All Bets Are Off

Chapter Nineteen - Ella Fordman: The Girl of Sacrifice

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If she said anything else, I didn’t hear it.

            I didn’t hear anything besides a ringing in my ears as I stood there, completely numb. Without any thought, I spun on my heels and raced to the table, where my car keys were. I scooped them up from the table and ran out of my house, where I was immediately assaulted by heavy rain. It hadn’t been raining earlier in the day, though it had been overcast, the skies promising a storm soon. Looks like Mother Nature had delivered.

            Once I was in the car, I didn’t bother turning on the radio or the heater; I just drove. It was like my body was stuck on autopilot, and I barely registered anything besides the road before me. I’d only been to the hospital a couple of times—once when I’d been born, once when I’d broken my ankle dancing, and the other when Sage was born—but I knew exactly where it was and how to get there.

            I took the turns mindlessly, until I ended up in the parking lot of the hospital. I shut off the car and hopped out, not bothering to lock it as I ran through the heavy rain and into the cold, sterile waiting room. I ran immediately to the nurse, a young woman with olive skin and frizzy raven hair. She looked up from where she was typing on her computer, and raised her eyebrows at me in surprise. I had no idea what I looked like to her; probably a crazed, drenched girl with wild eyes and even wilder hair. “May I help you?”

            “I need to see Phoenix Adams,” I replied, my breaths coming out in heavy pants. Rainwater uncomfortably slid down my face, and I wiped it away impatiently, fighting back the tears that were sure to make an appearance sometime soon.

            She typed a few things on her computer, read over it, and then looked up again. “Are you immediate family?”

            “No,” I answered, feeling my stomach sink. “But please…”

            “I’m sorry,” she replied apologetically, biting her bottom lip gently and shaking her head at me. “Immediate family permitted only.”

            “It’s okay, Marta,” somebody said, and I immediately turned to see Annie hurrying towards us. Annie was probably working a shift right now, as she was dressed in her tennis shoes and pink maternity scrubs. She hurried over and grabbed me, her long fingers digging into the skin of my upper arms. She had tears in her eyes, and her brown hair straggled around her face in messy curls, escaping the sloppy ponytail it had been tied into previously.

            “Annie, what happened?” I whispered, staring at her, searching her face as if the clues might be stained onto her pretty features.

            She ran her hand through her hair and sniffled. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and that’s what sent me into a panic. I’d never seen my Aunt Annie cry before, meaning that something was very seriously wrong. “Phoenix was in a car accident. He was walking home and got hit by a drunk-driver.”