The Supposed Terrorist

Chapter 19

3.42 am.

The door to the ER closed in my face. I stared at the glass pane, blank. Her visage was barely visible as the doctors operated on her.

Why did she do that? What in the world could drive her to do something so.. so...

Selfless?

I took a few steps back and slumped into the waiting seat. My heart pounded loudly against my chest. Shaking, I forced myself to look at my hands.

Blood.

They bathed in blood.

Her blood.

"No," I breathed. "No, no."

I tried to wipe it off on my sleeves, but to no avail. It only got everywhere.

My fingers clasped on my wrist watch, hiding it. My eyes darted from the ground, to my shoes to the glass pane, trying to look anywhere but at my wrist.

Half a minute passed, and I let my hand drop off. Hesitantly, I glanced down at the watch.

The olive strap was turning red.

I covered the wrist with my hand again, my knuckles whitening. The pain in my chest festered.

My feet drummed on the floor rapidly, as I tried to even my breathing out. She was going to be alright.

Footsteps sounded through the hall.

I looked out of the corner of my eyes. Connor dashed in. "What are you doing at the hosp–" His eyes widened. "Is this what you meant by urgent?"

His hair was barely made, eyes red. He must have been fast asleep when I called him.

Wiping the sweat of my face, I nodded at him. "I need some things done, since I can't leave the hospital right now."

He opened his mouth, probably to ask what happened again, but then shut it. "Alright. Tell me."

"I sent a location to you. The police must be there currently," I said, trying to collect my voice. "Be with them, whatever they do. Keep an eye on things. A woman by the name of Avianna Grant will give you details of what went down."

"Who is in the ER?"

My nails dug into the skin of my palms. "Rico Wayland."

His gaze flicked to the pane. "And... what happened to her?"

"...she was stabbed," I muttered.

Connor was silent for a second.

"I will be at the hospital for a while. You should make a visit home," he said, at last.

My heart dropped. "No."

"Go freshen up. I will leave for the police after you return."

"I am not leaving the hospital."

"You wouldn't want her to see you like this when she wa–"

"Connor," I cut him off, shaking my head. "Don't finish that sentence."

He stopped speaking.

I held out the keys to my apartment. "Make a visit to my apartment. Pick up a fresh pair. I will change into them here."

Sighing, he took the keys. "Alright."

The door to the ER opened. One doctor stepped out and closed the door behind him.

I got to my feet. "How is she?"

"Mister Wing, the patient's condition, it's extremely delicate. We are doing what we can," the doctor replied.