𝐴𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑| 𝑅𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟 ✔

LXVI

Staring at my car keys, I was debating on whether or not I should drive to the hospital.
I was back in Glasgow, and Priscilla was currently at my mother's, while I was bored out of my mind, in a class I despised, wondering if I should just pick up my car keys, and head out of the class.

Finally, I couldn't stand listening to the professor any longer, as I stood up, grabbing my stuff, and made up some excuse to leave.
I didn't need everybody in that class knowing my business.

I didn't even let the professor get a chance to object, rushing out of the class and building.

⚜︎

I was outside of the hospital, that the woman told me he'd be in. I was unsure why I had even bothered to show up, it's not like we ever had a good relationship. In fact, far from it.
He's always been a raging alcohol, who couldn't admit he had a problem, and he was never a loving or dotting father, in any kind of way towards me.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked out of my car, and into the hospital.
The familiar hospital scent, invaded my scent,
I'd been to a hospital many times, throughout my University year's.

I sauntered, slowly over to the receptionist, my heart pounding, rapidly in my chest, with each step I took.

"Which room is Mr... Grant in?.." I asked, my voice barely audible, and almost unable to form the words.

"Ward ACCU and room 15" She said, typing away, offering a polite, professional smile. I gave her a small smile in return, as I walked away, and where she said he'd be.

I hesitated to walk in, and thought about turning around and walking out.
I closed my eyes, inhaling a deep breath, before opening my eyes again, and opening the door.

"Dad?..." I asked, I saw him, lying there on the bed, his eyes were closed, and I could see his heart rate was slow, on the heart monitor.
He looked exactly the same as he did when I last saw him. Short, messy, tangled, brunnete hair. An unshaved, stubble beard and mustache. And has an unmistakable, stench of booze.

"Ca-Catherine?" he choked out, his eyelids looked heavy, as they struggled to open.
Of course he'd think it was Catherine.
She'd probably be the least surprise to visit.
Not that he treated her any better.
Around my mother, he would shower her with love, attention and warmth.
When my mother was gone, however, he'd neglect anything she had to say.

With me, there was no pretending necessary, my mother showered Catherine with love and attention, neglect me, while my dad, whether my mother was present or absent, would either neglect me or yell and scream for every little thing I did, whether it would be accidentally dropping something, unbreakable, or just no reason, other than he would be angry.
That was until, my dad divorced my mum. My mother tried everything she could to prevent it, as she was against anything the Bible disapproved of, but in the end, she took Catherine, while I was forced to stay with my dad. I can't even get into what would happen, when he'd constantly get drunk, but I'd always lock myself in my bedroom, and wait for him to pass out.

"Alice..." I corrected, my voice cold, as I stared down at my feet, avoiding looking at him.
I could tell he was astounded, when I announced my name, and that he had probably, fully opened his eyes to stare at me.

"Alice.." he breathed, inhaling a sharp breath. "You haven't changed much.." he looked over my features.

"Perhaps not in appearance, but I have as a person" I harshly said.

"That's what I meant.." he stated, as an uncomfortable, awkward silence made an appearance in the hospital room.
I shifted, awkwardly, from foot to foot, trying to silently inhale and exhale, not wanting my breathing to be audible, as he'd know how nervous I currently am.

"How's your sister?" He asked. Typical.

"She's fine" I shrugged, biting the inside of my cheek, hoping the ground would just open up and swallow me whole, to get me out of this unwanted situation.

"Good. How are you? What's been happening in your life?" he asked, trying desperately to make small talk. If I'm being honest, I think this is the most normal conversation I've ever had with my father.

"Uh, well... My boyfriend, Roger and I have a daughter. Her name's Priscilla, and she'll be 3 on the first of February. I'm studying Medicine in University, and that's kind of it" I summarized the main events of my life.

He was silent for a second, until he spoke up. "If I wasn't having a heart attack before, I think I am now. Daughter?" he asked, rubbing his head. "How old are you?" he asked, sarcastically.

"How old do you think I am?" I questioned, knowing he wouldn't get correctly.

"18? 19?" he asked, sounding so sure with his answer.

"I turned 22 a couple of weeks ago" I corrected, watching as his mouth formed an 'o' shape, as he looked away, with slight guilt in his eyes.

I sighed, clutching onto my head, before letting go, as I asked, "why did you want me to visit?"

"You're my daughter. I thought I was dying. Still think I am" he shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"No. You've never been my father. You never done anything with me, you never helped me. Christ, we never even had a civilised conversation!" I pointed out, growing agitated.

He looked down, with shame. "I still wanted to see you, before I would die. I know I was a shitty father, but I didn't want to die alone" he stated, looking up at me with sorrow-filled eyes.

"I don't know if I can forgive you" my voice was weak, and strained, while tears formed in my eyes, thinking about how he made my childhood a literal nightmare.

"I understand that. I do. But I'm glad you're here" he said, offering me a sympathetic smile, as if he had changed. I knew for a fact he didn't, as I saw the same look in his eyes that I saw almost 6 year's ago. He wasn't sorry. He was sober.

"Yeah, well, I don't know if u want to be here, either" I wiped my tear-stained cheek, and walked out of the hospital, rushing over to my car.

I got in the car, switching on the engine, but I didn't drive off. Instead, I rested my head on the wheel, as I began to sob. Why did I even bother coming here?

I eventually pulled myself together, feeling slightly embarrassed, as I felt a few pair of eyes on me, I drove off, dying to phone Roger.