Hallow's: Witch's Brew

Forty-Nine

Bad Omens- What It Cost + Like A Villain 

There are a few of Ben's friends in the waiting room when we arrive. I walk up to the front desk. Just as one of the nurses makes her way to us, Brenda comes out of nowhere and tries to snatch the pouch out of my hand. 

"If you ever try to snatch something out of my hand again, I will fuck you up, bitch," I stare at her. The lights above us flicker. She steps back, tucking her hand against her chest. 

"Is everything okay?" the nurse asks. 

"Yes, I'm here to see Benjamin Taylor. I have his emergency documentation here," I hold up the envelope. "I'm his ex-wife and the only listed emergency contact." 

"I'm his fiancée," Brenda lifts her hand to show us the little gold band on her finger. 

"No rock? Did you see the one he got me?" I laugh. Her demeanor completely falls apart as I turn my attention to the nurse. "I just came to drop this off. I don't really care to be here." 

"Mrs. Taylor," she sighs, and I know then something is wrong. "The severity of Mr. Taylor's injuries will require constant supervision and a few life-altering decisions. Did she explain to you what happened?" 

"She said they were in an accident. That she just needed his information." 

"We have his information on file. What we need is someone to authorize a few surgeries and manage payment for his stay with us." 

"Surgeries? What kind of surgeries?" 

"There was a car accident. Mr. Taylor was hit by a car and dragged underneath it for several blocks until the police pushed the vehicle into a field to stop him. We have been able to stabilize him and-" 

"I'd like to see him, please." I stop her. 

"You're not going to see him, Bitch. Who the fuck do you think-" before Brenda can finish, Noah stands in front of her.

"You're going to shut the fuck up, or I am going to drag your little whore ass out of here in cuffs," he holds up a pair of handcuffs. The nurse lets out an audible sigh of relief. 

"The doctor will be right with you. He can provide you with more information. Thank you for bringing an officer with you. She has not been cooperating with us at all," she says that last part quietly and walks away. 

"Gaz," Deaton, his manager, approaches cautiously. 

"Hey, Deat. What's going on?" I ask him. He pushes his bangs out of his face and shrugs. 

"I'm not family, so they didn't say much. The news has provided some details. Some asshole beat the shit out of his girl and ran. Ben was crossing the street and he hit him. He got caught under the car, and the fucker dragged him for six blocks," he presses his lips together and shakes his head. "There are pictures all over. His face is fucked." 

He lifts his phone to show me the pictures of those who were watching the incident. It looks like his face skidded on the pavement while he was under there. There's a video of the impact where the car is lifted just before it flips into the field. He was curled into a ball and unresponsive. 

"Fuck," I say and hand him the phone back. "Why the fuck was he over here, Deaton? This area is off limits, and you know why." 

"She brought him here," he says, looking back at Brenda, who is on her phone, crying to whoever is listening. "I don't know what they were doing here. She's not talking to me." 

"Let me see him and I'll deal with her after," I nod. 

His emotions are all over the place. Her's aren't. There's something sinister about her that I never noticed before. This is insane. The images are engraved in my head. No human doctor is going to be able to repair the damage that was done. His modeling and acting careers are at risk here. It's all he has left, really.