Part 12

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[Song is a cover by Corey Gray, of course, the man who plays Holland. Check him out :)]

(Still Holland's Perspective)

The heels of my worn, black Converse squeaked against the stained hospital linoelum as I paced back and forth, grabbing the back of my neck. Cursing under my breath, I kept my eyes focused on the blue and white floor colors. My thoughts were clouded by a heavy daze, my body almost numb even though my heart was smashing into its chest wall. My eyes closed for half of a second before a vibrating sensation in my back pocket caused them to shoot open.

"Dammit," I groaned, taking my lit-up phone from my pocket and tapping the green answer button. "What?" I snapped.

"Don't take that tone with me, Ambrock," My boss retorted, bitterness filling his voice. I felt a smirk stretch across my face in response to the frown in his. "Are you coming into work or not?" He continued. "You were supposed to clock in twenty minutes ago!"

"I've got a family issue." A sour taste secreted in my mouth.

"What do you mean-"

His exasperated complaints were silenced when I cut the call and shoved the phone back in my pocket. He would probably raise hell about it later on, but I couldn't give a rat's ass at that point. Breathing a deep sigh, I let myself fall back against the wall and shut my eyes. But even when my eyes were closed, the blackness was replaced with images of India in the ambulance. I could feel her hand in mine as I squeezed, even though she was too unconscious to squeeze back. I saw the flashing lights, heard a low siren and almost felt the ambulance bumping over potholes.

"I got you some Cheetos from the machine."

My eyes opened and my head turned to see my mom staring up at me with puffy, red eyes filled with desperation. A small bag was sitting in the outstretched palm of her trembling hand. A slight smile came across me as I took the bag.

"Flaming Hot," I chuckled to myself before popping the bag open in my fist. Leaning back against the wall again, I tilted the bag toward my mother and let her take a sample. We munched without speaking, letting the crunching echo through the area. My gaze focused on the sign on the closed door across from me, one with India's name on it. After a few seconds, I continued chewing the hot snack as I caught sight of a gurney being rolled from a nearby room. The gurney was covered with a black body bag, one sized for an adult. My stomach turned at the image and I tossed the remainder of the Cheetos in an adjacent trash bin.

"She woke up once," My mother mused as she wiped the red powder from her lips. "It was a few minutes ago, but she fell asleep again soon after."

"How much time does she have left?" Nausea brewed in my stomach when I spoke.

"Very little. She-" Mom's voice cracked as she put a trembling hand to her mouth. Her eyes became wet as I put an arm around her, and a couple tears raced down her ashen cheek. "They want t-to bring a c-chaplin up here."

I brought my arm back to my side as my fists clenched. Anger boiled in my veins when she said that, and my cheeks were hot. "What good is that going to do?" I shouted, grabbing the back of my neck and clenching my teeth. "He's just gonna give us the same damn speech he gave us two and a half years ago! Something about 'God's choice'!"

"Holland-"

"It's bullshit!" The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them, and my head pounded as I tried to calm down, sliding down on the floor and resting my hands on my knees. "A fucking chaplin's not going to do anything," I mumbled, holding my throbbing head in my hands and rubbing the temples.

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