The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

EIGHT | Code Gray

Lisa let her hand slip from the mouse and onto her lap. She didn't move for several minutes, just staring at the screen. She couldn't remember any of those older pictures being taken. It was like they had happened in a parallel universe. She must have been too young to remember, although some of the photos were from her toddler years when she should have been able to recall the moments as they were captured.

The longer she stared at them, the more frustrated she felt about not remembering them. It wasn't fair that there was a moment in time when she was genuinely happy but too young to have any recollection of it. Childhood seemed like a dream from which she'd been abruptly awakened. The shock of consciousness had wiped away any traces of that dream, leaving a hollow space where those memories should have been.

Cavernous.

Empty.

Air filled her cheeks and then she exhaled, spinning around in the chair by kicking at the carpet with the heels of her shoes. There was nothing else to do but think, think, think. Thoughts always turned ugly when they were forced. She'd learned that in detention. This was worse than sitting in a room with other people, though. At least then there was company. Even when she was the only one with detention that day, there was always a teacher or janitor or somebody sitting at the front of the room on their phone or reading a book. Lisa sighed and hopped to her feet, waving her arms and stretching. She didn't mind being alone. She just didn't like feeling lonely.

She did lunges. Jumping jacks. Anything to distract her from the monotony of silence. But it wasn't working. She was still thinking about the pictures, troubled by their existence. No, that wasn't it. There was nothing wrong with the pictures themselves. It was the other thing. The little girl that she knew so well who seemed to exist in a parallel universe. One where there was something to smile and clap about. Where her father actually paid attention to that smile and wanted to capture it and put it on his computer.

So, it wasn't about her at all.

It was the other, other thing. The thing about him. Who was the dad that took pictures of his kid and put them on a computer? Because it sure as hell wasn't the man she called—

"Dr. Crane?" the door swung open.

Lisa jumped and whirled around, staring wide-eyed at the door. "Whoa!" she cried, hand fluttering to her chest. "You scared the—"

"Is he here? Did he just leave?" the woman asked quickly, her curly chestnut hair only halfway up on her head. The rest of it had fallen in chunks beside her face. She looked bleary-eyed like the other doctors in the hospital, as if she hadn't slept in a month or two. According to her dad, the people here lived off of coffee, protein bars, and the pain of others.

Lisa might've added that last part...

"I don't know where he is," she answered. Her heart had stopped beating a mile a minute and she let her hand drop to her side.

"Okay." the lady slipped back out of the room, letting the door close behind her.

Lisa pursed her lips in thought before turning back around to look for something to do. The door swung back open. "Gah!" she cried, leaping toward the couch as the woman charged toward her with a green bundle in her hands.

"These are for you. I almost forgot," she said, tossing her head to get the hair out of her face. Tight curls fell against her cheekbones.

Lisa looked down at the pair of scrubs in surprise, realizing she was still in her robe and underwear. "Thanks," she replied, grabbing them quickly. She felt embarrassed but in a self-righteous way. If her father had taken the time to keep his promises, she wouldn't even be at the hospital.