The Plague

Chapter Eleven Shattered

After two days of barely eating, and little rest, the doctors took her off the ventilator, saying her fever has caused massive brain damage, and she wouldn't get better. I yelled at them, until dad had to come over and hold me down to stop me so I didn't hurt them. I begged them not to, they didn't listen. They said they were surprised she lasted that long. Everything was grey and numb, I couldn't feel any feelings except misery and depression.
A nurse came in to check her vitals, and looked shocked by them.
"What's wrong?" I croaked, knowing the answer.
"Say your goodbyes now. Her vitals are plummeting, and we can't do anything. When the line goes flat, I'll come back in and make sure she's...gone. I'm sorry sweetie," she said, then walked out. It sounded like she meant it. I could see tears in her eyes, even though Morgan's a stranger to her.
More tears. More shattered hopes. No more family, I'm now an orphan unless the Smiths adopt me. Even if they do, they can't fix my broken heart and wounded mind.
"Morgan, Morgan I love you, please don't go," I cried multiple times. Two hours passed, daddy was sitting with me. The line went flat.
"NO! NO MORGAN COME BACK!" I screamed, just to be dragged out my Cole and Logan. I watched as the doctors wheeled my sister on a stretcher, covered in a white sheet to the morgue. Everything was fuzzy. My head throbbed, my throat sore from screaming, and my sight blurred by tears. I was standing, just to collapse. All I remember was blurred people surrounding me, tears running down my face, and everything going black.
-one day later-
Everything was too bright, too loud. All I remember is Morgan being wheeled to the morgue, a sheet covering her face. Cole and Logan holding me back, then I collapsed. I opened my eyes, groaning. My wrist was sore, and I saw an IV hooked up to it. Sure enough, I was in a hospital room.
"Hey sweetheart," mum said quietly.
"It's good to see your up, pumpkin," dad smiled.
"What happened? Why am I in a hospital bed?" I blurted, and they both shared a look I couldn't read.
"You saw them wheeling Morgan up... up to the morgue, and you collapsed. You've been resting for a day and a half now," mum said. I slept a long time, the first fitful rest since mummy and daddy died a month ago.
"You look a lot better, Mary. You needed the rest," dad said calmly, perfectly content reading his newspaper, and mum nodded in agreement. Then a lady with a white coat on, a doctor, walked in.
"Hello, Mary. I'm psychologist Dr. Kelby. I ask that parents leave now please," she asked. "on your records it says depression and social anxiety?" I nodded.
"So, your foster parents say you aren't speaking much. Is there a reason?" She asked, and I shook my head after pondering it.
"Can you be more specific, please," she inquired politely.
"It's... it's hard t-to get used to a new f-family. A-and even harder w-with my parents' and Morgan's death," I stuttered, tears coming to my eyes at the thought of Morgan.
"I'm sure it is, sweetheart. Now, how do you handle all of the mourning?" She asked, writing everything I was saying down.
"I just... I s-shut down. O-only Cole c-can calm me down u-usually. I lay i-in b-bed all day, crying and s-sulking. I o-often have p-panic a-attacks on t-those days too," I said, thinking about Cole.
"Is Cole your step brother?" She asked, and I nodded. After a few more questions, she said goodbye and left. A few moments later, mum and dad returned. They said the doctors are clearing me to go home once they get the paperwork filled out.
"Can I see C-Cole?" I stuttered, ever since Morgan died I've had it, and I talk less.
"Sure, I'll go get him," dad said, leaving.
"Are you feeling alright? You've been acting depressed, which is normal after a loved one passes, but with your history of depression, I'm worried for you baby girl," mum said, and her face was distraught. I nodded, even though I'm the opposite of okay.