ISABELLA

❤Chapter 8❤

Tears gather in my eyes as Harrison tells me. I blink and tears roll down my cheeks.

"Okay, I'm coming" I close my eyes and bite my lower lip.

"Who is that?" Dave asks when I hang up.

I ignore his question and wipe my tears. "I need to go" I say, sniffing back my tears.

"The bus is not here yet. What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I will go myself"

"I will go with you"

"I am not going home"

"So where?"

"The hospital. My mum was involved in an accident. It is really fatal, according to Harry. I need to go." I walk out of the classroom quickly. I am walking really fast.

"Bells! Wait!" I hear Dave shout my name. I don't look back and I continue walking as fast as I can.

I stand in front of the school gate to wait for a cab. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand.

"Stop crying" Dave squeezes my hand lightly.

"She'll be okay. It's just an accident."

I look at him and smile. Just then, a cab stop in front of us. I tell him our destination.

"150 per person o" the driver says, in his local accent. He looks like he is in his fifties.

"Okay sir" we both say

"Enter with your change o. I don't have change"

"We will give you 500 naira, for both of us" Dave says as we enter

He mutters some words I couldn't hear.

"Okay okay."

The man starts driving, he uses his right hand to increase the volume of whatever song he was listening to.

I sigh and look outside the window. Harrison said mum had accident on our way to her office in the morning. He said dad called him to go to the hospital she was taken to. How did Dad even know sef?

I silently say a prayer for her before turning my attention to the environment. Everywhere is just noisy. This is Lagos, the mainland, after all. Horns from taxis blaring, people hawking and running after vehicles to sell their 'business'. I sight some guys trying to bullying a young girl. I shake my head and give a small smile.

I look at Dave. He looks like he is far away. I still don't understand why he is like this and why he is refusing to tell me whatever is wrong. We always tell each other things. I am worried about him, to be honest.

Soon, the man stops in front of a large green building, not too large though, but it is big and beautiful. Henjem Hospital is bodly written on it. Whoever owns this place must be really rich. I wonder what Henjem is but that is the least of my worries now. I just wanted to see my mum and be sure she is okay.

We enter through the gates and walk into the building and enter the main entrance which leads to the reception. We see a young lady behind the counter. I look around and wonder why there are no sick patients or people sitting around. 

"Good afternoon ma" I greet

She looks up from whatever she was doing.

"Good afternoon, I am the receptionist. How may I help you?" she says, her English so fluent.

Before I answer, she is speaking again.

"Are you here for consultation or complaints? Or  an appointment to see the Chief doctor?" she asks, in one breath.