Falling For My Enemy

Chapter 33

~ Quinn's p.o.v ~

"Fuck"
I hear Mark curse under his breath.

He looks at his finger tips which were covered in blood from his cut that was still bleeding.

"Okay- how the hell did you even last a 3 hour game. It had of been hurting like hell"
I stopped driving at a stop light.

"Trust me, it did. I had a migraine out there too. But I toughened up instead of being a bitch boy"
"I could of drove you to the hospital you know- the game would of probably started late"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"I wouldn't be playing"
"True. But id rather you not play than be in pain on the field and not be able to concentrate"
I started driving once the light turned green.

He holds the rag over the deep cut above his eyebrow. At the corner of my eye I could see him flinch.

"This. Is. So. Painful"
"It probably wouldn't be so painful if you went to the hospital"
"Okay I get it Quinn. I messed up but the game was more important"
"Or you're just really stubborn"
"No- okay yeah but you probably would of done the same"
He argued.
"I actually wouldn't, I care about myself more than a game"
"You're just saying that"
He rolled his eyes I laughed slightly.

"God I can't wait until this pain stops"
He throws his head back as his body slides down in the seat.

"Well it's only gonna get worse"
"No?"
"Well I mean...the stitches are kinda painful depending if you get numbed but it's still a bitch"
I glanced at him.

He covers his face with his hand.
"Fuck!"
He groaned.

I scoffed.

I drove around slowly looking for a parking spot to park in. Eventually I find a spot and park in it.

"C'mon, lets go"
I unbuckled my seat belt and opened my door. He slowly unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the truck.

I could tell he didn't want to be here and I sure as hell didn't either, but don't want the cut getting infected or any worse than it already is.

"Isn't this where your dad is?"
He asked me while looking up at it.
"Uh yeah..."
I opened the door.

I hear him curse under his breath as we walk over to the desk.

"May I help you?"
A woman in her fifties with short brown hair and dark brown eyes asks.

"My friend has a deep cut above his eyebrow,"
He removes the rag.
"And I think he might need stitches"
I looked at it and then her.

"Uh...okay..."
She says oddly while giving him a weird look.

After about a few minutes of exchanging his personal information to her we were told to wait until we got called. Not a lot of people were here so I was assuming we weren't going to wait a while.

Once Mark got called we headed to a room and we had to wait in there for probably about twenty minutes until a doctor actually came in.

"So... you got punched?"
"Yeah"
"How long has it been opened for?"
The doctor asked poking his finger around the cut.

"An hour"
"Three hours"
We both said.

Mark gives me a dirty look. The doctor looks at him suspiciously.

"And what exactly were you doing in those three hours?"
"Playing baseball"
He responded.
"Okay... I'm going to clean it out so it doesn't get infected and numb it before we start stitching you up"
The doctor took off his gloves.

"It'll just be a few minutes until I get started and I'll set you guys on your way"
"Thank you sir"
Mark politely said as the doctor left the room.

I started laughing at him.

"What?"
"Really? One hour?"
"Whatever Quinn"
He muttered.

I scoffed, whipping out my phone from my jacket pocket. I went on Instagram which I haven't been on in a while. I scrolled through my tagged posts which I wanted to avoid the most but surprisingly wasn't all that bad considering it was mostly pictures of the team and I.

"You know, you could see your dad"
Mark said to me.

"I haven't seen him since Tuesday. He's really pissed at me"
I scoffed.
"Oh come on. He's your dad. You need to see him as much as you can"
"You sure?"
"I'll still be here by time you come back"
He assured me.

I smiled small as I brushed my hand against his. I got up from the chair and walked out of the room.

After walking through the hospital for a few minutes I came upon my dads hospital room. I put my hand on the door handle I looked through the window to see him lying there and watching tv. There were tubes in his nose and an I.V in his arm.

I opened the door and he immediately looked at me.

"Hey..."
I smiled small as I closed the door behind me. He doesn't respond.

I took off my hat and slowly walked over to him.

"I thought you quit?"
He said in a raspy tone.

"I did but...Joey wanted me to play with the guys tonight against Marian and we won"
I knelt down next to the bed, resting my arms on it.

"And guess what? I got accepted to the University of Georgia"
"That's great"
He managed to get out.

I can tell he was a lot worse than Tuesday and it worried me.

"Dad how are you feeling?"
"Worse. I'll be fine, I'm just sick"
"I know...you're going to beat it"
I nodded.

He wasn't. And I knew that. You only have a 5% chance of surviving Lung Cancer, and as the days progressed it was getting worse and the day was getting closer, to his life being taken away.