoyed for she was alive and breathing. He ran through the greying coils of his dishevelled hair then dragged the large hand down his tired face, though his relieved grin didn't waver. "Alhamdulillah."

Ayeeyo Warsam had suffered a grave fall, causing her already weakened knees to worsen. The excruciating pain caused bile to rise up her throat and before she knew it, she was emptying out her breakfast from the morning all onto her bedroom floor. She had gotten up from her creaky old rocking chair to go to the bathroom as she intentionally left her cursed walking cane behind; not before staring at the damned thing for awhile. She hadn't realised just how much dependant she was on it, but it was too late, she plummeted to her near demise. It was like a sick joke from the thing.

"Take me home," Her voice croaked. She was gradually regaining her senses as she attempted to sit up on the wide hospital bed, but she was far too fragile to move. In her current state, a simple push could probably strike her down for good. She couldn't stand occupying the bed any longer than intended.

"We can't just yet Ayeeyo, the doctors said you'll have to stay overnight so they can monitor your condition," Hibaaq said from the opposite side of the bed, a relieved grin mirroring the one on her father's lips. Ayeeyo Warsam furrowed her thin eyebrows at this, her dispassionate eyes scanning the round expanse of Hibaaq's face, trying to gauge out a sour reaction; anything that showed she was unhappy about the situation. There was nothing though, and the elder did not like it one bit. Hibaaq was too relaxed, too affectionate and too full of hope. Everything she found detestable.

"I'm sure you are glad about that," She bitterly remarked, anyway. Hibaaq quickly shook her head.

Her hand that had been gently gripping her grandmother's for the past couple of hours, slowly rose to resume the comforting hold before Hibaaq quickly reconsidered. She let her hand settle back in her lap defeatedly. Ayeeyo Waram bring the ill- tempered woman that she was, would've most likely ripped her hand away or slapped the conscious out of Hibaaq for her 'insolence'. Her father couldn't be aware of their thorny relationship, and in Hibaaq's favour, he had been oblivious towards it all this time. Hibaaq desperately needed it to remain that way, no matter what.

"Gabhadey macaan, go home, you look as if you haven't slept in years," Warsame came around to embrace his daughter, pulling away after crushing her in his strong chest to gently run the wide tabs of his thumbs beneath her puffy and darkened under eyes.

Hibaaq gave him a toothy smile, feeling slightly self conscious as she touched the area. She was convinced that she would startle herself at the mere sight of her in a mirror. Worn out and ghostly from the absence of a goodnight's sleep or anything to fill the groaning void in her stomach since breakfast. The hour had already changed what felt like centuries ago, it was well past midnight the last time Hibaaq had checked a clock. Her heart still stung from guilt as well, she felt entirely culpable for the reason her grandmother was in a hospital bed and not in her own. The least she could do was stay the night and care for her. Although, her father had other plans.

"It's no use arguing with me about this, Hibaaq," Warsame pointed a stern finger at his daughter, wagging it whenever she opened her mouth to protest. "Let me take you home." Hibaaq sighed exasperatedly, wishing her father would just let her carry out her endeavours in peace, so she could feel a little less rubbish about herself, but she knew there was truly no arguing with him. She could never win against his will.