White walls. Too clean. Too quiet. Issa sits hunched beside me, hoodie pulled tight, coughing hard into her sleeve. It's not theatrical. It's the kind that digs.
Hospitals love this part. When they already look breakable.
Issa: (hoarse) I'm fine.
Y/N: You've been "fine" for one week. That cough sounds like it's trying to escape your ribcage and start a new life. We're staying.
She grips the edge of the chair like it might bolt.
Issa: Doctors don't help. They just... watch.
Fear tastes sweet when it's old.
Y/N: This one doesn't know you. That already puts him ahead of the last guy.
Her breathing spikes. I stand.
Y/N: Hey. Eyes on me.
She looks. Still scared. Still six years old in the corners.
Y/N: You're not alone. You haven't been in a long time.
Because you never let them leave.
A nurse opens the door.
Nurse: Caldwell Issa?
She flinches. I move first.
Y/N: That's us.
We proceed inside the examination room. Issa sits on the table. I stand between her and the door. The doctor is in his mid-50s, calm eyes with a clipboard. Looks like a nice guy.
Nice men hurt people all the time. They just apologize afterward.
Doctor: Heavy coughing. Fever. Fatigue. How long?
Issa: I said I'm fine.
Y/N: A week. Worse at night. She downplays pain like it owes her money.
Doctor: (smiles faintly) That's not uncommon.
He checks vitals. Listens to her lungs. She stiffens when he gets close.
Doctor: Easy. I'll tell you before I do anything.
She nods, barely.
Issa: You won't... try anything?
The doctor pauses. Looks at her. Then at me.
Doctor: Nothing painful if that's what you're asking. Just medicine and observation.
Liar. They all lie. Even when they don't mean to.
He finishes, steps back.
Doctor: You've got inflammation and signs of infection. Possibly pneumonia. I want to keep you here for the rest of today. Monitor your breathing. Maybe give you some antibiotics.
Issa's head snaps up.
Issa: No. I'm not staying.
Y/N: You are.
Issa: Y/N—
Y/N: I know. You hate this. You hate them. But you hate coughing up half your lungs more. I know I do.
She coughs again, sharp and ugly. The doctor waits, giving space.
Doctor: She can have a private room. You're welcome to stay until visiting hours end. Tomorrow morning, you can come back and pick her up, if we don't find anything serious.
Issa looks at me. Panic, raw. Reminds me of the thugs I hunt at night.
She's terrified you'll choose the city over her.
YOU ARE READING
Madness: DxD
Fiksi PenggemarEvery time I close my eyes, I see a flash of the past. Sometimes, I see the battlefield with bodies at every step, and smoke from artillery fire everywhere you looked. Sometimes I see friends, Odin, Michael, and even Azazel. But most of the time, I...
