Beautiful Horrors

Chapter Two

The next day found Scott and I in his black car, on the way to pick up Rosa and head to the hospital. I lounged in the back seat, legs stretched over the leather cushions and head leaned back against the window.

Today was what I called a quiet day. I didn't have these very often, but when I did, it became nearly impossible to break me out. On days like these, my mind was thoroughly filled with one Isaac Bridges, our school's resident enigma. Enigma? That's not quite right. Unless enigma means "most envied and loved guy at [insert name] high school," then yes. An enigma.

I suppose I should explain who this Isaac is, what happened to him, and what he has to do with me.

I suppose.

Although, I supposed I was normal, and I was wrong then.

I don't want to be wrong again.

I turned my head slightly to the left. In the window, my reflection struggled to make itself known to me. Faintly, I could make out the general image of Nic Lewis, curly red hair sticking out against my pale freckled skin. Glassy brown eyes peered back at me against the backdrop of the outside. I closed them and breathed.

I was alive,

Isaac.

---

The rest of the drive was filled with the sound of debris perishing under the onslaught of Scott's tires, until we finally arrived at Rosalind Maele's house. It's aged slightly in the time she and I have spent apart. What's it been now - three years? Seeing it again after so long sent waves of familiar emotion through me. I could identify them easily as regret and anger.

The two only intensified when Rosa stepped outside, all beauty and elegance.

She had gone for a casual look, donning black jeans and a hoodie the same color as the lavender hair that flowed down to her waist. Her strong features were set as if carved from stone, a sharp contrast to the usual unadulterated joy she seemed to carry around with her. Its absence could be owing to the fact that today marks six months now that Isaac's been in a coma.

Or to the fact that she'll be in my presence for the next hour or so.

Rosa threw open the passenger seat door and settled herself in the car. Forcing herself to smirk, she turned to Scott.

"Wait long?" she asked.

I could feel Scott's eyeroll from back here.

"No," he replied. "My gas can wait until you finish brushing out your hair."

Rosa laughed, eyes flitting to me - in the back seat - for a brief second. As her laughter died down, there was a moment in which she and Scott shared a tender smile, their gaze conveying what they were both too afraid to say.

I forced my eyes away, focusing on a tree outside. Third wheeling, again. And here I thought I'd had enough of that with Rosa and Isaac.

---

The hospital building loomed intimidating and ominous before us. Rosa was radiating anxiety beside me. I could tell she was having second thoughts about what she knew she would see. Then again, so was I.

I haven't seen Isaac since the morning before the accident.

"Nic, I know you're a journalist, but-"

"What?" I interrupted, already irritated. Unfortunately, she interpreted my lack of reaction.

She crossed her arms. "What other reason would there be?"

"My life revolves around something other than you and your boyfriend," I told her calmly, restraining my anger.

"Sure doesn't seem that way," she retorted, perturbed by my calm manner.

"Too fucking bad, Rosa."

She gritted her teeth, and I walked away, satisfied. Ever since our falling out, I've lived for making Rosa uncomfortable. Smirking, I entered through the hospital's automatic doors.

I don't know if Rosa could tell, but I was probably ten times more nervous about seeing Isaac. There's something unsettling about seeing someone you love unconscious in a hospital bed.
I would know.

"Nic, wait," she called, following me inside.

"What room?" I asked instead of indulging her.

"Uh, 1080," she replied, voice quieter than before. Probably ashamed of her accusation against me.

"Scott still hasn't found parking?"

"No, but I told him the room number," Rosa spoke, "and I'll tell them to let him up."

We approached the front desk together. The receptionist hardly spared us a glance, furiously typing away at her computer.

"One moment," she told us.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the desk, crossing my arms. If I had to like any part of a hospital, it had to be this part, the front desk. It wasn't as crowded as the waiting room, but still not completely silent either. Entering the building were nurses guiding those who were lost, those who were alone, or both.

"How may I help you?" the receptionist chirped, gummy bear blue eyes staring a hole into my own brown ones. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a neat bun that accentuated her facial features.

I said nothing. I offered a smirk, but nothing more.

"We're here to visit Isaac Bridges?" Rosa replied in that kind tone anyone ever only uses with strangers. It sounded about as fake as the promises we made.

"Rosalind, I presume?" She eyed me for a long moment. "With a friend?"

"Yes," said Rosa, oblivious to the exchange between the receptionist and I. "Another is coming. He looks just like him-" she gestured in my direction "- just with darker clothing and hair." In comparison to my light wash jeans and pastel pink sweater, Scott's all black definitely seemed a lot darker.

"Of course," the receptionist beamed at me more than at Rosa. "I'm sure you know the way."

Rosa nodded and stalked away. I followed behind her, but not before having the receptionist slip me a piece of paper. A phone number, and a winking face were shown. How cute. I threw her another smirk over my shoulder and caught up with Rosa.

---
A/N

And...yeah.