CLOVE

nine

⨯ brennan ⨯

As I stand outside Clover's house, listening to the sound of the door closing behind her and her mother, I can't help but feel a mixture of worry and anger. Why does Clover tolerate her mother's behavior?

I rake a hand through my hair, feeling frustration well up inside me. I can hear muffled voices coming from inside the house, raised and angry, and it only serves to make me worried for Clover's safety.

I want to go inside and make sure she's okay, but I know it's not my place. Clover and I have only just started talking, and I don't want to overstep my boundaries. But still, the urge to protect her is strong, and I find myself pacing back and forth in front of the door, waiting for any sign of what's going on inside.

The sound of something crashing comes from inside, followed by a loud thump and a string of incoherent swearing. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. My mind races with worst-case scenarios, my imagination running wild.

I can't just stand here and do nothing. I can't stand by while Clover is in danger. I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and reach for the doorknob.

I turn the knob, expecting it to be locked, but instead it turns easily and the door swings open. I step inside, my eyes darting around the dimly lit hallway.

It's eerily quiet inside, except for the low, slurred mutterings coming from the room down the hall. I creep closer, my steps silent and cautious.

I reach the room at the end of the hallway, my heart racing. When I open the door and step inside, my breath catches in my throat. Clover is lying motionless on the floor, a pool of blood seeping out from under her head. Her eyes are closed, her face pale and sickly.

I drop to my knees next to her, my hands shaking as I reach out to feel for a pulse. It's faint, barely there, but it's there, and that sparks a flicker of hope in my chest.

"Clove," I murmur, my voice shaky. "Can you hear me?" I brush her hair away from her face, my fingers trembling. She doesn't respond, her body limp and unresponsive.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. I need to assess the situation and figure out what to do next. I gently run my hands over her body, checking for any other injuries.

Aside from the gash on her head, there doesn't seem to be any other obvious injuries. But she's unresponsive, her breathing shallow and labored, and that alarms me more than anything else.

I carefully roll her onto her side, propping her head up on my lap. I check her pulse again, my heart rate speeding up even more. It's weak, and my stomach clenches in fear.

I can feel my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, the sound echoing in my head like a drumbeat. I have to do something, but what? I look around desperately, searching for any clue as to what to do next.

Right. The hospital. Of course.

She's surprisingly light in my arms, her body limp and lifeless. I swallow down the fear and panic that's threatening to overwhelm me and focus on getting her to the hospital as quickly as possible.

I carefully settle her into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt around her unconscious body.

I jump into the driver's seat and start the car, my hands shaking almost too much to drive. The hospital is only a few minutes away, but it feels like an eternity as I speed down the streets, my eyes glued to the road and my mind fixed solely on getting Clover the help she needs.

Finally, the hospital appears in the distance, its bright lights and sterile facade a welcome sight. I park as close as I can to the emergency entrance and rush out of the car, lifting Clover carefully out of the passenger seat.