CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

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doctor sinclair

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doctor sinclair

doctor sinclair

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. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

Somehow, Alina made it to El's cabin without blacking out. The car ride had been terrible, with every turn sending a new wave of nausea into the pit of her stomach, but she'd made it. Even though everything was hurting—her head, her ribs, her knee, and her nose, despite El using her powers to snap it back into place. Even though she kept thinking about the sight of the corpse of Tom Holloway's corpse turning to jelly. That and the fact that, back at the hospital, she'd been so utterly delirious and in such a terrible amount of pain she'd wished for death. It was only her father—an apparition her brain had conjured up to keep her from going out entirely—that had snapped her back to her senses. Despite death being a largely unselfish thing, Alina thought that it would be selfish to die now. To leave her friends to fight the Mind Flayer on their own. And even though she wasn't much help, even with her powers—the hospital had proved it—she just couldn't let them do that.

Staggering into the cabin, Alina took heavy breaths through her newly repaired nose, which was still sore and bruising slightly. She hadn't seen herself yet, but judging by the way everyone was looking at her and the skin-crawling feeling of dried blood caked onto her—a combination of hers, Jonathan's, and Tom's—she made Gabe's injury seem like nothing but a scratch. Unlike him, she didn't look like she'd been run over by a truck, but rather three airplanes, a rocket ship, and an ambulance.

She assumed.

Nancy immediately began to get supplies for Jonathan, tending to his wounds, because she was soon going to head to a couple houses to pick up some supplies. Will and Max were going with her, while the others were staying behind at the cabin, too afraid to leave it again. Alina watched, her vision slightly clouded, as Nancy brought a washcloth to her brother's bloody forehead, sponging away the reminder of tonight's horror, before she was led into the bathroom by the one and only Lucas Sinclair, who had, of course, volunteered to be the one to take care of her injuries.

With one arm around her, his other one filled with some clean clothes El had offered up, Lucas helped Alina sit on the lid of the toilet, where she leaned her head on the counter. He began rummaging for supplies in the medicine cabinet, his breath heavy and his limbs shaking, and he kept taking out supplies only to put them back.

PAROXYSM- Lucas Sinclair ³Where stories live. Discover now