Secret: A Selection Story

Secret: Marlee

I rushed to the hospital wing, hearing the grave news. America had been shot in the chest. Her vitals were failing. 

She lay still in her bed as I tenderly walked through the open door, casually waking up Maxon, who had fallen asleep during the hours of watching America. I sat across from him at the eating table. A maid had brought out pastries. 

America breathed, in and out, her chest rising and falling. 

Maxon  stared at her, a worried expression on his face. 

"Maxon?" I whispered, wanting to be quiet. 

"Yes, Marlee?" he wasn't even looking at me, and his tone was emotionless. He faced me, not bothering to look me in the eyes. 

"Maxon, I-" I took a deep breath, confessing my love for Carter. He stopped me. 

"Say no more, Marlee." he said, all business-like. 

I stopped myself in the middle of the track, the race to get to Carter. 

"I can't take this right now." he ran his hand through his hair. His face and hair a mess. I smiled sympathetically. 

"Of course." I grabbed a stool, screeching. A maid offered to switch it, but I refused. 

America stirred. Her vitals went down. 

BEEP. BEEP. 

The sounds ricocheted throughout the walls of my ears. I put my hands on her shoulders, her limp body barely moving. 

Maxon was giving her CPR. 

"America!" he pleaded, his eyes full of tears. 

America didn't move, her eyes closed. We turned away, not bothering to see the limp body that made us heave. Maxon cried on her stomach.  I could hear him whisper, 

"I won't call you my dear, if you come back to me." he promised, tears falling on the blanket that was laid on her legs. 

"Daddy?" she whispered aloud, her vitals coming backs to life. 

Her heart raced. It started to slow. She didn't wake up. Doctor Ashler was there. 

"Her heart has been racing." he commented. 

Maxon nodded. His eyelids were droopy. 

Doctor Ashler left, placing a clipboard with America's progress on it next to Maxon. He crossed his legs, placed his hands in his lap, and fell asleep. I giggled, picking up his crown and placing it lopsided on his head, barely covering his eyes. I knew America, whenever she may wake up, would need something to smile at. 

I exited the hospital wing. 

.               .                .

Celeste's room was near America's old one. She was there, looking out the window. She was obviously contemplating something. 

"Celeste?" I half-heartedly knocked on the door. 

"Marlee!" she immediately perked up, wiping away some stray tears. 

I noticed some calligraphy on her bedside table. 

Tomas and Celeste Davila. 

I smiled. 

Celeste patted the seat next to her. 

"I need to tell you something."