Where Dreams Lay

[seven]

[seven] "I think I'll miss you forever . . . like the stars miss the morning sky"

-lana del rey

I've learned to hate hospitals-the white walls, the smell, and constant feeling that there could be someone dying in any one of the rooms.

I can't stand it.

My father died last night at 12:17am. He had internal damage and the doctors didn't think he would die so quickly. They thought he would make it a couple of days, possibly more if he had the right treatment-but they didn't. They were too late.

My butt is beginning to ache, that's another thing I hate-the waiting chairs. I haven't left and not sure if I can, but I want to. I want to go home and lie in bed, then wake up and realize this is all a dream.

But it's not. This is real.

I feel like there's no hope for the future. What do I do now? Am I supposed to go home, and mourn over all of this? Or do I go back to school, send Luke, Joey and Casey back too, and pretend everything's okay? Margret agreed to help. She said that until things get better, she would try to stay as long as possible. Somehow, I feel like there's something she's not telling me, because when said she would try to stay, it almost sounded like she wasn't certain about it.

It's eight o'clock and I'm awakening by a figure shaking my body. Once my eyes open completely and my vision is clear, I notice that it's Margret, looking even more tired than how I saw her last night. She probably didn't get a lot of sleep.

"Paris. Paris, honey wake up please."

"Margret? What's going on?" I sit up and immediately an ache in my lower back produces, causing me to wince in the pain.

"Everything's okay hun, I'm just going out to get some better food and other supplies. I won't be long . . . just watch your brothers and sister please."

I nod and rub my eyes, which are black a day after applying makeup for the first time. Note to self: don't bother with eyeliner and mascara. Ever again.

Casey and Joey are leaning against each other, still sound asleep, and Luke is right beside them. I decide to check up on everything, since last night was kind of hectic. Who knows what happened in the last six hours.

The lady at the front counter looks up when I tap my fingers against the marble stone. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, with black side bangs falling out loosely.

"Um, hi I'm-"

"I know who you are, miss. I also know what information you are seeking. Just give me a minute okay?"

She speaks so fast and fluently; it takes a second for me to register what she just told me. I nod and stay silent when she stands up and leaves the counter. Nervously, I tap my left foot on the floor in a continuous pattern, hoping that the small act of movement will calm me down a bit.

She returns with the doctor who managed my Father before . . . that happened. They come around the counter and stand a foot in front of me. His hands make their way into pockets sewed on the lab coat he wears, and I look into his eyes, hoping good news will fill the silence.

"Ms. Anderson, awake so soon?" he says this slowly, and I feel like he's going to try and carry a conversation starting with how I'm feeling and all that crap I don't want to talk about. So when I speak, I make sure my voice is sharp and clear, "Tell me everything that happened. I want to-no, need to know-what it is I must do."

He smiles, then says, "Ms. Anderson-"

"Paris. Call me Paris." I interrupt him.

"Paris, your father wasn't able to make it through what we thought he would. His death was a shock and I assure you that we did out absolute best to make sure he stayed healthy, but it seems as though his body had other plans." He pauses and I stay silent, waiting for further information. He notices this and continues, "Furthermore, there is still no sign of your mother. The police have been trying to track down the people who kidnapped her, but so far, nothing has come up. Meaning there is no reason for you to stay here anymore. We advise you to return to your home, and let the police do the investigating."