A Heart From Another

Chapter 4: The King's Fort

Chapter 4: The King's Fort

The moment I walked into Renewed Hope Children's Hospital, my mouth dropped open. The lobby was painted in a revolting shade of green, with a large mural of smiling rainforest animals on crutches and in wheelchairs (there was even a jaguar on a gurney) taking over the wall behind the reception desk. Potted plants were spread throughout, and vines draped from the ceiling. The air was filled with the caws of exotic birds and the earsplitting cries of a monkey. There was an obvious jungle theme going on. A few parents and children were sitting on the plush, lime green chairs that were carefully arranged in small groups. A huge, sprawling oak sprung up from the center of the room, reaching up towards the glass ceiling. The receptionist looked up at us with an enormous smile plastered across her face. I held back a groan at the completely childish surroundings. I did not belong here.

Mom stood by my side with a large, plain cardboard box that held my most important items in it. She insisted on carrying it in case I felt “unusual or tired”. She even unpacked most of my stuff this morning, including all my clothes and shoes, so we could take them to Renewed Hope. A while after, we had received a call that my doctor would be here late in the evening. So here we were, wandering around aimlessly, trying to find a map so we could reach my assigned room.

“Maybe we should ask the receptionist?” Mom suggested. We should have looked a map of this place before we came here.

“Sure, you can go ahead. I’m going to just get familiarized with this...wonderful lobby,” I made an excuse so I wouldn't have to speak a word. I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I wanted to get it done and over with already, but sadly "it" was at least going to take four months. At least.

Mom handed me the box with my life’s prized possessions (and clothing) and she went over to the receptionist. I looked around and found an abandoned corner where there was an empty seat. I gently sat down on the cushioned surface and waited. It seemed to take much longer than it ever should just to ask for a map. I looked over at mom and realized that she was filling out some forms, most likely about me. Obviously we weren’t heading to my room in a while, so I reached inside my box. I pulled out my sketchbook and reached in again to find a pencil. Sketching was the only thing that successfully took my mind off my worries for a bit and made me feel happy, even if it was temporary. I drew random lines not really having anything in mind. Soon I found myself staring at a drawing of a rainforest with a gloomy looking sky. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I immediately turned around, covering my sketch with my hands. I hated anyone seeing my work. It made me feel like I was a conceited. But then I relaxed, seeing that it was only my mom. She beamed at me, her hands full of peppermints. "Cassidy, look!" She squealed, shoving half of them towards me. "They're free! You should take some before you meet with the doctor."

I snorted. "Great. Because what could go wrong when your breath smells minty fresh?" But I popped one into my mouth anyway. "Did you get a map?"

She nodded, handing me a pamphlet with smiling children on the front, the name of the hospital written in large, curly letters. I flipped it over to find a map of the hospital. Apparently it had two floors, the first being for the patients' wards, and the second for the "hospital" part of the hospital. The divisions were masked by cutesy names; the "Monkey Wing" for lung problems, the "Toucan Wing" for kidney problems. My breath caught in my throat when my eyes landed on the Jaguar Wing. The wing for heart problems.

"Your room, room 223 is right there," mom said pointing at the map, making me jump. "First floor, near the elevators. Come one, we don't want to be late."

A feeling of dread filled me like liquid concrete. I nodded. "Right." Clutching my pencil in one hand and my sketchbook in the other, I placed one foot in front of another, following my mother as my mind wandered. This place was obviously meant for children ages three through eleven. What was a seventeen year old, a senior-to-be, doing in a place like this? Would there even be anyone even close to my age? It was almost pathetic how the place tried to shroud its true identity. It wasn't a jungle, it wasn't a happy playground where you had fun with the other kids or anything relatively like it. It was a place for sick people. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape it. I couldn't escape it. And there was a very likely possibility that my sickness would catch up with me, and take me down with it.