Dancing With The Devil

mommy dead and dearest.

"What do you mean your mom's alive?" Luke asked, driving to the hospital. I sat impatiently in the passenger seat, my leg bopping up and down.

"I don't know. That's just what they said. I know it's not her. I just need to go and make sure"

"This is crazy" he exclaimed. I was really hoping that Luke hadn't come with me because the hospital is expecting Emrie Fey, not Madelaine Grey. This could blow my whole cover. As we pulled up to the emergency room entrance, my chest felt like it was caving in on me.

"Want me to come in with you or stay here?"

"I wanna go in alone... if you don't mind"

"Not at all. I'll be right out here" thank god.

"Thanks, babe" I gave him a kiss before opening the door.

"Take my jacket with you. Cover your butt!"

I laughed and obeyed his order. I headed inside the hospital before my body could react to the cold air.

"Hi I'm Emrie Fey, I was called in about my mother. She was in a car accident," I said to the nurse's counter.

"Yes, come with me," she said, holding a file.

"Wait. What is my mother's name and birthday in your file?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can you just check? Please" I asked, politely. She huffed angrily and opened the file in her hand.

"Mae Hyuna. Birthday is November 12th", the nurse said. That was my mother's name and birthday. She kept her maiden name. This was her. But how?

"Ok thank you," I said. The nurse continued walking me to her hospital room. Her room was at the end of a lonely hall. My palms began to sweat and anxiety overtook me. I had my fingers crossed behind my back hoping that it wasn't her.

She took me to the door and put the file in a holder on the door. "I will page Dr. Koracick for you," she said, walking away before even finishing her sentence. I put my hand on the door handle, knowing that if my mother was actually behind this door, everything was going to change. Maybe it's better if I don't go in and just leave the hospital. But then again, this could be a miscommunication and I have nothing to worry about. But if I leave, I'll never stop wondering. I twisted the door handle and entered the room.

There she was, in the flesh and blood. She was unconscious and hooked up to a ventilator. Her body and face were bandaged up but I could tell it was her. She was just as beautiful as I remembered. Just as beautiful as the day she laid in her casket.

I entered deeper into the room and stood at the foot of her bed. It was like she hadn't aged a day. Besides a few wrinkles and scattered grey hairs, she looked like the same angel she was at her funeral. Some angels are destined to fall but those who fall, sometimes fall too hard.

I sat down in the armchair beside her bed. I wanted to hold her hand and feel her again but I was scared that if I did, she would dissipate into thin air. She was definitely my mother but I didn't know who she was. Her presence in the room felt so foreign and unfamiliar. She was absent for most of my life back when I was little. She never braided my hair for me. She never gave me a pep talk on my first day of school. She never tucked me in before bed. As far as I know, I never even had a mother to begin with.

She looked healthy. There were a few distinguished scars on her skin from when Father hit her, her nails were nicely done and her lips with stained with leftover makeup. What the hell was she doing in Chicago? What the hell is she doing alive?