Abyssal Emotions (The Outsiders/Dallas Winston Fan-Fic)

Chapter Eighteen Sophie's POV

I don't want to accept it. I won't except it I repeat over and over in my head. I shake my head side to side and the tears roll down my cheeks.

"No! No, no, no, no, no," my no's become unrecognizable as words and come out as noises and gasps for air.

Grandmother and I never had the best relationship because of our differences but all the small moments are the memories running through my mind. Waking up to the smell of pancakes, late night reading, opera music playing through the house with the windows open a breeze keeping us cool. Although now all that can never happen again, ever.

I sit down on the floor and put my head in my hands until the tears stop. I don't know how much time passes but after a while I pick up the phonebook and find the number to the nearest hospital. I dial the number and report the incident.

I hang up and pick up the piece of blue flowered stationary paper my mother left the number of the hotel they're staying at from the inside of the phonebook. I dial the number and twist the cord around my finger while it rings.

The concierge picks up on the fourth ring, "The Empress Hotel New Jersey, Juliette speaking, how may I help you?"

"Hello, can you transfer me to room," I glance down at the paper in my hands, " 406?"

"Surely, miss."

Music plays over the line and the the phone picks up.

"Hello?" My mother answers.

"Mother, I came into the living room this morning and," I pause.

"And," she urges.

"And," I take a deep breath," Grandmother is dead."

My breath shudders as I try to keep the tears from falling.

"Oh," Mother says, then pauses. "Well, your father and I have reservations for dinner tonight and he has another meeting in the morning, so we'll head home then as scheduled."

"What?" I can't believe what she's saying. Her mother just died and she's more worried about dinner reservations and a job promotion.

"We'll be heading back tomorrow. Call the ambulance to pick up the body."

The body. The? Not her, not Grandmother's, not Mother's, but "the". I have no words so I just hang up.

I stare at the tan phone on the wall and shake my head. They only care about monetary value and that's the problem Dallas was talking about.

I walk over to the coach and sit in the far corner away from Grandmother. I tuck my knees under my chin and search for the rise and fall of her chest, hoping I'm mistaken. Although I know I'm not so I sit on the couch, hugging my knees, staring at my dead Grandmother, waiting for the ambulance.