Apparently, we were rushing into Kayley's room. What the hell must have happened to her? Hell, we didn't know.
Fortunately, Kayley's accident wasn't as bad as we thought it was. She was sleeping when we reached her room. Dad told us that she has nine stitches on her head. The three of us said nothing.
Kayley's room was pretty much better than the one with mom. You know, the one before she died. Furthermore, I never liked hospitals. They're just eerie and empty. Like nothing but a place full of sorrow and anxieties.
"Drink?" Dad asked, handing a soda.
"What happened to her? How did she get those?" I said, gesturing to the stitches on her head.
"Hit by a rock"
"Who hit her?"
Dad was about to open his mouth when we heard Kayley moving, shuffling the sheets. Dad rushed to her side and muttered, "Kayley, how do you feel?"
"I feel fantastic, dad." She said, her voice full of sarcasm.
"Who hit you, Kayley?" I asked.
"Great. My forever-great sister is here. Oh, wait, you're not my sister." She stopped, giving me a sinister smile. "Back to the question." She stared at Drew's eyes. "Your fucking best friend."
Drew's eyes widened. He stared back at her in disbelief. His face almost fading away. Like he wanted to melt or something.
"Drew, we need to talk." Dad said and Drew followed without a word.
"Happy?" Kayley bellowed at me.
"Stop acting like a bitch. It isn't my fault that you eloped with a goddamn bastard and eventually getting hit by a rock because of some obscure reason."
I turned my back and walked out of the room before any of them could say something.
I saw my father and Drew talking in the hallways. Drew was staring down at the floor while dad was like, trying to give him a lecture or so it seemed like that. I passed the other way though. I didn't to hear their conversation.
The worse thing was, I didn't realize that I've passed the emergency room. And it seemed like someone just died since a group of people, like five or six people, were crying. And all of a sudden, the scene of my mom's death came back to me:
Mom had never locked her room or she never locked herself in her room. It was in the afternoon when we knocked at her room and she didn't answer. That's when we got worried. My mom was a heavy sleeper, yes, but she never slept in afternoons.
We searched through the cabinets and elsewhere, hoping to find the key for her room but failed.
We tried bobby pins. And luckily, we were able to open the door. But I guess we weren't lucky enough.
We found mom in the tub, drenched with blood and motionless. Her arms and legs were full of cuts. Hell, so was her throat. All I could manage was a soundless cry. I couldn't look at her. Not with all those blood and her static state.
We tried to bring her to the hospital. But it was too late. Too late,
Someone bumped my shoulder and I instantly snapped back to the present. A person or a body covered with a white sheet was in front of me. People were crying and I couldn't stay in this place any longer. I just wanted to fade away and leave this godforsaken place.
