After the Shooting

Chapter 4

We burst through the door and race to the front desk.
"Is everything alright?" Asks a receptionist.
"We need to see Georgia!" Dad says out of breath.
"Last name?" She asks.
"Parker!" Dad gasps.
She types something in to the computer.
"Sorry to tell you, Mr. Parker but visitation hours are 6:00 am-9:00pm." Winces the receptionist.
I look up at the clock in the hospital. 9:01. We missed the deadline by a minute. A minute.
"It's 9:01,' complains dad,' only by a minute! Can we still see our daughter?"
"Sorry, sir, but rules are rules. Patients need their rest. Come back in the morning and then you can see your daughter." Smiles the receptionist.
"We ain't going nowhere! We'll wait here all night!" He exclaims.
And that's exactly what we do. I can barely sleep or do anything. We stay in the hospital all night.
"Excuse me?" Whispers a familiar voice.
I open my eyes to see the receptionist from last night. I guess I did get a little bit of sleep last night.
"Yes?" Dad yawns.
"It's 6:00 so you're allowed to visit your daughter. You all look so tired,' she says,' would you like some coffee?"
Mom, dad, and I nod our heads. A few minutes later, she comes back with our drinks.
"Okay, we only offer two visitors in at one time so who wants to go first?" Asks the receptionist.
Mom and dad look at me.
"Naomi?" They ask.
"You can go first,' I offer,' she's your daughter."
     Mom touches my hand and then gets up to go. In about ten minutes, they come back. The receptionist escorts me to Georgia's room. She explains how everything works. I get ten minutes to talk to my sister. Ten. That's it. The receptionist just lets me in.
     "Hey, my sister!" Georgia smiles weakly.
She looks exhausted. She's hooked up to a heart monitor that beeps ever so slowly. I can only imagine what she's going through right now.
       It's going to be okay. I think to myself.
I walk up to Georgia.
     "How are you?" I ask.
     "Not well." She says in a raspy voice.
     "You don't sound too okay." I respond.
     I sit on the arm of her hospital bed.
     "I should've listened to you." She says inaudible.
    "What?" I ask.
    "I should've listened to you." She mumbles.
    "What do you mean?" I ask.
    "About marching,' she rasps,' you said it was a bad idea. Well, you were right."
    "No, no,' I counter,' I should've listened to you.
Marching was a great idea and something needs to change."
    We just keep going back and forth apologizing and saying who we believe is truly right. That is, until the person comes and gets me out.
    "She's lucky." The receptionist simply says.
    "How so?" I ask.
    "Where she was shot? She could've died." She says.
    "Well, where was she shot?" I ask.
    "She was shot right near her thigh bone. I don't know if you know this but, if you get shot anywhere near there, your blood clots and you can die. She was lucky she came to us when she did." She explains.
    "Wow." Is all I can say.
                               Two Days Later
Georgia is back but not how she was. She's on crutches now. She's going to be on them for about three months. It's now watching her that I realize this needs to be stopped. I have to take a stand. I witnessed my brother die, Kayleigh get severely injured, and my sister almost die at the hands of a gunman.
There was something about the Black Lives Matter memory with Nat. Although he was separated from his best friends, he still followed his heart. He was so confident about it that people just gravitated toward him and listened. Even his friends came back. That's when he began dating Kayleigh. Nothing was wrong with him protesting, so what's wrong if I do it?