Haunted by an Angel

Chapter Eleven

I awoke in a puddle of sweat. Images of the nightmare replayed over in my mind.

"Bad dream?" I turn to see Detective Augustine looking casually towards me.

"More like an out of body experience." I replied dryly. "Don't you ever sleep?" 

"No." 

I smiled.  "Yeah, okay.  My inhuman bodyguard."  

"Correction.   I'm not a bodyguard, more like superhero."  Maybe I am going crazy.  Since when did Mr. Serious have a sense of humor?

"You're handsome when you smile." Oh no, did I seriously say that out loud?

"So, I'm ugly when I don't?"  He was playing with my embarrassment, his smile widening as he spoke.

"No!" He raised his eyebrows questionably.  "I mean, uh, oh you know what I mean!" I cried exasperated.

With a slight chuckle, he turned his head looking towards the wall in front of us.   The nurses had brought in a cot for me to sleep on and placed it next to my Father.  The chair that Detective Augustine sat in just happened to be at the foot of it, about three feet away.

"Someone's in a good mood today." It made me think back to the conversation between Pearson and I earlier. I guess now is as good a time as ever. "Why don't you like hospitals?"

His face fell. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well, you don't seem very comfortable.  It's like you would rather be anywhere else but here." I try to be as nonchalant as possible.

"You've been talking to Pearson haven't you?" He smirks.

"Umm.. no?"

"No? That's more a question than an answer don't you think?" At least he isn't flipping out on me.

I shrug and look at him, silently pleading for permission to continue with my questioning.  After what seemes like forever, he finally meets my eyes again.

"Fine" he sighs.  "I spent a lot of time in hospitals when I was younger. My little sister was diagnosed with leukemia when she was three.  It was pretty stubborn, and kept coming back."  His eyes glazed over as he spoke.  When he averted his gaze from me once more, I felt as if this was all I would get out of him.  Not that I would complain, seeing as I didn't know anything prior to this moment.

"What happened?" It was more of a whisper than anything.

He sighes again before answering.  "She died, one week before her fifth birthday.  I was only nine, and I knew what death was, but from then on, I kind of associated hospitals with sickness and death.  I still to this day cannot bring myself to step foot in a Pediatric wourd."

"I'm so sorry.  I can't imagine what that must have been like."  My heart ached for this man.  Even if I barely knew him, I could understand the pain loss brings.

"It's alright." He smiles.  "Its been nearly fifteen years.  It gets easier to deal with as time goes by."

"I hope so." I didn't want to feel this tightness in my chest for the rest of my life. I want to be able to stand in a shower and not fall to the floor, sobbing for the loss of my mother.  I sincerely hope my father is strong enough to make it through all of this as well.  I don't think I could handle losing both of them.

"It does.  It may not seem like it now, but one day, the tears will stop.   Maybe only for a little while at first, but they will stop." 

"Thank you.  I really needed to hear that." He crackes another sympathetic smile, and tells me to get some sleep.

For the first time in a very long time, I have a night without dreams of the ballroom.