The Homosexual Angel (lesbian story)

Fixing Things

<Aceline’s P.O.V>

All things came crashing down on me in one swift move, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I can’t talk to my parents, I can’t talk to friends in school. Megan is definitely not an option, and neither is Angel Morris. I can feel God smirk like Megan and sit back comfortably on his throne of stars. The thought of that scared me and cut me to the bones...

Who was I to go against his will?

Soon, I found myself aching to get out of these walls, and out, out anywhere that reminded me of a time before my life came to shambles...

Megan’s mom.

.

The next day came, and I headed out to the nearby hospital. I know it seems inappropriate to approach the mother of someone whom I just fought with, but this was different. This wasn’t about me and Megan. It’s just about my personal friendship with Mrs. Woods.

I had a feeling that she was tired of the fruits I brought, so I decided to go up to the hospital gates without bringing anything.

I walked into the open double-doors, and the guard checked me in. Without Megan by my side meant I could be a total stranger. When he said I was clear, the nurse at the reception interrogated me.

“Hi sweetie,” the African-American nurse, probably at mid-50’s asked, never lifting her eyes off the monitor built inside her desk. I have a feeling she says that to everybody.

“Hi,” I began, and my fingers began picking at each other. “Can I visit Mrs. Woods’ room, please? I’m alone without her daughter.” The feeling the words left my mouth made my eyebrows sink in frustration.

She looked up at me, carmine eyes behind eyeglasses, and nodded in comprehension.

“Wait a second, sweetie.” she says, running her fingers through the keyboard just once. When she pressed the Enter Key, her sweet profile turned into one of shock. She looked up at me again, and those carmine eyes told me something was wrong. Pursing her lips, she began to shake her head.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry but... Mrs. Woods had passed already.” she placed her hand on the desk, as if handing out an invisible bag of comfort. I unnecessarily backed away from the desk, gasping. She looked over me once, and went back to reading the monitor. Probably she told these sorts of news everyday.

I walked back to the desk.

“Hi, sweetie, what can I-” she looked up at me and adjusted her glasses. “Oh, hi again.”

“When did Mrs. Woods... Pass away?”

She gave a smile, almost as if part of her nurse uniform, and began typing away.

“Friday night, Miss. She died just last week’s Friday.” she answered. And instead of dismissing me, she looked at me as if ready to entertain any other question.