Wildest

Bats

The empty waiting room of the hospital turned into the world's most animated painting. Every intentional brush stroke, or patch of color never failed to scream a new light and offer entertainment. Jenny was hunched over her sprawled out legs, feeling the need to adopt a puffed out body language in the medical epitome of the police station, but roped back by her concern for Scar. She sat across from the door, tracing the number on her jeans until it burned. Rox refrains from showing expression on a daily basis, however the fear she was feeling made her most careless frown turn into a flattened pout. Jones paced outside the door to where the doctors promised Scar was kept, gripping his bottom lip in his teeth as he tried to put the pieces together in his coat pocket. Maybe he could pick up on something from inside that would shoot an arrow through everything, making the connections evident. The room was suspiciously quiet, after all. He would lean against the glass from time to time, making Jenny hopeful that his expression could return to them with news; any news really, but was always let down by his return to pacing. Pete had gone out for a cigarette. Theme had returned from the restroom where she cleaned herself up, and was hugging her knees loosely, looking down at her hands aimlessly. She might have cleaned up the vomit, but she didn't look put together anymore. She genuinely thought the voice would give her some advice. Has the voice ever arrived when she needed it, though? She closed her eyes, letting the wall behind her serve as a pillow for her heavy head and tried again.

Pete made his way up from outside the hospital, not fazed in the slightest about engulfing his lungs into flames deliberately outside a health institution, let alone receiving pleasure from it.

"Anything?" he breaks the silence, his breath still heavily doused in the history of his elegant, smoky friend.

"Nothing as of yet..." Jenny looks at him hopelessly. Pete watched Jones pace.

"What're they doing in there?"

"I can't....put my finger on it. It's gone awfully quiet apart from muffled voices and some boisterous beeping sound that doesn't seem to stop obscuring my hearing..."

"Beeping sound?" Jenny wrinkles her lips.

"The heart monitor!" Pete gasps, "it's been beeping all this time right? It's beeping now as we speak?"

"I-" the door finally opens, forcing Jones to straighten himself up. The doctor gave him a weird look, as if the door had some pre-installed x-ray system and he could gauge the shape of his ear pressed against it. Everyone else perked up to him like meerkats in the sun.

"I have a verdict regarding Scarlett VanProben's diagnosis." Jenny thought that doctors and detectives would be best friends; the doctor would dish out results riddled by an ambiguous tone, and the detective would have to make out whatever it would mean.

"Can we go see her?" Jenny asks, Pete was way ahead of her, attempting to push past the guard.

"Yeah, is it really bad?" Rox stands up.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow visitors before I deliver the diagnosis." he blocks Pete's way, gripping his clipboard to his chest whenever he would lean over to take a peak. "The tests only lead to one outcome, really, however the way they manifest themselves is truly unique." He pushes the glasses up his nose, "The sickness you have described was simply hyperemesis gravidium-- severe morning sickness."

"Excuse me, doctor, but this happened during the band battle, which is in the evening." Theme suggests.

"Morning sickness is a common symptom of pregnancy." He jeers at her. "Now, normally it is expected to receive these symptoms in week four or five...Scarlett is only in week one, therefore I understand your concern-- it was rather unexpected. Unfortunately I have bad news, regarding her heart implant. As carrying a child requires a more efficient allocation of blood, her heart is simply not strong enough. We believe that it is due to that, that sensitized her to impregnation. The fetus has developed to the extent that both aborting it and delivering it put her life at stake, due to major blood loss, and weakening her heart. Personally, I think that delivering the baby would be less of a risk to her life, however the chance of her surviving her pregnancy is still around 30%." even when they were waiting, the suspense was louder than the silence of unraveling that fell over the room; like the first snow over an exposed flower garden; peaceful, truthful, pure, yet icy.