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✥ L A N D O N ✥
I burst into Novato with Aisha trying to catch up. The bright interior hurts my eyes but I ignore that and run up to the front desk.
A middle-aged redhead in scrubs has a phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, scribbling something down onto a scrap piece of paper. She listens carefully with a mildly bored expression on her face.
"Excuse me?" The lady jumps at my voice and holds up her index finger. I huff impatiently, my heart trying to regulate its beatings as I swear under my breath. Aisha reaches the front desk as well, panting, and tries to calm me down but the only thing on my mind is Evelyn.
When I heard the word car accident, my first thought was blood. Cracked skull. Fractured wrist. Snapped neck. Still heart. Bruises. Collapsed lungs. All those images crammed into my brain, and I was on the verge of having a panic attack.
I had a short vision where Evelyn was lying in bed, wrist connected to an IV drip, a bunch of tubes sticking out of her body as she struggled on life support. There was blood matted in her hair, smeared on her hands, coating her face. Her legs were mangled, arms bloody stubs as she screamed in agony.
I guess that triggered my hemophobia and amaxophobia; I have a fear of blood and also riding in cars, and the combination of both makes me stress vomit.
My heart thumps way too quickly and way too slowly in my chest, my fingers shaking as I shove them into my pockets. Beside me Aisha looks worried, her dark eyebrows pulled together as she gnaws at her lip.
"Okay. Yep, that's perfect Miss Thompson . . . You too, bye now. Take care," the woman coos before putting down the phone.
"We're here to see Evelyn Winters," I tell her hurriedly.
"Friends or family?" she asks in a sweet voice, but I have no patience. I just need to see her and see if she's alright.
"Friends," Aisha replies, gazing gently at the woman.
My foot twitches and taps against the marble floor as the redhead logs on to the computer and goes through the database.
She's exceedingly slow. "Winters spelled with a 'y' or Winters spelled with an 'i'? There are quite a few people with the same name and different variations—"
"W-i-n-t-e-r-s," I spell, cutting off her rambling. Sharlene, as I see from her name tag, nods slowly and squints at the screen, like my best friends life isn't at stake here.
Sharlene begins tapping on her keyboard but takes her time because of her nails. I take a deep breath, trying to reign my irritation. "And the first name?"
